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diff --git a/49460-8.txt b/49460-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 059925a..0000000 --- a/49460-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13703 +0,0 @@ - DIVIDING WATERS - - - - -This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 -http://www.gutenberg.org/license. If you are not located in the United -States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are -located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Dividing Waters -Author: I. A. R. Wylie -Release Date: July 16, 2015 [EBook #49460] -Language: English -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIVIDING WATERS *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - - - *DIVIDING WATERS* - - - BY - - *I. A. R. WYLIE* - - AUTHOR OF - "THE RAJAH'S PEOPLE," "MY GERMAN YEAR" - - - - SECOND EDITION - - - - MILLS & BOON, LIMITED - 49 RUPERT STREET - LONDON, W. - - - - - _Published_ 1911 - - _Copyright_ 1911 _in the United States of America by I. A. R. Wylie_ - - - - - *CONTENTS* - - BOOK I - -CHAP. - - I. The Mistakes of Providence - II. "Wanderlust" - III. An Experiment - IV. Outward Bound - V. Among the Heathen - VI. A Letter Home - VII. A Duet - VIII. The Awakening - IX. Renunciation - X. Youth and the Barrier - XI. Wolff makes his Debut in Delford - XII. Nora Forsakes Her Country - - - BOOK II - - I. The New Home - II. --And the New Life - III. A Meeting - IV. A Visitor Arrives in Karlsburg - V. The Cub as Lion - VI. In Which the Rev. John Receives a Shock - VII. Wolff Sells a Horse and Nora Loses a Friend - VIII. Rising Shadows - IX. Arnold Receives His Explanation - X. Nemesis - XI. The Fetish - XII. War-Clouds - XIII. Ultimatum - XIV. The Code of Honour - XV. The Sea Between - - - BOOK III - - THE BRIDGE - - I. Home - II. Exiled - III. Revelation - IV. The Bridge Across - - - - - *DIVIDING WATERS* - - - - *BOOK I* - - - *CHAPTER I* - - *THE MISTAKES OF PROVIDENCE* - - -The family Ingestre sat in conclave. That they sat together at all at -any time other than a meal-time was in itself sufficient proof that the -subject of their debate was unusually serious: their faces and attitudes -added conclusive evidence. - -The Reverend John Ingestre occupied his chair of state at the head of -the long table. He was a middle-sized man, with narrow, sloping -shoulders, which were at that particular moment drawn up into an -uncomfortable hunch. When he spoke he pulled at his thin beard and -glanced at his wife surreptitiously over his spectacles, as though -seeking her advice or support--actions which gave his whole person an -air of harassed nervousness. - -Mrs. Ingestre did not return her husband's signals. She lay quietly on -the sofa by the window, her hand half shading her face, and seemed -absorbed in her own thoughts. Only once during the Rev. John's long and -detailed statement did she give any sign of having heard. Then she -shifted her position so that her grave scrutiny rested on the two -younger members of the family. Perhaps she hoped to learn from their -expressions what they were innerly experiencing, and therein no doubt -she must have been successful, for their positions alone were expressive -of much. - -The boy--or young man, for he was at that uncertain age when boyhood and -manhood meet--had his hands plunged in his pockets; his long legs were -stretched out in front of him, his chin rested on his chest. Supreme -and energiless despondency seemed to be imprinted in the very creases of -his Norfolk coat. - -The girl had her place at the table. Though she sat perfectly still, -never turning her eyes from her father's face, there was something in -her rigid attitude which suggested irritation and impatience. Her hands -lay in her lap; only a close observer would have seen that they were not -folded, but clenched, so that the knuckles stood out white. - -"So you see, my dear children," the Rev. John said at last, coming to -his peroration, "I felt it my duty to lay the case before you exactly as -it stands. For a long time I hoped that it would not be necessary for me -to do so--that a merciful Providence would spare me the pain of -inflicting upon you so sharp a wound. Well, it has been ruled -otherwise, and I only pray that you share with me my one -consolation--the knowledge that it is the will of a Higher Power, and -therefore all for the best." - -He stopped and waited. In spite of the catastrophe which he had just -announced, there was a trace of meek satisfaction in his manner, of -which he seemed gradually to become conscious, for he turned to his wife -with a note of apology in his thin voice: - -"My dear, I have explained the matter correctly, I hope?" - -"Quite correctly, I should think." - -Mrs. Ingestre's hand sank from her face. It was a finely shaped hand, -and whiter, if possible, than the dress she wore. Everything about her -was beautiful and fragile--painfully fragile. The very atmosphere -around her seemed laden with the perfume of a refined and nobly borne -suffering. - -"It seems to me there is no possible mistake," said the young man, -getting up roughly. "We are ruined--that is the long and the short of -the matter." - -For a moment no one made any attempt to deny his angry statement. Then -the Rev. John shook his head. - -"You speak too strongly, my dear Miles," he corrected. "We are not what -one would call ruined. I have still my stipend. There is no idea -of--eh--starving, or anything of that sort; but the superfluous luxuries -must be done away with, and--eh--one or two sacrifices must be brought." - -He coughed, and looked at his daughter. Mrs. Ingestre looked at her -also, and the pale, pain-worn face became illumined with tenderness and -pity. - -"Sacrifices," the Rev. John repeated regretfully. "Such, I fear, must be -the payment for our misfortunes." - -Nora Ingestre relaxed from her stiff attitude of self-restraint. The -expression of her face said clearly enough: "The sermon is at an end, -and the plate being handed round. How much am I expected to put in?" - -"It was of your career I was thinking, my dear Miles," the Rev. John -answered. "I am quite aware that your whole future depends on your -remaining in the Army, therefore we have decided that--that sacrifices -must be brought for you." - -He hesitated again, and threw another glance at his wife's pale face. - -"Nora, I am sure you see the necessity of what I say?" - -His daughter started, as though he had awakened her from a reverie. - -"Yes, I do," she said, with an abrupt energy. "We must all help each -other as much as we can. I shall just work like a nigger." - -"Eh--yes," said her father doubtfully. "I am sure you will. Of course, -we shall have to dismiss some of the servants, and your mother will -need--eh--more assistance than hitherto--and I know, dear Nora----" He -coughed, and left the sentence unfinished. - -Whether it was his manner or her mother's face which aroused her to -closer attention, Nora Ingestre herself could not have said. She became -suddenly aware that all three were looking at her, and that she was -expected to say something. - -"I don't quite understand," she said. "It is only natural that I should -help all I can, only----" - -It was her turn to stop short. She too had risen to her feet, and quite -unconsciously she drew herself upright like a person preparing for -attack from some as yet unknown quarter. Like her father, she was not -above the middle height, but she had her mother's graceful, -well-proportioned build, which made her seem taller than she really was, -and added to that a peculiar resolute dignity that was all her own. It -was, perhaps, to this latter attribute that she owed the unacknowledged -respect in which she was held both by her father and brother. For it is -a set rule that we must admire most what is in direct contrast to -ourselves; and it had never been in the Rev. John's power either to -carry himself erect, or to give himself anything but the appearance of a -meek and rather nervous man. It was owing to this inherent respect that -he hesitated at the present moment. Perhaps he realised at the bottom -of his heart that it was not an altogether fair proceeding to load his -mistaken monetary speculations on the shoulders of a disinterested -Providence, and that his family might have other, if secret, views as to -the real responsibility. At any rate, he was not sufficiently convinced -of his own absolute innocence to meet his daughter's grave, questioning -eyes with either firmness or equanimity. - -"My dear," he said, "we want you at home." And therewith he considered -he had put the case both concisely and gently. But Nora continued to -look at him, and he grew irritated because she did not seem able to -understand. - -"Surely you can see that--that there are certain things for which we -have neither the time nor the money?" he said, drumming on the table -with his thin fingers. - -A deep wave of colour mounted Nora Ingestre's cheeks. She did not -speak, however, until it had died away again, leaving her unusually -pale. - -"You mean--I must give up--everything?" she asked in a low voice. - -"If by 'everything' you mean your musical studies--yes," her father -returned impatiently. The next minute he relented, and, leaning -forward, took her passive hand in his. "But surely it is not -'everything,'" he said. "Surely your home and your people are more to -you than even this favourite pursuit? I know it is hard for you--it is -indeed hard for us all; but if we kept our promise and sent you to -London other things would have to pay for it--the dear old house, the -garden, Miles's career. You see how it is? You know there is nothing -for your real good that I would withhold from you if I could help it, -dear child." - -He waited, expecting her to throw herself into his arms in generous -self-reproach at her own hesitation; but she said nothing, and there was -a long, uncomfortable silence. - -"And then time will not hang heavy on your hands," he went on, with -forced cheerfulness. "Your mother will need you and I shall need -you--good little amanuensis that you are! Is it not something to you -that we all need you so much?" - -"Yes," she said. - -The monosyllable encouraged him, though it would have encouraged no one -else. - -"And, of course, in between whiles you will be able to keep up your -music," he added, patting her hand. - -This time there was not even a monosyllable to reassure him. Nora -Ingestre stood motionless at her father's side, her eyes fixed straight -ahead, her fine, resolute features set, and almost expressionless. - -Miles swung impatiently on his heel. - -"I can't think what you are making all this fuss about," he said. "You -ought to be jolly glad that we can keep on the old place, and that you -have such a decent home. I know lots of girls who would give their eyes -to be in your shoes." - -"Have I been making a fuss?" - -She spoke perfectly quietly, without changing her position, but her -question seemed to cause Miles fresh annoyance. - -"I call it a fuss to stand there and say nothing," he said, with sound -masculine logic. "And anyhow--what does it matter whether you can -tinkle a few tunes on the old tin-kettle or not?" - -"That is something you do not understand," she blazed out. It was as -though he had unwittingly set fire to some hidden powder-mine in her -character. She was breathing quickly and brokenly, and every line in her -face betrayed a painfully repressed feeling which threatened to break -out into passionate expression. - -Mrs. Ingestre rose from her couch. When she stood upright she seemed to -dominate them all, to command silence and respect, by the very dignity -of her bearing. - -"I think this has all lasted long enough," she said. "What is done -cannot be undone. We must face matters as best we can. As your father -says, it is the will of Providence, and as such we must accept it. -Only"--she turned to Miles, and from the faintest possible inflection of -irony her tone deepened to reproof--"there are some things you do not -understand, dear boy, and which you had better leave to wiser heads. -Perhaps I understand better. At any rate, I should like to speak to -Nora alone." - -Thus she virtually dismissed the masculine members of the family. Miles -shrugged his shoulders, and went out into the garden whistling. The -Rev. John rose, and gathered up the business papers which he had brought -in with him. - -"I am sure that your mother will show it is all for the best," he said -weakly. - -At the door he turned and looked back over his spectacles. - -"Remember always what we have both tried to impress upon you--it is the -will of Providence," he said. "We must not kick against the pricks." - -He then went out, leaving the two women alone. - - - - - *CHAPTER II* - - *"WANDERLUST"* - - -For some minutes mother and daughter did not speak. Nora had turned her -back, and was gazing out on to the pleasant country garden with eyes -that saw neither the flowers nor the evening shadows which lengthened -out over the lawn. She was still too profoundly occupied in the effort -to appear indifferent, to cover over that one slip of feeling, to notice -what was going on about her. She hated herself for having shown what -she felt, she hated herself for feeling as she did; but no amount of -hatred or self-condemnation would retrieve the one or change the other, -and when she at last turned, aroused by the prolonged silence, the -signals of anger and resentment still burned in her cheeks and eyes. - -"Oh, I am a wretch," she cried impetuously. "Dearest, don't look so -grave and distressed. It isn't your fault that you have such a -disagreeable daughter. There, I ought to be a help and comfort, and -instead----" - -"An old woman does not need so much help and comfort as a young one," -Mrs. Ingestre interrupted gently. "Just at present I am not suffering -one-tenth of what you are suffering. And, dear Nora, don't treat me -like some frail old wreck that must be shielded at all costs from the -rough winds. Don't stand there and swallow up everything you are -feeling because you are afraid of hurting me. It will only rankle all -the worse. I would rather have your full confidence, however painful it -may be. Come here and sit down beside me. Tell me everything you are -thinking and feeling, honest Injun!" - -The "honest Injun" brought a smile to Nora's eyes. Like everything else -that she said or did, Mrs. Ingestre stamped the schoolboy phrase with an -exotic, indefinable charm that was all her own. Yet beneath the -half-gay appeal there lay a note of command, and Nora drew nearer -awkwardly and hesitatingly, bereft for the moment of her youthful -assurance and thrust back to the school days which at the age of -nineteen are not so far away. She took the white outstretched hand and -stood with bent head, frowning at the carpet. Suddenly she knelt down -and buried her face in her mother's lap. - -"I feel like a trapped rabbit," she murmured indistinctly. - -A very faint smile touched Mrs. Ingestre's lips. - -"A trapped rabbit, Nora? And who has trapped you, pray?" - -"You have, and you know it. You always do!" - -"Really, dear, it would have to be a very old and shortsighted rabbit to -allow me to trap it, and you are neither. You must explain." - -Nora lifted her face. She was laughing, but she was also very near -crying. - -"I mean--that is how you make me feel," she said. "I can defy other -people when they want to do any soul-exploring on my territory. I just -shut my mouth and my heart, and leave them out in the cold. But you are -different. You mesmerise me till I not only have to tell you what I am -feeling, but I positively _want_ to--even though it is the most -disgraceful, most disreputable feeling possible." - -"And just now----?" - -"It was a thought." - -"What sort of a thought?" - -"A dreadful one." - -"Couldn't you tell me?" - -"Of course I can--I must--but----" - -"Well?" - -"Do you want to know exactly?" - -"Word for word." - -"I was thinking what a duffer father is--was, I mean." - -A complete silence. Mrs. Ingestre stroked her daughter's hand and -stared sightlessly into the deepening shadows. The smile had died from -her lips. - -"Go on," she said at last. - -"I don't think there is anything else. I always think that when father -talks about Providence and--and that sort of thing. I feel sometimes -that if Providence took human shape and was in the room at the time I -should wink--I am not sure I don't wink inside me, anyhow." - -She waited, and then, as Mrs. Ingestre said nothing, she went on -disconsolately: - -"I know I am awful, darling. I wonder if other people have shocking -ideas too, or whether I am the wicked exception?" - -"I don't think so," Mrs. Ingestre said. "One can't help one's thoughts, -you know." - -"No, one can't; can one? The more one sits on them, the more uproarious -they get. Are you cross?" - -"No." - -"Do you--ever have thoughts like that?" - -"Nora, I am not feeling in the least like a trapped rabbit, if that's -what you mean." - -Nora laughed outright. Her youth and buoyant spirits won the upper hand -for the moment, but for no longer. The actual subject of their -conversation interposed itself between her humour and herself. - -"Why did father try and make money in Mexico?" she demanded suddenly and -sharply. "We were rich enough before, and now we are so poor that we -have to give up everything that makes life worth living, in order to -live." - -"My dear child, do you really think that?" - -"No, I don't _think_ that. If I thought, I daresay I should see that, -as the world goes, I am a very lucky girl. But I _feel_--awful! And -the feelings always count most with me." - -Mrs. Ingestre nodded to herself. - -"They count most with all normal people," she said; "and those who -govern their lives by their heads are not, as a rule, either the -happiest or the cleverest. Still, Nora, is it such a sacrifice?" - -"Yes." - -"Is the music so dear to you that it is the only thing which makes life -worth living?" - -Nora did not answer, and with a firm, gentle hand Mrs. Ingestre tilted -her daughter's head backwards, so that she could look straight into the -overcast grey eyes. A very faint smile played about the corners of her -own mouth. - -"Nora, you know, a few months ago, when we promised to send you up to -London to begin your studies, we were comparatively rich people. Rich -people can afford luxuries, and our pet luxury was to imagine that our -little girl was a genius who was going to show the world great things. -We meant to give you every chance--we would have seen that our ship -lacked nothing to make its first passage in public waters a success. -Well, we are poor now, and the first luxury which we must part with is -that fond hope. You and I must face the fact--you are a sweet musician, -not a genius." - -"Mother, you knew that all the time--as well as I did." - -A pale rose sprang to Mrs. Ingestre's cheeks. Quite unconsciously she -avoided her daughter's challenging eyes. - -"Mother, why did you pretend to think otherwise?" Nora went on. "Did -you believe me so silly as to imagine myself anything more than an -amateur? Why, of course I knew. I had only to compare myself with -others." - -"And yet you let us think and talk about you as a genius!" Mrs. Ingestre -interposed. - -Nora nodded defiantly. - -"I was a humbug," she declared. "I wanted to go to London. It seemed -the only way." - -"Wasn't that a rather disreputable way?" - -"Not more disreputable than yours. I remember, when father complained -about the useless expense you told him it was a sin against Providence -not to encourage Genius. It was then I first made the discovery that -when you are most serious you are really laughing--at father and me and -every one." - -"Nora! Nora!" The tone of mild reproof died away Mother and daughter -looked each other in the eyes and laughed. When she had done laughing, -Mrs. Ingestre bent down and kissed the girl lightly on the forehead. - -"You pry too deep to be an altogether very respectful person," she said; -"but since you have pryed, I must make the best of it and confess. I -knew your father would not understand my ideas, so I too humbugged a -little--just a very little. I wanted you to go to London, and -afterwards into the world. It was the only way." - -"And now this is the end of it all!" - -Nora Ingestre rose and stood by her mother's side. Her voice rang with -all the protest and despair of which youth is so capable--very real -protest and very real despair, whole-hearted and intense, as is the way -with youth. - -"It wasn't the music," she went on. "I loved it, of course, but I -wanted to see the world and people more than anything else. I wanted -the world so badly, mother. I felt like a caged animal that sees the -forests and the plains through its prison bars. I wanted to get out and -be free. Oh, you can't understand--you can't!" - -Mrs. Ingestre stirred suddenly, as though a wound had been touched with -rough fingers. - -"I do understand," she said. But Nora was too young, above all, too -absorbed in her own griefs, to hear all that was hidden in her mother's -words. - -"At any rate, no one else would understand," she went on. "Father -wouldn't, Miles wouldn't, and the whole village wouldn't. They would -all say I was a New Woman, or unwomanly, or something--why, I don't -know. I don't care whether I have a vote or not. I can cook and I can -sew; I love children. All that sort of thing is womanly, isn't it? -Isn't it womanly to want to live, and to know what life means? Nobody -thinks it strange that Miles, though he has no talent for anything -except loafing, should travel, should live away from home and get to -know other people. It is all for his development! But I am not to -develop, it seems. Perhaps development isn't womanly. Perhaps the only -right thing for me to do is to look after the flowers and worry the cook -and bore myself through my days with tea-parties and tennis-parties and -occasional match-making dances, until somebody asks me to be his wife, -and I marry him to save myself from turning into a vegetable!" - -She stopped, breathless with her fierce torrent of sarcasm and -bitterness. Her cheeks were flushed, her hands clenched; there were -tears in her bright eyes. Mrs. Ingestre rose and followed her daughter -to the window, whither she had wandered in her restless energy. - -"How long have you been thinking all this, Nora?" she asked. - -"Ever since I left school and Miles went to Sandhurst. Until then it all -seemed fair enough. He had been to school and I had been to school. -But after that, just when I was beginning to learn because I loved it, -just when I was beginning to see things and understand them--then I was -brought home--here--and there was an end to it." - -Mrs. Ingestre put her arm about her daughter's shoulders. - -"And then you remembered that you were musical?" she said. - -"And you discovered that I was a genius!" came the retort. - -Mrs. Ingestre laughed quietly. - -"I see that we must not throw stones at each other, or our glass houses -will suffer," she said. "And, after all, it does not matter why either -of us wanted it, or how we managed. You were to go to London and see a -little of the world----" - -"Don't talk about it, mother!" - -"Only a little, perhaps, but more than your whole future promises you -now, poor child. Now you will have to stop here and vegetate." - -Nora turned and clasped her mother in a tumultuous embrace. - -"What a brute I must seem!" she exclaimed. "And yet I _do_ love you, -dearest. I believe I love you more than most daughters do their -mothers, and I don't believe that I am really more selfish--only, I -can't hide what I feel, and I feel such a lot. Are you hurt?" - -Mrs. Ingestre shook her head. - -"It is an old woman's privilege to pretend that she has a reason to feel -bitter," she said, "but I am not in the least bitter, because, you see, -I understand. I understood even before you said anything, and so I made -up my mind that you should be given an alternative----" - -"An alternative, mother?" - -"----To staying here; and Captain Arnold." - -A sudden silence fell on both. Mrs. Ingestre, under cover of the -twilight, observed her daughter sharply. She saw that though Nora's face -had grown grave it showed no sign of any profound feeling, and she took -the quiet, undisturbed colour as an answer to a question which even she -had never ventured to ask. - -"And so," she went on after a moment, "I wrote to my old friend, -Fräulein Müller, about you, and she answered two or three days ago, and -said she knew of an excellent position as companion to a lady in -Karlsburg. She thought it would suit you admirably. You would be -treated as one of the family, and have plenty of time to go on with your -own studies. Would you like it?" - -The proposal came so suddenly, and yet in such a matter-of-fact tone, -that Nora caught her breath and looked up at her mother in blank -surprise. - -"You mean," she began slowly, "that I should go and live in a German -family?" - -"Yes." - -"With a lot of fat, greasy, gobbling Germans?" - -"Do you know any Germans?" - -"No--at least there was our German music-master at school, and _he_ was -fat and greasy, and I am sure he must have gobbled. He must have done. -They all do." - -"You used to say he played like an angel," Mrs. Ingestre interposed. - -"So he did. But I hated him all the same. I hate all Germans." - -Her tone rang with a sort of school-girl obstinacy. Her attitude, with -lifted chin and straight shoulders, was eloquent with national arrogance -and scorn. - -Mrs. Ingestre turned away. - -"I shall write to Fräulein Müller and tell her to make all -arrangements," she said. "I think, if everything proves suitable, that -you had better go to Karlsburg." - -"Mother! You haven't even given me the choice!" - -"I do not think it wise to do so," Mrs. Ingestre answered gravely. "You -are right, Nora; you must see the world. You must go away from here, -not just for the sake of the music, the change, and excitement, but in -order that your heart may grow wider, in order to learn to love the good -that lies outside your own little sphere. There are great things, great -people outside Delford, Nora--yes, and outside England. You must learn -to know them." - -The girl's face flushed crimson. - -"At the bottom we all despise foreigners and foreign ways," she said in -self-defence. "Father does, Miles does, the Squire does. And they have -all travelled; they have seen for themselves." - -"They have travelled with their eyes open and their hearts closed," Mrs. -Ingestre answered. - -"How do you know, mother? You have never been out of England." - -Mrs. Ingestre shook her head. A rather melancholy smile passed over her -wan features. - -"No," she said; "I have never been out of England, but I have been -often, very often, ill, and during the long hours I have travelled great -distances, and I have begun to think that God cannot surely have -reserved all the virtues for us English. I fancy even the poor -benighted Germans must have their share of heaven." - -Nora laughed outright. - -"I expect they have, now I come to think of it," she admitted gaily. -"Mother, you are a much better Christian than father, though you won't -call every one 'dearly beloved,' and you are yards better than I am. I -can't help it--I despise all foreigners, especially----" - -She stopped abruptly, and Mrs. Ingestre smiled. - -"Still, you will try Karlsburg. It will be an experience for you, and -you will hear good music. The family is a very old one, and perhaps the -members, being of noble birth, may gobble less than the others." - -"All Germans are of noble birth," Nora observed scornfully. - -"So much the better for them," Mrs. Ingestre returned. "Are you willing -to try? You know the alternative." - -"May I think it over, mother?" - -"Yes, you may think over it, if you like. It is, after all, only a -question of your willingness." - -"That means you have made up your mind?" - -"Yes." - -Mrs. Ingestre saw the strong young face set into lines of defiance. She -went back to the sofa and lay down with a sigh. - -"Little Nora," she said, almost under her breath, "you know it is not my -custom to preach. You won't think, therefore, that I am just 'talking' -when I tell you: years ago I would have given anything--anything--to -have had this chance." - -For the first time in their long interview the girl stopped listening to -the self-pitying confusion of her thoughts. The elder woman's voice had -penetrated her youthful egoism, and she turned with that curious tugging -at the heart which we experience when we have unexpectedly heard a -smothered cry of pain break from lips usually composed in lines of peace -and apparent content. - -"Mother!" Nora exclaimed. The room was now in almost complete shadow. -She came closer and bent over the quiet face. The atmosphere was heavy -with the scent of roses, and it flashed through Nora's mind as she stood -there that her mother was like a rose--pale and faded, but still -beautiful, still breathing a wonderful perfume of purity and sweetness. - -"Mother!" she repeated, strangely awe-struck. - -Mrs. Ingestre opened her eyes and smiled. - -"I am very tired," she said. "I think I could sleep a little. Go and -think it over. I want you to be willing." - -Nora bent and kissed her. - -"If you wish it, I am willing," she said with impulsive, whole-hearted -surrender. She crept out on tiptoe, and for a few minutes all was quiet -in the great shadowy room. Then the door opened again, and the Rev. -John entered and peered round short-sightedly. He saw that his wife's -eyes were closed, and, since it is not kind to waken a weary invalid, he -merely knocked some books off the table and coughed. Truth to tell, it -annoyed him that his wife should have chosen that identical moment to -rest. He wanted to talk to her, but since in spite of all his indirect -efforts she remained quiet, he went out again, a disconsolate victim of -his own gentle consideration. - -But Mrs. Ingestre had not been asleep. Her eyes were shut, but the eyes -of her mental vision were open. They were watching sunlit panoramas of -long rivers with mountain banks and frowning ruins, glorious, -heaven-inspiring cathedral spires and great cities. The ears of her -imagination had not heard the Rev. John's clumsy movements. They were -listening to the song of the ocean, the confusion of a strange tongue, -the rich _crescendo_ of a wonderful music. - -Mrs. Ingestre had left the room and the vicarage and the village far -behind, and was travelling swiftly through a world which she had never -seen and--since for her life was near its close--would never see. And -as she travelled, the same thought repeated itself to her with stern -persistency: - -"Whatever it costs you, she must go. You must not, dare not keep her." - - - - - *CHAPTER III* - - *AN EXPERIMENT* - - -Breakfast with the Ingestres was a movable and unsociable feast. The -various members of the family came down when it suited them, the only -punishment being the inevitable one of cold eggs and bitter tea, and -conversation was restricted to the barest necessities. The Rev. John -was usually engrossed in parochial letters, Mrs. Ingestre was never -present at all, and Miles only at such a time when it pleased him. Thus -Nora, choosing on the morning following the momentous interview to be an -early riser, found little difficulty in making her escape. The Rev. -John was more absorbed than usual in his post, since it contained not -only letters dealing with his cure of souls, but also some disagreeable -business facts which he swallowed with his tea in melancholy gulps. - -Nora kissed him lightly on the high forehead as she ran toward the open -French window. Rather to her surprise, the customary caress seemed to -arouse her father from his reflections. He looked up and blinked, like -a man who is trying to remember some important matter. - -"My dear," he said, before Nora had reached the lawn, "is it really true -that you want to go abroad? Your mother was talking to me about it last -night." - -"We were thinking about it," Nora admitted, fidgeting nervously with the -blind-cord. "Mother said she thought it would be good for me." - -"But, my dear child, what shall we do without you?" her father -complained. - -Nora made an almost imperceptible movement of impatience. She knew of -what her father was thinking, and it did not move her to any great -degree of sympathy. - -"You will manage all right," she said. "Mr. Clerk will help you with -your letters." And then, to cut the conversation short, she went out -into the garden and along the gravel pathway towards the road. - -The sun shone gloriously. All the charm of an English summer morning -lay in the air, and Nora drew in great breaths with a joyous, -unconscious triumph in her own fresh youth and health. The garden was -the one place in the village which she really loved. The ugly, modern -red-brick church, the straggling "square," with its peppermint -bull's-eye monument to some past "glorious victory," in which the -inhabitants of Delford were dimly supposed to have had their honourable -share, the stuffy cottages, interspersed here and there by an -ivy-overgrown residence of some big-wig of the neighbourhood--these -features were unaccountably connected in Nora's mind with her father's -sermons, the drone of the organ, and the dull piety of Sundays. But the -garden was all her mother's. Nora believed that within its peaceful -limits the forgotten and despised fairies of ancient lore took refuge -from the matter-of-fact bigots who formed Delford's most respectable -community. She had even christened a certain rose-corner the "Fairy -Castle," and it amused her riotous young fancy to imagine an indignant -and horrified Queen Mab scampering across the lawn in disorganised -flight, before the approach of the enemy in the form of Mrs. Clerk, the -curate's wife, or Mrs. Chester of the Manor. The garden was, as it -were, Mrs. Ingestre's self-created Eden in the drab-coloured land of the -Philistines, and even the Rev. John was an intruder and disturber of its -poetic peace. Nora felt all this, and in a dim, unformed way understood -why her mother's roses were different to the roses in other and richer -gardens, why the very atmosphere had its own peculiar perfume, the -silence its own peculiar mystery. She felt that her mother had -translated herself into the flowers, and that the depths of her quiet, -unfathomable heart were revealed in their beauty and sweetness. She -felt that if she could have read their language, the very daisies on the -lawn would have lifted the veil which hung between her and the woman who -seemed to her the most perfect on earth. For, in spite of their close -and tender relationship, Mrs. Ingestre's inner life was for her daughter -a sort of Holy of Holies, into which no human being had ever ventured. - -Thus, once beyond the reach of her father's voice, Nora lingered -willingly between the rose beds, making mental comments on the progress -of the various favourites and for the moment forgetting the matter which -was weighing heavily on her mind. At the gate opening out on to the -road, however, she pulled herself sharply together, with a sudden -gravity on her young face. Either the church steeple visible above the -trees, or the sight of an inquisitive face peering through the blinds of -the house opposite, reminded her that the frontier of Eden was reached, -and that the dull atmosphere of respectability was about to encompass -her. She went quickly through the village. Most of the villagers -touched their caps as she passed, and Mrs. Clerk, early bird of charity -that she was, attempted to waylay her, to discuss the desirability of -procuring parish relief for bedridden old Jones, and, incidentally, of -course, to discover how far the pleasantly lugubrious reports respecting -the Ingestres' disabled fortunes were founded on fact. Nora, however, -avoided her enemy with the assistance of an absent-minded smile and -increased speed, and managed to reach her destination without further -interruption. - -Her destination was a stile which led out on to a narrow pathway over -the fields. She was fond of the spot, partly because if you turned your -back to the east it was quite possible to forget that such things as -Delford or the church or the peppermint bull's-eye monument existed, -partly because westwards the limitless stretch of undulating fields -seemed to suggest freedom and the great world beyond, of which Nora -thought so much. On this particular morning it was not the view which -attracted her, as her rather unusual conduct testified. She arranged -her ruffled brown hair, stooped, and tightened a shoelace, undid the -second shoelace and retied it with methodical precision. Then some one -said "Good morning, Nora," and she sprang upright with her cheeks red -with surprise or exertion, or anything else the beholder chose to -suppose. - -"Good morning, Robert," she said. - -The new-comer took the friendly, outstretched hand. - -"I was coming to pay a disgracefully early morning call," he said. "I -am awfully glad we have met." - -"I knew you would come over the fields this way," she said. "I came -because I wanted to see you." - -He flushed crimson with pleasure. - -"That was decent of you, Nora. You are not always so kind." - -"This is an exceptional occasion," she answered gravely. - -She perched herself on the stile and sat there gazing thoughtfully in -front of her. In that moment she made a sweet and pleasing picture of -English girlhood. The sunlight played through the trees on to her hair, -picking out the shining red-gold threads, and touching with warmer glow -the softly tinted skin. The clean-cut, patrician features, dark-arched -eyebrows, and proud, rather full lips seemed to contrast strangely with -the extreme simplicity of her flowered muslin frock. And indeed she -came of another race of women than that of which Delford and its -inhabitants were accustomed--something finer, more delicate, more keenly -tempered. It was almost impossible to think of her as the Rev. John's -daughter--quite impossible as Miles Ingestre's sister. One could only -understand the small, aristocratic features when one remembered that -Mrs. Ingestre was her mother. Captain Arnold remembered the fact keenly -that moment. - -"I declare you are Mrs. Ingestre's miniature!" he exclaimed. "This -morning, one would positively think she had been made twenty years -younger, and perched up there as a surprise-packet." - -Nora turned on him with a pleased smile. - -"This is a nice compliment," she said; "but I have no time for such -things just now. Any moment Mrs. Clerk might scurry round the corner, -and then my reputation would be gone for ever. She would probably tell -every one that I had come out to meet you on purpose." - -"Which is true, by the way, isn't it?" he inquired, smiling. - -"Yes, quite true; only my reason is respectable--not the sort of reason -that Mrs. Clerk would put down to my credit." - -He came closer and, leaning his elbows on the cross-bars of the stile, -looked up into her face. - -"I hope it is a nice reason," he said. - -"No," she answered, "it is a serious reason, and not in the least nice. -I expect you have already heard something about it, haven't you?" - -He hesitated. - -"Of course--I have heard rumours," he said. "As a rule I ignore such -things, but I could not altogether ignore this; it concerned you and -yours too closely." - -"Besides, it is true," she added. - -"True, Nora?" - -"Yes, quite true. We are ruined." - -"My dear girl!" - -"At least, comparatively ruined," she corrected. - -For a moment he was silent, apparently intent on the study of his own -strong square hands linked together in front of him. - -"How did it happen?" he asked at last. - -"I don't know," she answered impatiently. "Father bought some shares -that aren't any good. I suppose he wanted to make money." Her tone was -unconsciously scornful. - -"We all want to do that," Arnold observed in defence. - -The strongly arched eyebrows went up a degree. - -"At any rate," she said, "it is frightfully rough on mother. Her life -was hard enough before--what with ill-health and that sort of thing. -Now it will be ten times worse." She clenched her hands in a sudden -passionate protest. "I can't help it," she went on, "it seems to me all -wrong. She is the best, the cleverest woman I have ever met. She ought -to be the wife of a genius or a great, good man--not father's wife. -Father ought to have married Mrs. Clerk. Why did she marry him? It is -wicked, but it is the thought which comes into my mind every time I see -them together. And now, when I think that she will have to scrape and -save as well I----" She stopped short and looked at her companion -defiantly. "I suppose you are very shocked," she said. "That comes of -always feeling as though you were one of the family. I have to say just -what is passing in my mind." - -"I am glad you have so much confidence in me," Arnold answered -seriously. "All the same, I do not think that you are just to your -father. He is a thoroughly good man. Many people would think Mrs. -Ingestre very lucky." - -"Perhaps they _do_ think so," Nora said, with indifference. "That is -because no one about here is capable of understanding her. In any case, -it's no good talking about it. This latest trouble is quite enough." - -"I suppose Miles will be able to stay in the Army?" Arnold asked. - -"Oh, yes, that's settled." - -"What about your studies? They will have to be given up, of course?" - -"Why 'of course'?" she flashed out. - -"Because there won't be enough money for them," he explained in a -matter-of-fact tone. "For my part," he went on, "I shall be glad. I -dreaded the thought of coming home on leave and finding you gone. It -would have been sickening." - -"It will be still more 'sickening' now," she said, rather revengefully. -"I am going away for a long time, and to a place a long way off." - -"Nora! In Heaven's name where and why?" - -She laughed at his astonished, troubled face. - -"To Karlsburg, in Germany--as a companion." - -"To Germany! Why do you want to go there?" - -"Because I do not want to vegetate here." - -"Nora, you will hate it. You will be ill with home-sickness. You don't -know what it will be like. It is not as though you will be among your -own country-people. You will hate their manners, their customs, their -ways, and they will treat you like a servant. Little Nora, I can't bear -the thought of it." - -He spoke earnestly, almost incoherently. - -Nora shook her head. - -"There is no other alternative," she said. - -"There is one other alternative, Nora. Will you be my wife?" - -He had taken her hand, and she did not attempt to draw it back. Nor had -she changed colour. Her clear eyes studied his thin, rather gaunt face, -and passed on with frank criticism to his tall figure, loosely built and -rather stooping, in the grey Norfolk suit. - -"Nora," he said sternly, "I have asked you a question. You do not need -to look at me like that. I am not different to what I usually am." - -"But I am looking at you in a different light," she said. - -He seemed to think that she was laughing at him, or that she had not -taken him seriously. A deep flush mounted his sun-burnt cheeks. - -"Nora, I am very much in earnest," he said, his grasp on her hand -tightening. "Though you are a child you must have felt long ago that I -cared for you as something more than my little comrade. I love you, and -I have loved you a long time. Will you be my wife?" - -She shook her head gravely and regretfully. - -"I can't." - -"Why not?" - -"Because I do not love you." - -"Are you sure? How can you tell? You know nothing of love." - -"No," she agreed. "That is the very reason I will not marry you." - -He let her hand go and stood looking at her with his lips tightly -compressed, as though on a storm of protest. - -"Would you mind if I was quite honest?" she went on. "I would rather -tell you everything, even if it makes you think me bad and heartless." - -"I shall never think that of you," he said painfully. - -"Well, then, I did know you cared for me," she continued. "I was always -ashamed of myself for knowing. It seemed conceited of me to imagine -that a grown-up man should want such a child as I am--still, I couldn't -help it. I felt it. It seems one does feel that sort of thing. It is -like electricity in the air. Anyhow, it did not worry me very much. I -made up my mind that one of these days I would marry you. It seemed so -probable and natural that I should. We had known each other since I was -a baby and you a school-boy; our families were connected; we lived in -the same neighbourhood; we saw each other at regular intervals; we never -quarrelled--or hardly ever; we knew each other's faults better than most -people do who marry. Everything seemed to point in the same direction. -But I was such a school-girl. I felt that there was heaps of time for -me to grow to love you--or perhaps find out that I loved you already. -You see, I wasn't sure. I liked to be with you; but then, I like to be -with any one who is jolly and amusing, so that wasn't a sure test. -Yesterday I knew that there was no time left me. I guessed that I -should have to decide between you and Karlsburg. It sounds horrid, but -it is the truth. And I could not decide--I simply could not. Then I -thought--perhaps if you _asked_ me, perhaps if you told me about _your_ -love, it would awaken some sort of an answer in me--I should feel some -sort of signal such as I should imagine a woman would feel if the being -with whom she is destined to spend her life, and perhaps more, stood at -her side and held her hand. So I came out here, so that you would ask -me to be your wife. Are you angry?" - -He shook his head, frowning straight before him. - -"No." - -"It may sound heartless," she went on; "I did not mean it to be. I -thought it would be better if everything was spoken out clearly between -us. I knew you loved me, and I cared for you--I cared for you enough to -be glad if I found I loved you. For my own sake I should have been -glad. I know my life would be safe in your hands--that you are all an -English gentleman need be, but----" - -"Now comes the 'but,' he said, with bitterness. - -"It is no good," she said. "I can't pretend, can I? When you took my -hand, when you spoke, I felt nothing--absolutely nothing, or, perhaps, -only a little more critical than usual. I noticed, for instance, that -you stoop. It had never struck me before. I tell you that because it -shows you just how I feel." - -"Thank you," he said. - -She put her hand on his shoulder. - -"Don't be angry," she pleaded. "I _do_ care for you." - -"Then, if you care for me, couldn't you give me a chance--won't you -trust yourself to me, Nora? Love will come little by little." - -He had taken her hand again, and she felt that he trembled with -restrained feeling. - -"I have an idea that love never comes little by little," she said. - -They were a long time silent. Arnold had buried his face on his arms on -the cross-bars. Presently he looked up, and met her sorrowful gaze with -pale composure. - -"So it is to be Karlsburg?" he asked. - -"Yes, I think so." - -"Nora, I shan't give up hope." - -"It wouldn't be fair of me to say 'don't.'" - -"Still, when you come back?" ... - -"I can't promise anything," she said, but her eyes were full of pity and -kindness. "I am so sorry, Robert." - -"That's all right, dear. You can't help it." He pressed her hand a -last time. "I won't come on now. You understand--I would rather be -alone. Good-bye." - -"Good-bye." - -She watched him till he was out of sight. A tear rolled down her cheek. -She rubbed it quickly and impatiently away. Then she sprang down and -went home. She felt shaken and vaguely regretful, and was filled with -the one desire to be with her mother. - -Mrs. Ingestre was in the garden when Nora reached the vicarage. She was -looking paler than usual, but she greeted her daughter with the -customary grave, affectionate smile. - -"You are out early to-day," she said. - -Nora came and slipped her arm through her mother's. - -"I have something serious to tell you," she said. "Robert has asked me -to be his wife." - -She spoke quickly, breathlessly, as though disburdening her heart of an -uncomfortable load. Mrs. Ingestre said nothing, but waited quietly for -what was to come. She held a bunch of roses, and if Nora had been less -self-absorbed, she would have seen that the white hand trembled. - -"I wanted him to propose to me," Nora went on with her confession. "I -wanted to find out if I cared--I wanted to care, but--I don't--not -enough. So I said 'No.' I am glad it is over." - -Mrs. Ingestre pressed the arm resting on her own. - -"And I am glad that you have said 'no,'" she said. "I should always -have been afraid if it had been 'yes' that Karlsburg and vegetation had -given the casting vote. It is dangerous to treat marriage as an escape -loop-hole. Sometimes it means the tragedy of a lifetime." - -They talked of other things, as people do who have touched on a subject -too near the heart's innermost and untrodden places, but Mrs. Ingestre -had unconsciously lifted a corner of the veil. The words "a tragedy of -a lifetime" remained ineffaceable, and, though they had been untouched -with self-pity or bitterness, Nora believed she understood. - -From that moment she saw in her mother's face, words, and acts a new -meaning--the revelation of a harsh punishment nobly and patiently -accepted. - - - - - *CHAPTER IV* - - *OUTWARD BOUND* - - -After the final decision, events moved swiftly in Nora Ingestre's life. -It was almost as though Mrs. Ingestre was afraid delay might develop -imperceptibly into a gradual surrender to the protests of her husband -and the scoffing criticisms of her son. The former treated Nora's -journey as a sort of soul-contaminating emigration into the land of the -Moabites--a matter full of spiritual danger for her, and, incidentally, -of annoyance for him. During the six weeks that passed in -correspondence between Delford and Karlsburg and in busy preparations, -he varied the table conversation with anxious appeals to a watchful, if -occasionally inexplicable Providence on behalf of his dearest child and -a fretful review of his own crippled condition without her assistance. - -"God forbid that I should criticise my fellow-creatures," was his usual -introductory sentence, "but foreigners are not as we. They have ways -and customs which I cannot believe are well-pleasing in His sight. Do -not, my child, be led astray by the creeping influence of example; do -not surrender the proud and glorious tenets of your country because you -see many, less fortunate, following other paths than those you have been -taught to tread. They may seem fair, but remember the end is not here. -Be careful that a light and frivolous conception of a terrible God does -not taint your blood. I shall think of you always, dear child, but most -of all on Sundays, in our beloved church, when I shall pray that you too -are joining in the universal praise in some suitable place of worship." - -After which he was wont to remark that his sermon was not yet copied -out, and on Nora having offered to perform the task, only too thankful -that her soul's condition should cease to be made the subject for an -after-dinner's conversation, he would draw her to him and kiss her. - -"What shall I do without my right hand?" he usually added, with a grave -and melancholy shake of the head. - -It was then Miles's turn to take up the ball and keep it rolling after -his own methods and ideas. References to fat Germans and to people who -chose to associate with that sort of foreign bounder rather than stay at -home with decent English people were plentiful, and became tiresome even -in their variations. But alike to her brother's pungent sarcasm and her -father's periods Nora bore the same determined front. She was on her -mother's side, blindly and devotedly, and in spite of the fact that at -the bottom of her heart she shared the prejudices of the masculine -element in her family. She had the firm conviction that her mother was -right, and felt, moreover, that anything--even Karlsburg--was better -than the dreary Puritan monotony of her present life. - -As for Mrs. Ingestre, she said little, but went on quietly with the -necessary arrangements and ignored the constant, if indirect, attacks of -her husband and son. Neither ventured to criticise her plans to her -face. Miles lived in a wholesome shamefaced awe of his mother's dignity -and keener insight into his own weaknesses; the Rev. John had his -private reasons for caution. He had, in fact, waged one battle royal -with his wife, and had been momentarily forced to realise that for -twenty-five years he had been living with a master who had acted -willingly as his slave. Not that the awakening was more than momentary. -When he first recovered from the shock of finding himself confronted by -an iron wall of opposition, he had dozed back into the old delusion that -he was sent with a divine mission to be the guide and support to a frail -and helpless woman. But there were a few words uttered in the course of -a short and painful interview which the Rev. John could not forget. They -rankled in his mind as the proof of the injustice, ingratitude, and -perversity of the best of women. - -"We look at things from a different standpoint," Mrs. Ingestre had said -wearily. "You regard the world and all that it has to offer in beauty -and happiness as something to be hated and avoided. You do hate the -world. You boast of the fact. I am different. I believe that I was put -into the world to enjoy it to the uttermost power of my capability, that -every day in which I had not seen or done something new or experienced -some fresh wonder was a day wasted. I believed all this in spite of my -home and upbringing. I simply waited for the time when I should be -allowed to live as I understood living. I married you--and then too -late I saw that your ideas and mine clashed. It was a mistake, John, but -in all justice you must admit it was a mistake which you have never had -to feel. I have done my best to smother my wishes and instincts because -I realised that it was not your fault that I had seen more in you than -was really there. I have stood by you loyally--I felt it was my duty to -do so even at the cost of my own individuality. _I_ had made a mistake. -But it was a mistake none the less, John, and it is one for which Nora -shall not suffer. My responsibility to her is greater than it is to -you. She is my daughter. She shall live as her character requires--as -my character required. She shall not be stunted and dwarfed in her -growth. This is the first time I have ever opposed you. I do so -because I must." - -And, strangely enough, the Rev. John had found nothing to say. He -prayed very earnestly for his wife against the hydra-headed monster of -worldliness and vanity which he firmly believed had taken hold upon her -soul, but from that moment his protest confined itself to an increased -gravity in her presence and the indirect reproach of his after-dinner -orations. - -Thus time slipped past, and almost before she knew it the day of -departure dawned for Nora. In the fresh autumnal air and bright -sunshine she forgot the pangs of the previous night, when she had wept a -few tears of regret and vague remorse. In the darkness she had -reproached herself to the point of believing that to desert her father -and the copying of his sermons was a piece of unfilial selfishness. -Even Robert Arnold appeared to her in a new light--that light which our -"good-night" thoughts, first cousins to "last" thoughts, cast about -those dear to us. He seemed very dear to her at midnight. A dozen -episodes, grave and gay, in their common life recurred to her, also -illuminated by the same tender regret. A year's parting from him caused -her almost intolerable heartache, the more so because she had repulsed -him and the love after which she began to hunger. "If he will only -wait, I am sure I shall grow to love him," she confided to her damp -pillow, more than half convinced that the love had come already, -startled to life by the fear of loss and separation. - -But the morning sunshine is a spritely, cold-hearted magician. As the -shaky old four-wheeled cab, glorified in the village by the name of "the -brougham," rolled over the uneven cobbles, she found herself nodding a -cheerful, almost triumphant, farewell to the church and the monument. -They were in her eyes the symbols of a life she was leaving behind her, -like the gates of a not intolerable prison. She was quite sorry that -Mrs. Clerk failed to be on her usual watchful guard at the window. -Certainly, if the village was a sort of prison, Mrs. Clerk was its -spiritual gaoler, and Nora would have dearly loved to flourish her -dawning freedom in the disapproving face of her natural enemy. But Mrs. -Clerk was nowhere to be seen, and Nora's flashing glance encountered -only her mother's grave, thoughtful eyes. - -Against all advice, Mrs. Ingestre had determined to accompany her -daughter up to London. Perhaps she feared her husband's last -exhortations, perhaps she was urged by a secret heart-hunger. Yet her -whole face brightened with warm sympathy as she read in Nora's smile and -heightened colour the proud, bold joy of youth plunging for the first -time into the full tide of life. - -"You are glad to go?" she asked in a low voice that was without the -faintest tone of reproach. - -Nora nodded. - -"I am excited," she said. "I feel like a pioneer setting out on the -discovery of new worlds. And so I am. What does it matter that -millions of people have been where I am going? _I_ have never been -before. It is all new to me." - -Her father sighed in pained disapproval. - -"Let us hope that your adventures in foreign lands will not cost you too -dear, Nora," he said. "May they bring you back to your home contented -and grateful for its blessed peace." - -Mrs. Ingestre leant forward and laid her hand on Nora's. The movement -might have been made in confirmation of her husband's words--it might -also have had another meaning. It might have meant, taken in -conjunction with the almost youthful flash in the dark eyes: "Be of good -cheer! The world and life are before you. Grasp both in spite of every -one. They are worth fighting for!" - -And Nora's clasp responded. Her spirits were at their highest pitch. -She was afraid of nothing; the long journey, the foreign country, and -its despised inhabitants had no terrors for her. Youth and morning -sunshine swept her forward on a wave of impetuous joy. She even found -it in her heart to be thankful for the "blows of Providence," though for -other reasons than those of her piously resigned parent. "After all, -now I shall be able to fight my own battles," was her proud thought. - -The day in London cast the first shadow over her courage. They arrived -in the metropolis at midday, and as the boat-train left at eight o'clock -in the evening there was a whole afternoon to be spent wandering about -the busy streets--a pleasant occupation if you understand how to go -about it. But this was one thing that the Rev. John did not understand. -He belonged to the class of people for whom London is a great black, -smutty monster, replete with all the vices and crimes of Babylon, and -his passage through its heart was a veritable penance. His sincerely -Puritan temperament--for, to do him justice, he was but half a hypocrite -and only that much unconsciously, like the rest of us--found "sermons in -stones," and in everything else from the wicked luxury of the lady -lounging in her victoria to the ragged profligacy of the beggar. -Sermons he delivered, therefore, and Nora, trudging wearily at his side, -with all her eyes on the ignored shop windows, listened in sullen -defiance. She loved London with the almost passionate love which is -given to no other city in the world. She loved the fogs, its dirt, its -stern, relentless bustle; she felt a sort of vague kinship with its -vagabonds, its grandees, its very policemen, and her father's criticisms -goaded her to distraction. Yet once, as they dragged themselves into an -A.B.C. for tea, she saw her mother's face, and her anger died down, -yielding to the first cold touch of home-sickness. There was something -written on the pale, worn face which she could not read but which filled -her with vague pain. Visited by what unshed years of regret, longing, -and unavailing remorse had those quiet eyes watched the tide of life -flow past them? Nora did not know. In an instinctive, almost childish, -sympathy she slipped her hand into Mrs. Ingestre's. - -"Dear, dear mother!" she said, "I wish I could make you happy--really -happy." - -The Rev. John had gone to order the buns and tea which were to form the -_pièces de résistance_ of their evening meal. Mrs. Ingestre looked down -into the young, earnest face. Her own face relaxed an instant from its -own usual serenity. It was as though a sudden gust of wind had passed -over a lake, ruffling its smooth, peaceful surface. - -"Be happy," she said almost imperatively. "Whatever else happens, -remember that you have the right to happiness. And to be happy you must -open your heart wide--you must welcome all that is good, even if it is -not the good you have been taught to know. Don't let Delford or--or -even us make your standard. Keep the past and those that love you, but -don't let them hem you--don't let them stand between you and the future. -Show your new world a big, generous, open heart, and it will open a -heart as big and generous to you. Be arrogant and petty, and everything -about you will reflect yourself. Oh, Nora, I am not preaching; a narrow -heart is a curse to others and to itself." - -There was a peculiar emphasis in her words, a note in her voice so like -despair that it rang long afterwards in Nora's memory. It cast a deeper -shadow over her sinking spirits, and as she walked by her mother's side -towards the station which was to mark their first long parting, the hot, -burning tears welled up in her eyes and only by a strong effort were -kept back from overflow. Since that morning, with its brilliant -sunshine, its youth and hope, all had changed within her and without. -The sunshine had yielded to cold, dark shadows, youth and hope lagged -wearily, overcome by the growing tide of home-love. "Dear old England!" -Nora whispered to herself. "Dear old England!" And the very shop -windows, casting bright golden patches on the thickening fog, seemed to -have a special light of their own. The faces of the passers-by were -dear to her because they were English faces and because she was going to -a strange country, where she would see them no more. Even the red-brick -church and "the monument" became hallowed in her memory. In that moment -of youthful grief she would have given worlds to know that she was going -home, that there were to be no partings, that she was to live her life -in the dull peace to which she had waved a joyous farewell that very -morning. - -They entered the great station. The bustle and confusion brought her no -relief--rather, it increased the sense of helplessness which was growing -stronger and stronger. For a moment she lost sight of her father and -mother, and it was then she felt for the first time all the poignancy of -the loneliness which was, in less than a quarter of an hour, to become -an irreparable reality. She turned, dazedly seeking a familiar face, -and in the same instant a firm, warm hand clasped hers. - -"Nora--little girl!" - -It was Arnold who stood beside her. She recognised his strong, gaunt -face with a sudden, joyous start which brought the colour to her cheeks. -Had she unconsciously been longing for him? Had the heartache been a -little because she had not seen him, because ever since that decisive -morning he had kept away from her, taking her dismissal as final? Was -it final? These were things he at least might have asked as he felt the -quick response of her touch and saw the light flash back into her -tear-filled eyes. But Nora thought of nothing--asked no questions. She -clung to his arm like a tired, lost child. - -"Oh, I am so glad," she said, almost incoherent with relief, "so glad!" - -"I couldn't keep away," he said, himself shaken by her sudden -self-abandonment. "I did my best, but in the end I had to come. I -could not let you go so far from me without a God-speed. And something -seemed to tell me that you would be glad to see me." - -"I am!" she cried. "Of course I am!" - -They reached Mrs. Ingestre and her husband, who were busy with the -luggage registration. A shadow seemed to pass over the latter's face as -she saw the two together, but she greeted Arnold with her usual serene -courtesy. - -"Miles has come too," she said. - -Miles was, indeed, very much _en évidence_. He had made himself what he -called "smart" for the occasion, and an extraordinary high collar and a -flagrantly red tie certainly put him beyond all danger of being -overlooked. His face was a trifle flushed--perhaps with the hurry of -his arrival--and his manner jocose. - -"You look as though you might flood the station any minute," he told -Nora. "I bet anything you'd give your bottom dollar to be out of it." - -"Don't, Miles!" she answered gently. "Of course I am sorry to leave you -all. It is only natural." - -Her eyes met Arnold's, and perhaps they said more than she knew. He -came back to her side. - -"Let us go and find a comfortable corner for you," he suggested. - -She followed him passively, and they walked along the platform to the -end of the train, where the crowd of passengers was less dense. - -"Dear little Nora!" he said, looking down at her with infinite pity and -tenderness. The tears rushed again to her eyes. She fought them down -courageously, but her voice shook as she answered: - -"It is so hard to go," she said, "much harder than I thought this -morning. I have only just realised how dear everything--everybody is to -me." - -"Nora, that is what I hoped. You are so young--you do not know your own -heart. Now perhaps you can tell better--if there is any chance for me." - -She saw the pleading in his face, and she made no answer. Her throat -hurt her and she was no longer so sure. She did care for him, and if -she had felt no thrill of passion at his touch, his presence seemed to -envelop her in a warm, comforting glow of protecting tenderness -infinitely precious. - -"Nora," he went on, "even now it is not too late. My dearest, what are -you waiting for? What are you expecting to find? I believe I could -make you happy--my love is so great." - -She threw up her head with the determined gesture he knew so well. - -"I must go," she said. "It would be weak and cowardly to turn back at -the last minute. Only----" - -"You will come back soon?" - -She nodded, her lips trembling. - -"I feel I must," she said. - -"And you will write to me?" - -The Rev. John bustled up to them. He was flustered and nervous, as -people are to whom a journey of any sort is an event full of dangerous -possibilities. - -"You must get in at once," he said fussily. "The train is just off. -There, God bless you, my dear child! Remember all I have said. And if -you are not happy, or the people not nice, let us know at once." - -Mrs. Ingestre clasped her daughter in a short, almost passionate -embrace. - -"Be happy!" she said again; and the words were a blessing. - -The carriage door slammed to; somewhere from the rear they heard the -guard's shrill whistle, and gradually the train began to glide forward, -leaving behind the little group of dearly loved faces. - -Arnold walked at the carriage side. - -"You will write to me often?" he pleaded. - -"Yes, yes, I will write." - -"Tell me everything--everything you think and feel. Oh, Nora, it is so -hard to let you go! But I have taken fresh hope. I believe you will -come back soon--I believe it will all come right for us both." - -The train was gathering speed. He had to run to keep pace with her -carriage. - -"Nora, after all--you do care a little, don't you?" - -She nodded. She was so tired, so heart-sick, that had it been possible -she would have sprung out and put her hand in his in weary, thankful -surrender. But it was too late. She could only look at him, and again -her eyes told more than she perhaps would have said. He stood still, -hat in hand, and waved to her, and the last she saw of him was a face -full of hope and gratitude. - -"When you send for me, I shall come," he said. - -The train glided into the suffocating darkness of a tunnel, and when -they once more emerged the station was far behind, and they were -travelling faster and faster into the night. The lights of London, of -home, of England swept past in blurred lines of fire. - -Nora Ingestre watched them, fighting bravely; but when they had -disappeared she covered her eyes with her hand and wept the silent, -bitter tears of a first exile. - - - - - *CHAPTER V* - - *AMONG THE HEATHEN* - - -"Karlsburg! _Alles aussteigen_--Karlsburg!" - -Nora sprang up, roughly aroused from a half-doze by the stentorian tones -and a general move in her compartment. The fat German who had occupied -the corner seat opposite her, and who had spent the journey in doing his -best to justify her scorn and contempt for all foreigners, was heaving -great masses of untidy luggage out of the window and shouting furiously -for a _Gepäckträger_. In this performance he trod more than once on -Nora's toes, thus arousing her so effectually that she made haste to -convey herself and her belongings out into the narrow corridor congested -with passengers and baggage. After a brief energetic scramble down the -appalling staircase which separates the continental traveller from the -platform, she landed safely and drew a sigh of relief. "Here I am at -last!" she thought, comforted by the knowledge that the worst was over. -The "worst" in connection with separations is the first twenty-four -hours, the first night-fall, and the first awaking to changed -surroundings and circumstances. After that, the human capacity for -adjustment mercifully begins to display itself, and the first poignancy -of grief is over--at any rate for those who have courage and youth to -help them. And Nora had both. As she stood that morning on the deck of -the Flushing boat, watching the pale, low outline of land, she had -already felt the first glow of returning vigour. The keen sea-air had -blown colour into her cheeks; the tears which had threatened to assert -themselves so often the night before had dried at their source, and she -had flung herself into the confusion of exchange from the boat to the -waiting train with a pleased realisation of her own independence. Then -had come the long and glorious panorama along the Rhine, the frowning -castles, the majestic spires of the great Dom, the new types of men and -women hurrying backwards and forwards about the busy platforms. - -During the long hours Nora's watchful, eager eyes never closed. This, -then, was the new world to which she was to open her heart; these, then, -the people whose qualities of goodness she was to learn to honour. The -first task was easy enough--it was, indeed, a beautiful world. But the -people? They were of another type than that to which she was -accustomed, and Nora, imbued with the pleasant insular conviction that -all English people are tall and handsome, found them so far little to -her taste. In truth, a firmly rooted prejudice is not to be overcome in -a moment, or even by the wisest precept, and not all Mrs. Ingestre's -eloquence could crush back the half-conscious superiority which her -daughter experienced in that stuffy second-class coupé. Her -fellow-passengers, be it confessed, were stout and inelegant, and they -obviously preferred the window closed--points which were alone quite -sufficient to stamp them as belonging to an inferior class. But the -chief point was Nora's own nationality. The mere fact that she was -English would have kept her in countenance even when confronted with the -whole Imperial family, and, indeed, throughout the journey, with its -difficulties, its various encounters with idiotic foreign porters who -refuse to understand the English language, no matter how loud it is -shouted, she was sustained by a calm and inborn knowledge of her racial -superiority. Thus she felt no sense of loneliness or helplessness until -the voice shouting "Karlsburg" had hurried her out on to the crowded, -bustling platform. There for the first time she felt her own -insignificance, her own strangeness. She was really in a foreign -country at last, and with all her superiority she stood there a forlorn -handful of pretty, despairing girlhood, waiting for the first jabbering, -gesticulating savage to rescue her from her perplexity. - -"_Ach, liebes Kind, da bist du! Willkommen!_" - -The eager, kindly voice and the cordial embrace were equally sudden and -somewhat overwhelming. Steadying her hat from the effects of the shock, -Nora turned to find herself held by a short, stout little woman, very -out of breath, very excited, who was smiling and nodding at her as -though at an old and very dear acquaintance. - -"Ach! you do not know me?" she interrogated, adding in the same gasp, -"But how should you? I am ze old Fräulein Müller--you haf heard of her? -Long ago she did teach ze muzzer, and now here is ze daughter--her -muzzer every bit of her. _Ach, du lieber Gott im Himmel_! But I must -not so much talk. Give ze man your _Gepäckschein, liebes Kind_." - -Half overcome by the torrent of words, Nora produced the document which -she supposed answered to the name of Gepäckschein. In the interval, -whilst Fräulein Müller was apparently pouring volumes of mingled -explanation and abuse over the head of an equally flustered porter, Nora -had opportunity to study her rescuer. Fräulein Müller, she imagined, -was well over the fifties and, on account of her stoutness, looked her -age, but her face was as lively as it was plain, and the rotund figure -in its dowdy brown dress cut after the manner of a long-forgotten -fashion seemed to be bubbling over with seething sprightliness. Nora had -a quick eye, and her critical faculties, at home usually dormant, were -on the alert. "How badly the Germans dress!" she thought. "What -dreadful boots--and that dress! I suppose it is her best, and it was -probably quite expensive. Whatever could have made any one choose a -colour like that?" - -Her observations were cut short by her unconscious victim grasping her -by the arm and hurrying her up and down dark flights of steps, the whole -way continuing her explanations, peppered with gasps and exclamatory -German outbreaks. - -"Ze portermans are ze stupidest race on ze earth," she panted, "but I -haf told him--I haf his number--it is zirty-one--please try and -remember, _liebes Kind_--zat he must your _Koffers_ bring at once. Ze -Frau Baronin's carriage is not big enoff to take more zan us two and -your rugs. _Ach, je_! Ze many steps are not for one so short in ze -breaths as I!" - -They were out of the station at last--Nora had delivered up her ticket -with the feeling that the last link between her and home was gone--and -were greeted by a simply dressed footman, who conducted them to a -brougham promptly summed up by Nora as shabby. - -Fräulein Müller dropped back into the cushions with a sigh of -satisfaction. - -"Now all is well," she said. "I shall drive wiz you to the Frau -Baronin's house and see you safe in. She ask me to fetch you, as I knew -I could easy find you. _Ach, sie ist die Liebenswürdigkeit selber, die, -Frau Baronin!_" - -"You are her great friend?" Nora suggested, seeking something to say. - -Fräulein Müller threw up her plump hands in the straining brown kid -gloves and laughed. - -"Nee, nee, _liebes Kind_, how should zat be? I am Fräulein Müller--old -Fräulein Müller--and she is the Baronin von Arnim." - -Perhaps Nora's look showed that the all-apparent distinction was not -clear, for her companion went on with a soft chuckle: - -"Zat is somezing you vill understand wiz ze time, my dear. Ze Baronin -is von great person and I am von nobody. Zat is all. I am proud zat I -haf brought a so nice English girl--and glad to haf been able to give ze -daughter of my dear pupil so nice a place. I am sure you will be very -happy." - -Nora's arched brows contracted for a minute. Something in Fräulein -Müller's tone or words ruffled her--she was not quite sure why. The -little woman was so obviously and naïvely impressed with the glories of -Nora's new position and with the greatness and splendour of the -"Baronin," of whom she spoke with almost bated breath, that Nora's -self-importance was somewhat wounded. Besides which, she regarded both -matters as decidedly "unproven." The "Baronin," she felt sure, was a -snobbish person, probably very stout and ponderous, and as for her -splendour and greatness, it remained yet to be seen. Armorial bearings -with a seven-pearled crown--after all, Nora knew very well that -everybody was a count or a baron in Germany--and a bone-shaking brougham -with a shabby footman proved nothing at all. Thus Nora expressed -neither gratitude nor gratification, and her manner was perhaps more -chilly than she intended, for her companion subsided into an abrupt -silence, which lasted until the carriage drew up and the door was opened -by the despised attendant. - -"Now you are here!" she cried, springing out with surprising agility. -"I vill come no further--my leetle _étage_ is just round the corner. In -a day or two I vill venture to pay respects on the Baronin and see how -all goes wiz you. Until then--_lebewohl_!" - -Much to Nora's relief, she was not embraced a second time. A warm -squeeze of the hand, which seemed, somehow, to express a slight -"hurtness," and the stumpy little figure disappeared into the darkness, -leaving Nora to face her destiny alone. - -It was now dusk, and she had only time to take in the dim outline of a -small, square house before the footman led her up the steps to the -already opened door. A flood of light greeted her as she entered the -hall, and seemed to intensify its unfurnished coldness. Little as she -had expected, the barren white walls and carpetless stone floor cast a -chill over her courage which not even the beaming smile of a -pleasant-faced but far from stylish parlourmaid could wholly dispel. - -"_Die gnädige Frau wartet im Salon_," she said, and proceeded to conduct -the way farther down the passage, switching off the electric light -carefully as she went. - -In spite of everything, Nora's heart beat faster with anticipation and -an inevitable nervousness. The great moment had arrived which was to -decide the future. "As long as she is fat and comfortable like Fräulein -Müller, I daresay it won't be so bad," she told herself, but prepared -for the worst. A minute later and she was ushered into a room so -utterly at variance with what had gone before and her own expectations -that she stood still on the threshold with a little inward gasp of -surprise. - -The softly shaded light revealed to her quick young eyes an elegance, if -not luxury, whose details she had no time to gather. She received only -an impression of warm, delicate colours, soft stuffs, rich, -sound-deadening carpets and the touch of an indefinable personality, -whose charm seemed to linger on every drapery. From the ugly stone wall -to this had been no more than a step, but that step divided one world -from another, and Nora stood hesitating seeking in the shadows the -personality whose influence she felt already like a living force. She -had no more than an instant to wait. Then a tall, slight figure rose -out of one of the chairs drawn out of the circle of light and came to -meet her. - -"You are very welcome, Miss Ingestre," a voice said, and her hand was -taken and she was led farther into the room. "I would have met you -myself, but I had no method of recognising you, and the _gute_ Fräulein -Müller seemed so sure that she would be able to find her old pupil's -daughter." - -The voice was low, the English almost perfect, though a little slow, as -though from want of practice, the touch of the hand firm and cool. -Somehow, in that moment poor Nora felt painfully aware that she was -dirty and untidy from the journey and, above all, that she was terribly -young and awkward. Yet her natural frankness stood her in good stead. -She looked up, smiling. - -"Fräulein Müller picked me out at once," she said. "I must be very like -my mother, otherwise I cannot think how she found me." - -"In any case, the great thing is that you are found," Frau von Arnim -said. "Come and sit down here. You see, we have a real English tea -waiting for you." - -Nora obeyed willingly, and whilst the white, delicate hands were busy -with the cups standing on the low tray, she had opportunity to study the -woman upon whom the weal or woe of perhaps a whole long year depended. -"She is not as beautiful as my mother," Nora thought, but the criticism -was no disparagement. If Frau von Arnim was not actually beautiful, she -at least bore on every feature marked refinement, and the expression of -the whole face, pale and slightly haughty though it was, had a certain -indefinable fascination which held Nora's attention riveted. She was -dressed elegantly, moreover, in some dark colour which suited the brown -hair and the slow hazel eyes which, Nora felt positive, had in one quiet -glance taken in every detail of her appearance. - -"We are so very glad that you have come," Frau von Arnim went on. "My -daughter and I love everything that is English, but, alas, nice English -people are _raræ aves_ in Karlsburg. We have only the scum of all -nations, and I cannot tell you how pleased we were when your mother -decided to entrust you to our care." - -The tone of the words was delicate and kind, suggesting a conferred -favour on Nora's side which somehow had the reverse effect. In her -youthful and insular arrogance Nora had felt that the "German family" -which boasted of her services was to be congratulated, and that the real -and only question of importance was whether she liked _them_. Now she -found herself wondering what this serene and graceful woman was thinking -of _her_. - -"I'm afraid I'm not a bit a glory to my nation," she said, with sincere -schoolgirlish humility. "I wish I was." - -Frau von Arnim laughed. - -"We like you very much already," she said. "Besides, you could not help -being nice with such a charming mother." - -Nora started with pleased surprise, and whatever had been unconsciously -antagonistic in her melted into an impulsive gratitude which spoke out -of the heightened colour and bright, frank eyes. - -"Do you know my mother, then?" she asked. - -"No, only by her letters. But letters betray far more than the writers -think. I often feel when I meet some reserved, unfathomable person who -interests me, that if he would only write me the shortest note I should -know more of him than after hours of conversation. And Mrs. Ingestre -and I have exchanged many long letters. We feel almost as though she -were an old friend; don't we, Hildegarde?" - -This sudden appeal to a third person revealed to Nora the fact that they -were not alone. Frau von Arnim rose, smiling at her bewilderment, and -took her by the hand. - -"You must think us very rude, strange people," she said, "but my -daughter has been listening and watching all this time. You see, it is -for her sake that we wanted you to come and live with us, and she had a -whim that she would like to see you without being seen. Invalids may -have whims and be pardoned, may they not?" - -Whilst she had been speaking she had led Nora to the far end of the -room. There, lying on a sofa drawn well into the shadow, Nora now -perceived a girl of about her own age, whose thin, white face was turned -to greet her with a mingling of apology and that pathetic humility which -goes with physical weakness. - -"Do not be angry," she said, holding out a feeble hand. "I am so afraid -of strangers. I felt I should like to see you first--before you saw me. -I do not know why--it was just a whim, and, as mother says, when one is -ill one may perhaps be forgiven." - -"Of course," Nora said gently. To herself she was thinking how -beautiful suffering can be. The face lifted to hers--the alabaster -complexion, the great dark eyes and fine aristocratic features framed in -a bright halo of disordered hair--seemed to her almost unearthly in its -spiritualised loveliness. And then there was the expression, so void of -all vanity, so eloquent with the appeal: "You are so strong, so -beautiful in your youth and strength. Be pitiful to me!" - -Governed by some secret impulse, Nora looked up and found that Frau von -Arnim was watching her intently. A veil had been lifted from the proud -patrician eyes, revealing depths of pain and grief which spoke to Nora -much as the younger eyes had spoken, save with the greater poignancy of -experience: "You are strong, and life offers you what it will always -withhold from my child. Be pitiful!" - -And then prejudice, reserve, her own griefs, were swept out of Nora's -hot young heart on a wave of sympathy. She still held the thin hand -clasped in her own. She clasped it tighter, and her answer to the -unspoken appeal came swift and unpremeditated. - -"I hope you will like me," she said. "I am so glad I have come." - -Hildegarde Arnim's pale face flushed with pleasure. - -"I _do_ like you," she said. "I do hope you will be happy with us." - -And then, to their mutual surprise, the two girls kissed each other. - - - - - *CHAPTER VI* - - *A LETTER HOME* - - -"I never realised before now how true it is that all men are brothers," -Nora Ingestre wrote home to her mother at the end of her first week in -Karlsburg. "I used to believe that we English were really the only -people who counted, the really only nice people, and the rest were sort -of outsiders on quite another level. And now all my ideas are turned -topsy-turvy. I keep on saying to myself, 'Why, she is just like an -Englishwoman,' or 'How English he looks!' and then I have to admit that -the simple reason why I think they look English is because they look -nice, and it seems there are nice people all the world over. Of course -there are differences--one notices them especially among the poorer -classes--and so far, I can only judge the men from a distance; but if I -met the _Gnädige Frau_, as she is called, in any drawing-room, I should -think, 'Well, with one exception, she is the most charming woman I have -ever met,' and never have so much as guessed that she could belong to -any country but my own. Hildegarde is a dear, too. Although she has -known me such a short time, she treats me almost as though I were her -sister--in fact, I am a sort of _enfant gâté_ in the house, everybody, -from Freda, the sturdy little housemaid, upwards, doing their best to -show their goodwill to the '_kleine englische Dame_.' (You see, I am -picking up German fast!) Both the _Gnädige Frau_ and Hildegarde know -English well and seem to enjoy talking, though one half of the day is -dedicated to my first German efforts, which, I am sure, have the most -comical results. But no one ever laughs at you. Even Johann, the -coachman, keeps quite a straight face when I call him '_du_'--a -disgraceful piece of endearment which seems to haunt me every time I -open my mouth. That reminds me to tell you that yesterday we went for a -lovely drive in the Wild Park, the private property of the Grand Duke. -Driving is the only outdoor enjoyment which is left for poor Hildegarde, -and it is terribly hard on her, because she loves riding and driving and -tennis, and all that sort of thing. It seems she had a bad accident -whilst out riding two years ago with her cousin, who is a captain in the -Artillery here, and since then she has always been ill. She never -complains, and is always so sweet and patient that it makes one despise -oneself for not being an angel outright, but I know that she has her -struggles. Yesterday, for instance, Johann was giving the horse a -breathing space in a lovely _allée_--oh, you would have enjoyed it, -darling! It was just like a glorious bit of England, with great oak -trees on either side and lots of deer and--there, now! I have lost -myself! Where was I?--Oh, yes, in the _allée_, when an officer galloped -past and saluted. I hardly saw his face, but he certainly looked very -smart in his dark-blue uniform, and he sat his horse as though he were -part of it. He turned out to be Herr von Arnim, the cousin in question, -and I would not have thought any more about him had it not been for a -glimpse I caught of Hildegarde's face. She is always pale, but just at -that moment she looked almost ghastly, and her lips were tight-pressed -together, as though she were in pain. Somehow, I knew it was not -physical, so I did not dare say anything, but I have wondered since -whether it was the memory of all the splendid gallops she used to have -and will never have again, or whether--but there! I must not let my -fancy run away with me. Anyhow, I am quite anxious to see the 'Herr -Baron' again. Perhaps I shall to-morrow at the _Gnädige Frau's_ 'At -Home'--at least, I suppose it is an 'At Home' or a German equivalent--a -function which fills me with the profoundest awe and alarm. Imagine me, -dearest, with my knowledge of the German language, in a crowd of -natives! What will happen to me, I wonder? If I am lucky, the earth -will open and swallow me up before I say something dreadful by mistake. - - -"_September_ 15.--You see, I am writing my letter in diary form, so that -you get all the details--which is what you want; is it not, dearest? -And, indeed, there are so many details that I do not know where to -begin. At any rate, the 'At Home' is over, which is a comfort, for it -was even more exciting than I had expected. The crowd was awful--there -were so many people that one could hardly breathe, and I was so -frightened of some one speaking to me that I had to keep on repeating to -myself, 'Remember you are English! Remember you are English!' in order -to prevent a disorderly and undignified flight. Fortunately there was -too much confusion for anybody to notice my insignificant person, and at -last I managed to hide myself in an obscure alcove, where I could see -and not be seen. On the whole it was the most mixed 'At Home' I have -ever seen, and I am sure it would have shocked Mrs. Chester beyond -words, You know how much she thinks of clothes and all that sort of -thing. Well, here, apparently, no one thinks anything of them at all. -Some of the biggest 'aristocrats'--they were nearly all 'aristocrats,' -as I found out afterwards--were dressed in fashions which must have been -in vogue when I was born, and nobody seemed to think it in the least -funny. Of course, there were well-dressed people and a few young -officers in uniform, who brightened matters up with a little colour, but -I had no time to take in more than a general impression, for just as I -was settling down to enjoy myself, some one spoke to me. Fortunately it -was in English, or I have no doubt I should have fainted; as it was, I -looked up and found a man in a pale-blue uniform standing beside me with -his heels clapped together, evidently waiting for me to say something. -I supposed he had introduced himself, for I had heard him say 'Bauer' in -a rather grating voice, but I felt very far from friendly. You know how -I am, mother. I take violent likes and dislikes, and I cannot hide -either the one or the other. And almost in the same instant that I saw -this man's face I disliked him. I cannot tell you why. He was -good-looking enough and his manners were polished, but there was -something in his face, in the way he looked at me, which made me -angry--and afraid. It sounds absurd to talk of being afraid at a -harmless German 'At Home,' but if I believed in omens I should say that -the man is destined to bring me misfortune and that the instant I saw -him I knew it. Please don't laugh--I am only trying to explain to you -how intense the feeling was, and to make my subsequent behaviour seem -less foolish. I fancy I was not friendly in my answers or in my looks, -but he sat down beside me and went on talking. It does not matter what -he said. He spoke English well, and seemed to 'listen to himself' with -a good deal of satisfaction, all the time never taking his eyes off my -face. Somehow, though everything he said was polite enough, I felt that -he looked upon me as a kind of 'dependent' with whom he could amuse -himself as he pleased; and that made my blood boil. I prayed for some -one to come and fetch me away, and just then Frau von Arnim passed close -to where I was sitting. I heard her ask after me and say something -about music (I had promised to play), and suddenly I felt ashamed. I -wondered what she would think of me if she found me sitting in a -secluded corner with a man whom I had never seen before and to whom I -had never been properly introduced. After all, she does not know me -well enough to understand--well, that I am not that sort, and the idea -that she might think badly of me with an appearance of reason was more -than could bear. There is a small door in the alcove leading out into -the hall, and just when my uninvited companion was in the middle of a -sentence I got up and went out without a word of explanation. I am -afraid it was neither a very dignified nor sensible proceeding, and it -certainly landed me into worse difficulties, since the next thing I knew -after my stormy exit was that I had collided violently with a man -standing in the hall. Of course, my fragment of German forsook me, and -I gasped, 'I beg your pardon!' in English, to which my victim answered, -'I beg _your_ pardon!' also in English, but with the faintest possible -accent. After that I recovered enough from the shock to draw back and -assume as much dignity as I could under the circumstances. My victim was -a tall, broad-shouldered man--of course in uniform-and though it was -already twilight in the hall I could see that he had a pleasant, -sun-burnt face and bright eyes, which at that moment looked very much -amused. I suppose my attempt at dignity _was_ rather a failure. 'I -hope I did not hurt you?' he asked, and when I had reassured him on that -point he suggested that he should introduce himself, as there was no one -there to do it for him. Whereupon he clicked his spurs together and -said, 'Von Arnim. Miss Ingestre, I think?' I asked him how he knew my -name, and he said, as a Prussian officer it was his duty to know -everything, and that he had heard so much about Miss Ingestre that it -was impossible not to recognise her. And then we stood looking at each -other, I feeling horribly awkward, he evidently still very much amused. -Then he proposed to take me back into the drawing-room, but that was the -last thing I wanted, and I said so in my usual rude way, which seemed to -amuse him still more. - -"'But why not?' he asked. (I give you the conversation in full.) - -"'Because they wanted me to play.' (It was the first excuse I could -think of.) - -"'Is that kind? You are depriving my aunt's guests of a great treat.' - -"'How do you know?' - -"'Military instinct.' - -I could not help laughing at him. - -"'Your military instinct is all wrong,' I said. 'At any rate, I don't -want to go back.' - -"I don't know why, but I fancy he suspected there was something more in -the matter than I had explained. At any rate, he grew suddenly quite -grave. - -"'You see, I have taken you prisoner of war,' he said, 'and it is my -duty to keep you in sight. At the same time, I wish to make your -captivity as agreeable as possible. Suppose I persuade my aunt not to -worry you to play, and suppose I see that no one else worries you--will -you come back?' - -"I said 'Yes' in a lamb-like fashion altogether new to me, and after he -had hung up his sword he opened the door and bowed me in. I saw my -first partner staring at us, but I felt curiously at my ease, not any -more strange and helpless. And Herr von Arnim was so nice. After he -had paid his respects all round he came back and brought me some tea and -talked to me about the opera, to which we are going to-morrow evening. -I forgot to tell you about it, didn't I? It is the Walküre, and I am -bubbling over with excitement, as Frau von Arnim has given me her seat -at the opera so that I can always go with Hildegarde. She is good to me. -Sometimes I think she must be very rich, and then there are things which -make me doubtful--the old pill-box brougham, for instance. But perhaps -that is just German style--or lack of it. I must stop now, or I shan't -have stamps enough to post this letter. Indeed, I do not know why I -have given you all these details. They are very unimportant--but -somehow they seemed important when I was writing. Good-night, dearest! - -"_September_ 16.--It is nearly twelve o'clock, and the _Gnädige Frau_ -told me I should hurry straight to bed and make up for the lost -beauty-sleep, but I simply can't! I feel I must sit down and tell you -all about it whilst I am still bubbling over with it all and the -_Feuerzauber_ and the _Liebesmotif_ and all the other glories are making -symphonies of my poor brains. Oh, mother darling! how you would have -enjoyed it! That is always my first thought when I hear or see -something beautiful, and to-night--to-night I feel as though I had been -let into a new world. Do you remember that glorious evening when you -took me to hear _Traviata_ in Covent Garden? Of course I loved it--but -this was so absolutely different. It was like drinking some noble wine -after sugared buns and milk. The music didn't try to please you--it -just swept you away with it on great wings of sound till you stood above -all Creation and looked into the deepest secrets of life. Your own -heart opened and grew, everything mean and petty was left far, far -beneath. I felt suddenly that I understood things I had never even -thought of before--myself and the whole world. Of course, that is over -now. I am just like a wingless angel stumbling over the old earthly -obstacles, but I shall never forget the hours when I was allowed to fly -above them all. Oh dear, does this sound very silly? It is so hard to -explain. I feel as though this evening had wrought some great change in -me, as though I had grown wiser, or at any rate older. Perhaps it is -only a feeling which will pass, and I shall awake to-morrow to find -myself the old Nora. Surely one evening cannot bring a lasting change! - -"I must not forget to tell you that I met Herr von Arnim again. He came -up to speak to Hildegarde after the first act, and I was glad to find -that my first impression of him was correct. If I had gone by my old -prejudices and by Lieutenant Bauer I should have always believed that -German officers were frightful boors, but Herr von Arnim seems just like -an English gentleman, a little stiff and ceremonious at first, perhaps, -but not in the least conceited or self-conscious. Of course he talks -English excellently--he told me he was working it up for some -examination or other, so perhaps he thought I was a good subject to -practise on. At any rate, he was very attentive, and stayed with us -until long after the bell had rung, so that he had to hurry to get back -to his place in time. There were quite a number of officers present, -and some of the uniforms are very smart, but I like the Artillery -best--dark blue with a black velvet collar. It looks elegant and -business-like at the same time. Certainly it suits Herr von Arnim. He -is not exactly a handsome man, but well-built, with a strong, sunburnt -face, a small fair moustache and very straight-looking eyes with those -little lines at the corners which you always say indicate a -well-developed sense of humour. Altogether, good looks and nice manners -seem to run in the Arnim family. He brought us some chocolates in the -second pause, and was very amusing. Hildegarde seems fond of him and he -of her in a cousinly sort of way. He is so kind and attentive to -her--almost as though it were his fault that she is a cripple. I -wonder--oh dear! I have just heard the clock outside strike one, and I -am so sleepy I do not know how I shall ever get into bed. I meant only -to tell you about the music, and instead I have been wandering on about -Wolff von Arnim! Good-night, my darling. Though I am so happy I am -always thinking of you and wishing you were here to make me enjoy it all -double. Sometimes I am very 'mother-sick,' but I fight against it -because I know you want me to be happy, and it seems ungrateful to -lament. Love to father and Miles and ever so much to you, dearest. - -"Your devoted daughter, - "NORA. - -"P.S.--I have written a little note to Robert telling him about my -arrival. He asked me to, and I couldn't refuse, could I? He seems so -genuinely fond of me, and I--oh dear! I only wish I knew! - -"P.SS.--They are giving the second evening of the _Ring_ next Sunday. -Herr von Arnim says that a great many people think it even grander than -the Walküre and the _Götterdämmerung_ (Sunday fortnight) grandest of -all. Hildegarde is going to both, if she is strong enough, and he says -I _must_ come too. I told him that I knew father would strongly -disapprove, and he said quite solemnly, and with a funny little German -accent, that he thought an 'English Sunday the invention of the deevil,' -which made me laugh. I wonder if it would be wrong to go? I know what -father would say, but somehow, when I come to think over it, I _can't_ -feel horrified at the idea. I can't believe that it is wrong to listen -to such grand, beautiful music--even on Sunday; as Herr von Arnim said, -'I am sure _der liebe Gott_ would rather see you good and happy enjoying -the wonders He has made than bored and bad-tempered, wishing that Sunday -was well over.' What do you think, mother? Let me know soon. I will -not do anything you do not like. - -"P.SSS.--I think we had better keep to our first arrangement that my -letters should be quite private. You see, I tell you everything, and -father might not always understand. - -"P.SSSS.--What a lot of postscripts! I am sure I must be very feminine, -after all. I quite forgot to tell you that Fräulein Müller called the -other day. She was very nervous and flustered, and treats the 'Frau -Baronin' as though she were a sort of deity to be propitiated at all -costs. She also asked me to tea. I went, but I won't go again if I can -help it. I was never so near suffocating in my life. All the windows -were double and had not been opened, I should imagine, since August, so -that the August air was unpleasantly intermingled with the fumes of a -furiously energetic stove, against which I had the honour of sitting for -four mortal hours. But she was so friendly and kind that it seems -horrid to complain, only--Heaven preserve me from being poor and living -in a German flat!" - - -Mrs. Ingestre read the letter carefully. She then tore it up and -answered the same day: - -"As regards your question--do what your conscience tells you, Nora. You -are old enough to judge, and I have perfect confidence in you. Be true -and good, and I too think that God will not blame you if you rule your -life according to the opinions He has given you rather than the -arbitrary laws which we have made. Do what seems honestly right to you -and you cannot do wrong--at least, not in His sight." - -This letter was shown to the Rev. John, her husband, but of the scene -that followed, where righteous indignation and quiet resolve fought out -a bitter struggle, Nora heard nothing. She only knew that the letter -had been safely posted, and that once again her mother had forced open -the doors of liberty. - - - - - *CHAPTER VII* - - *A DUET* - - -"Meine Herrn, to the Moltke of the future, the pride of the regiment, -_er lebe--hoch--hoch--hoch_!" - -The little group of officers gathered round the mess-table responded to -the toast with an enthusiasm that was half bantering, half sincere. -There followed a general clinking of glasses, the pleasant popping of -champagne corks, and a chorus of more or less intelligible -congratulations, against which the recipient stood his ground with -laughing good-nature, his hands spread out before his face as though to -hide natural blushes of embarrassment. - -"Spare me, children!" he explained as the tumult gradually subsided. -"Do you not know that great men are always modest? Your adulation -throws me into the deepest possible confusion, from which I can only -sufficiently extricate myself to promise you----" - -"Another bottle!" a forward young ensign suggested. - -"Not at all," with a wave of the hand, "nothing so basely material--but -my fatherly patronage when I am head of the Staff, as of course I shall -be within a few years. Work hard, my sons, and who knows? One of you -may actually become my adjutant!" - -Amidst derisive laughter he drained his glass, and then turned quickly, -his attention having been arrested by a slight touch upon the shoulder. -Unobserved in the general confusion, a tall, slightly built man, wearing -the uniform of an officer in the Red Dragoons, had entered the mess-room -and, leaning on his sword-hilt in an attitude of weary impatience, had -taken up his place behind the last speaker. He now held out his hand. - -"Congratulate you, Arnim," he said. "I heard the racket outside as I -was passing, and came in for enlightenment as to the cause. Seleneck -has just told me. Permit me to drink your health." He had taken the -glass which a neighbour had proffered him and raised it slightly. "May -you continue as you have begun!" he added. - -"Many thanks," was the brief answer. - -There was a moment's silence. The new-comer sipped at his share of the -German champagne and then put down the glass with a faint contracting of -the features which suggested a smothered grimace. - -"You must let me order up a bottle of Cliquot," he said. "A great -occasion should be worthily celebrated." - -Arnim shook his head. - -"Again--many thanks. I have had enough, and it is of no use cultivating -expensive tastes. But you perhaps...?" - -"If you have no objection." The dragoon beckoned an orderly, and, -having given his instructions, seated himself at the table and drew out -a cigarette-case. - -"This means Berlin for you," he said. "When do your orders date from?" - -"From next summer. I shall still have some months with the regiment." - -"So? That's tiresome. The sooner one gets away from this God-forsaken -hole the better. By the way, there will be quite a little party of us -with you. Seleneck tells me he is expecting a _Kommando_ at the -Turnschule, and I am moving heaven and earth to get ditto. You, lucky -dog, are freed for ever from this treadmill existence." - -The young Artillery captain glanced sharply at the speaker's -good-looking face, and a close observer would have noticed that his -brows had contracted. - -"The way out is open to every one," he observed curtly. - -The other laughed and chose to misunderstand him. - -"Only to the workers, my dear fellow. And I confess that work has no -fascination for me. I am not ambitious enough, and on the whole I -suppose one form of drudgery is as bad as another. You like that sort -of thing, and I envy you, but I fear I have no powers of emulation." - -There was something grim in Arnim's subsequent silence which might have -drawn the dragoon's attention had it been allowed to last. At that -moment, however, an elderly-looking officer detached himself from the -group by the window and came to where the two men were seated. - -"I'm off home," he said. "Are you coming my way, Arnim?" - -Arnim rose with an alacrity which suggested relief. - -"Yes, as far as the Kaiser Strasse. You will excuse me, Bauer? I must -tell the good news at home, or I shall never be forgiven." - -The dragoon bowed. - -"Of course. By the way," he added, as Arnim slipped into the overcoat -which the orderly had brought him, "that is a pretty little English girl -your aunt has picked up. I met her the last time I was at the house. -What's her name?" - -"You are probably referring to Miss Ingestre." - -"Ingestre? Well, she's a pretty little piece of goods, anyhow--though -not particularly friendly." He threw back his head and laughed, as -though at some amusing reminiscence. "Imagine: I had just settled -myself down to a comfortable _tête-à-tête_, when she got up and -bolted--straight out of the room like a young fury. I was rather taken -aback until I consoled myself with the reflection that all English -people are mad--even the pretty ones." - -During his recital a sudden light of comprehension flashed over Arnim's -face. He half smiled, but the smile was indefinably sarcastic. - -"No doubt Miss Ingestre had her good reasons for interrupting your -comfortable _tête-à-tête_," he observed. "Though English people may -suffer from madness, there is usually method in it." - -"No doubt she had her good reasons for her return five minutes later," -was the retort. "There was method in that madness, at any rate." - -The two men looked each other straight in the eyes. Arnim's hand rested -on his sword-hilt, and the smile had died away from his lips. - -"Perhaps I ought to remind you that Miss Ingestre is my aunt's guest, -and therefore under my protection," he said slowly. - -"The reminder is quite unnecessary," the dragoon returned with perfect -sang-froid. "I meant no offence either to you or Miss Ingestre; and -poaching is, anyhow, not one of my vices." - -Arnim hesitated an instant, then, with a curt bow, he slipped his arm -through that of the officer standing beside him. - -"Come, Seleneck," he said, "I have wasted time enough." - -The two men made their way out of the Casino into the street. A sharp -east wind greeted them, and Wolff von Arnim drew a deep breath of -relief. - -"I need fresh air," he said. "A man like Bauer stifles me, sickens me. -I cannot imagine why he always seeks my society. He must know that I -have no liking for him. Does he wish to pick a quarrel?" - -The elder man shook his head. - -"You are a harsh judge, Wolff," he said. "As far as I know, Bauer is a -harmless fellow enough. It is true that he swaggers a good deal with -his money and is rather pushing in circles where he is not wanted, but -for the rest--I have heard nothing to his discredit." - -"That may be," was the quick answer. "There are dishonourable men who -act honourably out of caution, and honourable men who act dishonourably -out of rashness. I do not want to be unjust, but I cannot help putting -Bauer in the former category. My instinct warns me against him--and not -only my instinct. A man who talks about duty as a drudgery and is -content to get through life without success and with as little effort as -possible is a useless drone. In our calling he is worse than that--a -parasite." - -Seleneck sighed. - -"Oh, you ambitious, successful fellows!" he said with a lugubrious tug -at his moustache. "You talk as scornfully of 'getting through life -without success' as though it were a crime. Look at me--grey hairs -already, a family man, and still nothing more than a blundering old -captain, who will be thankful it he is allowed at the end to retire with -a major's pension. _I_ am one of your drones--a parasite, if you like, -and certainly a failure, but Heaven knows it is not my wish." - -"You are no more a failure than the best of us," Wolff von Arnim -answered vigorously. "I know you, _alter Kerl_, and I know you have -given your best strength, your best thought to your calling; I know -'duty' is the Alpha and Omega of your life--no one could ask more of -you." - -"I have done my best," was the simple answer. "It hasn't come to much, -but still, it was my best. You, Wolff, will go much farther." - -They were passing under the light of a street lamp as he spoke, and -Arnim glanced at his companion's face. There was perhaps something -written on the plain yet honest and soldierly features which touched -him, for his own relaxed, and the softened expression made him seem -almost boyish. - -"If I do my duty as well as you have done, I shall be very proud," he -said earnestly. - -They walked on in silence, each absorbed in his own thoughts, and then -Seleneck came to a standstill. - -"Our ways end here," he said. "I suppose you are going to Frau von -Arnim's?" - -"Yes; I must let her know my good luck. She will be very glad." - -"And the little cousin--will she be 'very glad'?" - -Arnim met the quizzical not unkindly glance with an almost imperceptible -change of countenance. - -"I suppose so. Why shouldn't she?" - -"She will miss you." - -Arnim did not answer, nor did he show any sign of continuing on his way. -He seemed suddenly caught in a painful train of thought, from which his -companion made no effort to arouse him. - -"Poor little soul!" he said at last, half to himself. "It is terribly -hard luck on her. No one loved life as she did, and now"--his brows -contracted--"sometimes I feel as though I were to blame," he added -abruptly. - -"What nonsense!" Seleneck retorted. "Are you responsible because a -horse shies and a girl has the misfortune to be thrown?" - -"Perhaps not; but the feeling of responsibility is not so easily shaken -off. I never see her--or her mother--without cursing the impulse that -made me take her out that day." - -"It might just as well have happened any other day and with any one -else," Seleneck retorted cold-bloodedly. - -"Of course. Only one cannot reason like that with one's conscience. At -any rate, there is nothing I would not do to make her happy--to atone to -her. Besides," he added hastily, as though he had said something he -regretted, "I am very fond of her." - -The elder man tapped him on the shoulder. - -"_Alter Junge_," he said pointedly, "I can trust your career to your -brains, but I am not so sure that I can trust your life to your heart. -Take care that you do not end up as Field-Marshal with Disappointment as -your adjutant. _Lebewohl_." - -With an abrupt salute he turned and strode off into the gathering -twilight, leaving Arnim to put what interpretation he chose to the -warning. That the warning had not been without effect was clear. Arnim -went up the steps of the square-built house with a slowness that -suggested reluctance, and the features beneath the dark-blue cap, -hitherto alight with energy and enthusiasm, had suddenly become graver -and older. - -He found Frau von Arnim in her private sitting-room, writing letters. -She turned with a pleased smile as he entered, and held out a hand which -he kissed affectionately. The bond between them was indeed an unusually -close one, and dated from Wolff's first boyhood, when as a pathetically -small cadet he had wept long-controlled and bitter tears on her kind -shoulder and confided to her all the wrongs with which his elder -comrades darkened his life. From that time he had been a constant -Sunday guest at her table, had been Hildegarde's playfellow throughout -the long Sunday afternoons, and had returned to the grim Cadettenhaus at -nightfall laden with contraband of the sort dearest to a boy's heart. -Afterwards, as ensign and young lieutenant, he had still looked up to -her with the old confidence, and to this very hour there had been no -passage in his life, wise or foolish, of which she was not cognisant. -She had been mother, father, and comrade to him, and it was more by -instinct than from any sense of duty that he had come to her first with -his good news. - -"I have been appointed to the Staff in Berlin," he said. "The order -arrived this afternoon. It's all a step in the right direction, isn't -it? At any rate, I shall be out of the routine and able to do head-work -to my heart's--I mean head's content." - -Frau von Arnim laughed and pressed the strong hand which still held -hers. - -"It is splendid, Wolff," she said. "I knew that the day would come when -we should be proud of _unsren Junge_. Who knows? Perhaps as an old, -old woman I shall be able to hobble along on a stately General's -arm--that is, of course, if he will be seen with such an old wreck. -But"--her face overshadowed somewhat--"when shall we have to part with -you?" - -"Not for some months," he said, seating himself beside her, "and then I -think you had better pack up your goods and chattels and come too. I -shall never be able to exist without you to keep me in order and -Hildegarde to cheer me up." - -"I have never noticed that you wanted much keeping in order," Frau von -Arnim said with a grave smile. "And as for the other matter, it is to -you that Hildegarde owes much of her cheeriness. She will miss you -terribly." - -A silence fell between them which neither noticed, though it lasted some -minutes. Overhead some one began to play the "Liebeslied" from the -_Walküre_. - -Wolff looked up and found that his aunt's eyes were fixed on him. - -"Hildegarde?" he asked, and for the first time he felt conscious of a -lack of candour. - -Frau von Arnim shook her head. - -"Poor Hildegarde never plays," she reminded him gently. "It is -Nora--Miss Ingestre. You remember her?" - -"Yes," he said slowly. "She is not easily forgotten." After a moment's -hesitation he added, "I never knew English people could be so charming. -Those I have met on my travels have either been badly mannered boors or -arrogant pokers. Miss Ingestre is either an exception or a revelation." - -The room was in part darkness, as Frau von Arnim loved it best. A small -lamp burned on her table, and by its light she could study his face -unobserved. - -"She has won all hearts--even to the coachman, who has a prejudice -against foreigners," she said in a lighter tone, "and Hildegarde has -become another person since her arrival. I do not know what we should -do without her. When she first came she was, of course, baked in her -insular prejudices, but she is so open-minded and broad-hearted that -they have fallen away almost miraculously. We have not had to -suffer--as is so often the case--from volleys of Anglo-Saxon -criticisms." - -"She seems musical, too," Wolff said, who was still listening with close -attention to the unseen player. - -"She is musical; so much so that I am having her properly trained at the -Conservatorium," his aunt answered with enthusiasm. "When she has got -out of certain English mannerisms she will do well. It is already a -delight to listen to her." - -A tide of warm colour darkened Wolff's face as he glanced quickly at -Frau von Arnim's profile. - -"I wonder what little pleasure--or perhaps necessity--you have denied -yourself to perform that act of kindness?" he said. - -"Neither the one nor the other, _lieber Junge_. If I deny myself one -pleasure to give myself another, it can hardly be counted as a denial, -can it? Besides, I believe her people are very badly off, and it is a -shame that her talent should suffer for it. There! I am sure you want -to go upstairs. Run along, and let me write my letters." - -Wolff laughed at the old command, which dated back to the time when he -had worried her with his boy's escapades. - -"I'll just glance in and tell Hildegarde my good luck," he said, a -little awkwardly. "I promised her I would let her know as soon as the -news came." - -"Do, dear Wolff." - -She turned back to her letters, and Arnim, taking advantage of her -permission, hurried out of the room and upstairs. - -Hildegarde's little boudoir was an inner room, divided off from the -neighbouring apartment by a heavy Liberty curtain. Governed by he knew -not what instinct or desire, he stepped softly across and, drawing the -hangings a little on one side, remained a quiet, unobserved spectator of -the peaceful scene. - -Nora had left the _Walküre_ and had plunged into the first act of -_Tristan und Isolde_. She played it with inexperience and after her own -ideas, which were perhaps not the most correct, but the face alone, with -its youth, its eagerness, its enthusiasm, must have disarmed the most -captious critic. And Wolff von Arnim was by no means captious at that -moment. Though he was listening, he hardly realised what she was -playing, too absorbed in the pure pleasure which the whole picture gave -him to think of details. He knew, for instance, that her dress was -simple and pretty, but he could not tell afterwards whether it was blue -or green or pink, or of no colour at all; he knew that he had never -before found so much charm in a woman's face, but he would have been -hard put to to describe exactly wherein that charm lay, or whether her -features were regular or otherwise. He simply received an -impression--one that he found difficult to forget. - -A lamp had been placed on the top of the piano, and by its light the -bright, wide-open eyes and eager fingers were finding their way through -the difficult score. The rest of the room had been left in shadow. -Arnim knew where his cousin was lying, but he did not look in her -direction--perhaps he did not even think of her, so far did she lie -outside the picture on which his whole interest was centred; and when -the music died into silence, her voice startled him by its very -unexpectedness. - -"Wolff, won't you come in now?" she said. - -Was there pain or annoyance in her tone? Arnim could not be certain. -The knowledge that she had seen him standing there was sufficiently -disconcerting. When we are unobserved, we unconsciously drop the masks -which the instinct of self-preservation forces us to assume in the -presence even of our dearest, and our faces betray emotions or thoughts -which we have, perhaps, not even acknowledged to ourselves. As he -advanced into the room, Arnim wondered uncomfortably how much the -invalid's quick eyes had seen and if there was, indeed, anything in his -looks or action which could have wounded her. - -"You must think my manners very bad," he said in English as he greeted -Nora, "but I knew if I came in you would stop playing, and that would -have disappointed me and annoyed Hildegarde. You see, I know my -cousin's little foibles, and one is that she does not like being -interrupted in anything. Is that not so, Hildegarde?" - -"You are a privileged person," she answered with a gentle smile on her -pale face. "Still, I am glad you let Nora--Miss Ingestre--finish. She -plays well, don't you think?" - -"Splendidly--considering," was the answer. - -Nora looked up. - -"Considering? That sounds a doubtful compliment." - -"I mean, English people as a rule have not much understanding for -dramatic music." - -"Yes, they have!" Nora blazed out impulsively. - -"Have they?" - -Still seething with injured patriotism, she met the laughter in his eyes -with defiance. Then her sense of humour got the better of her. - -"No, they haven't," she admitted frankly. - -"There, now you are honest! Have you tried _Tristan_ for the first -time?" - -Nora nodded. She had gone back to the piano and was turning over the -leaves of the score with nervous fingers. For some reason which she -never attempted to fathom, Wolff von Arnim's entries into her life, -seldom and fleeting as they had been hitherto, had always brought with -them a subtle, indescribable change in herself and in her surroundings. -There were times when she was almost afraid of him and welcomed his -departure. Then, again, when he was gone she was sorry that she had -been so foolish, and looked forward to their next meeting. - -"I have tried to read the first act before," she said, "but it is so -hard. I can make so little out of it. I am sure it all sounds poor and -confused compared to the real thing." - -"Your piano score is inadequate," he said, coming to her side. "The -duet arrangement is much better. Hildegarde and I used to play it -together for hours." - -Nora looked at him with wide-open eyes of wonder. - -"Can you play?" she asked, very much as though he had boasted of his -flying abilities, so that he laughed with boyish amusement. - -"I play like a great many of us do," he said, "sufficiently well to -amuse myself. I have a piano in my quarters which I ill-treat at -regular intervals. Do you remember how angry you used to get because I -thumped so?" - -He had turned to the girl lying on the sofa, but she avoided his frank -gaze. - -"Yes," she said. "It is not so long ago, Wolff." And then, almost as -though she were afraid of having betrayed some deeper feeling, she added -quickly, "Couldn't you two try over the old duets together? I should so -like to hear them, and I am too tired to talk." - -"Would you like to, Miss Ingestre?" - -"Very much--only you will find me dreadfully slow and stupid." - -He hunted amongst an old bundle of music, and having found the required -piece, he arranged it on the piano and prepared himself for the task -with great gravity. - -"You must let me have the bass," he said; "then I can thump without -being so much noticed. I have a decided military touch. Hildegarde -says I treat the notes as though they were recruits." - -Nora played her part without nervousness, at first because she was -convinced of her own superiority and afterwards because he inspired her. -His guidance was sure and firm, and when he corrected, it was not as a -master but as a comrade seeking to give advice as to a common task. Her -shyness and uneasiness with him passed away. Every bar seemed to make -him less of a stranger, and once in a long rest she found herself -watching the powerful, carefully kept hands on the keyboard with a -curious pleasure, as though they typified the man himself--strong, -clean, and honest. - -Thus they played through the whole of the first act, and when the last -chord had been struck there was a long silence. It was as though both -were listening to the echo of all that had gone before, and it was with -an effort that Nora roused herself to speak. - -"How well you play!" she said under her breath. "And how grand--how -wonderful it is!" - -He turned and looked at her. - -"Did you understand it?" - -"Not all. I feel that there are many more wonders to fathom which are -yet too deep for me. But I understand enough to know that they are -there--and to be glad." - -"It is the noblest--most perfect expression of love and of the human -heart that was ever written or composed," he said. - -She looked up at him, and their eyes met gravely and steadily for a -moment, in which the world was forgotten. - -"Thank you very much," a quiet voice said from the background. - -Arnim turned quickly, so quickly that it was almost a start. - -"Now for your criticism, Hildegarde!" he cried gaily. "I assure you, we -are both trembling." - -Hildegarde shook her head. - -"I cannot criticise," she said. "You played so well together, much -better than when I was able to take my part." She hesitated. "One -could hardly believe that you had never practised together before," she -added slowly. - -Nora rose and closed the piano. Without knowing why, the words pained -her and the brief silence that followed seemed oppressive. - -Arnim followed her example. - -"I have been here a disgraceful time!" he exclaimed, looking at his -watch. "And there! I have never even told you what I really came -about. I have been passed into the General Staff. What do you think of -that? Are you not proud to have such a cousin?" - -His tone was gay, half teasing, but there was no response from the quiet -figure on the sofa. Nora's eyes, rendered suddenly sharp, saw that the -pale lips were compressed as though in pain. - -"Of course, Wolff, I am so glad. It is splendid for you. How long will -you be there--in Berlin, I mean?" - -"A long time, I expect, unless there is a war." - -Then, as though by some intuition he knew what was passing in her mind, -he came to her side and took her hand affectionately between his own. - -"You and the mother will have to come too," he said. "I have just been -telling her that I cannot get on without you. Imagine my lonely state! -It's bad enough here, now that I have no one to ride out with me. Old -Bruno is eating off his head in anticipation of the day when you will -gallop him through the woods again." - -Hildegarde shook her head, but his words, spoken hastily and almost at -random, had brought the soft colour to her cheeks. - -"I shall never ride again," she said. - -She looked at her cousin and then to Nora, and her own wistful face -became suddenly overshadowed. - -"But then," she went on with a quick, almost inaudible sigh, "that is no -reason why Bruno should eat his head off, as you say. It is true I -cannot ride him any more, but Miss Ingestre can, and it would do her -good. Wouldn't it, Nora?" - -Was there an appeal in her voice which both heard and understood? Arnim -said nothing. He did not take his eyes from his cousin's face. - -"It is really very good of you," Nora said quickly, "but I think I had -better not. You see, I love it so, and it is best not to encourage -impossible tastes. Besides, I have no habit." - -Warned, perhaps, by her own involuntary start of pleasure, by Arnim's -silence and Hildegarde's voice, she had sought wildly for any reasonable -excuse, and unwittingly chosen the one most likely to arouse the -generous impulses in both her companions. - -"Whilst you are here you must enjoy everything you can get," Arnim said, -smiling at her. "And who knows what Fate has in store for you?" - -"And the habit is no difficulty," Hildegarde chimed in. "You can have -mine. We are about the same size, and it could easily be made to fit -you. Do, dear!" - -She was now all enthusiasm for her own plan, and Nora, glancing at -Arnim's face, saw that it had become eager with pleasure. - -"Do!" he begged. "I should so like to show you all the woods about -here. Or--can you not trust yourself to me?" - -A second time their eyes met. - -"Of course I should trust you," Nora said quickly, "and there is nothing -I should love more." - -"Then that is settled. You must let me know the first day which suits -you. Good-bye, _gnädiges Fräulein_. Good-bye, Hildegarde. I am sending -my orderly round with some books I have found. I think you will like -them." - -"Thank you, Wolff." - -Then he was gone. They heard the door bang downstairs, and the cheery -clatter of his sword upon the stone steps. - -Nora came to the sofa and knelt down. - -"How good you are to me!" she said. "You are always thinking of my -pleasure, of things which you know I like, and, after all, it ought to -be just the other way round." - -"I am very fond of you," Hildegarde answered in a low voice. "Though I -know you so short a time, you are the only friend I really care for. It -made me bitter to see other girls enjoy their life--but you are -different. I don't think I should grudge you--anything." - -Her voice broke suddenly. She turned her face to the wall, and there -was a long silence. Nora still knelt by the sofa. Her eyes were fixed -thoughtfully in front of her, and there was an expression on her young -face of wonder, almost of fear. Something new had come into her life. -There was a change in herself of which she was vaguely conscious. What -was it? What had brought it? Was it possible that in a mere glance -something had passed out of her, something been received? She sprang -restlessly to her feet, and as she did so a smothered, shaken sob broke -upon the stillness. In an instant she had forgotten herself and her own -troubled thoughts. She bent over the quivering figure and tried to draw -away the hands that hid the tear-stained face. - -"Hildegarde--you are crying? What is it? What have I done?" - -"Nothing--nothing. It is only--I am so silly and weak--and the -music----" She broke off and looked up into Nora's face with a -pathetic, twisted smile. And then, seeming to yield to a passionate -impulse, she flung her thin arms about her companion's neck. "Oh, Nora, -you are so pretty and good! Every one _must_ love you--and I love you -so!" - -The words were an appeal, a confession, a cry breaking from an -over-burdened heart. Nora drew the fair head against her shoulder, -pitying and comforting a grief which she as yet but partly understood. - - - - - *CHAPTER VIII* - - *THE AWAKENING* - - -Frau von Arnim sat at the round breakfast-table before a pile of open -letters, which she took in turn, considered, and laid aside. Her -expression was grave, and in the full morning light which poured in -through the window opposite she looked older, wearier than even those -who knew her best would have thought possible. The world of Karlsburg -was accustomed to regard the Oberhofmarshall's widow as a woman of whom -it would be safe to prophesy, "Age shall not wither her," for, as far as -her envious contemporaries could see, the years had drifted past and -brought no change to the serene, proud face. Perhaps they would have -admitted, on reflection, that their memories could not reach back to the -time when Frau von Arnim had been a girl--that, as far as they knew, she -had always been the same, always serene and proud, never youthful in the -true sense of the word. And therein lay the paradoxical explanation for -what was called her "eternal youth." Magda von Arnim had never been -really young. The storms had broken too early on her life and had -frozen the overflowing spirits of her girlhood into strength of reserve, -patience, and dignity. But she had not allowed them to embitter the -sources of her humanity, and thus she retained in her later years what -is best in youth--generosity, sympathy, a warm and understanding heart. - -Frau von Arnim put aside her last letter, and with her fine white hand -shading her eyes remained in an attitude of deep thought, until the door -of the breakfast-room opened. - -"Hildegarde!" she exclaimed, and then, quickly, painfully, "Why, how -stupid of me! It is Nora, of course. Good morning, dear child. I must -have been indulging in what you call a day-dream, for when you came in I -thought it was really poor little Hildegarde grown well and strong -again." She held Nora at arm's length. "I do not think the resemblance -will ever cease to startle me. The riding-habit makes you look so -alike--though really you are quite, quite different." - -She tried to laugh, but the hurried tone, the sudden colour that had -rushed to the usually pale cheeks betrayed to Nora the painful -impression she had caused. They hurried her to a decision that had -already presented itself to her before as something inevitable, -something she must do if she were to be just and loyal. Time after time -she had shrunk back as before some hard sacrifice, and now she felt she -could shrink back no longer. - -"_Gnädige Frau_, I wanted to tell you--if you don't mind, I will give up -the riding. After to-day I don't think I will go again. I think it -better not." - -"But--why?" - -It was now Nora's turn to crimson with embarrassment. She was herself -hardly clear as to her reasons. The night before she had played the -second act of _Tristan und Isolde_ with Wolff von Arnim, and when it was -at an end they had found Hildegarde lying in a sleep from which they -could not at first awaken her, so close was it allied to another and -graver state. And Wolff von Arnim had had a strange misery in his eyes. -Such was the only explanation she knew of. She knew, too, that she -could not give it. Nevertheless, she held her ground desperately. - -"Because I believe it hurts you, and if not you, at least Hildegarde," -she said at last. "She cries sometimes when she thinks I shall not find -out, and though she never owns to it, I know it is because I enjoy -things she used to have and cannot have. And, besides, it isn't fair, -it isn't right. You have both been so good to me. You have treated me -just as though I were a daughter of the house, and I have done nothing -to deserve it. I have only caused Hildegarde pain, and that is what I -do not want to do." - -Frau von Arnim took her by the hand and drew her closer. A faint, -rather whimsical smile played about the fine mouth. - -"Dear Nora, the fact that you are the daughter of the house proves that -you deserve the best we can give you. Neither Hildegarde nor I are -given to adopting relations promiscuously. And as for the other matter, -anybody suffering as Hildegarde does is bound to have her moments of -bitterness and regret--perhaps envy. Thank God they are not many. In -the first months I have known the sight of a child playing in the street -bring the tears to her eyes, and it is only natural that you, with your -health and strength, should remind her of what she has lost. And there -is another thing"--her manner became grave, almost emphatic--"a useless -sacrifice is no sacrifice at all; it is simply flying in the face of a -Providence who has given to one happiness, another sorrow. It will not -make Hildegarde happy if you stay at home--on the contrary, she will -blame herself--and you will deprive my nephew of a pleasure. There! -After that little lecture you must have your breakfast and read your -letters. You have only half an hour before you start, and my nephew -suffers from military punctuality in its most aggravated form." - -Nora obediently made a pretence of partaking of the frugal rolls and -coffee. As a matter of fact, the prospect before her, but above all the -two letters lying on her plate, had successfully driven away her -appetite. The one envelope was addressed in her father's spider-like -hand, the other writing set her heart beating with uneasiness. At the -first opportunity she opened her father's bulky envelope and hurried -over its contents. Sandwiched in between rhetorical outbursts of solemn -advice, she extracted the facts that her mother was unusually out of -health, that he was consequently distracted with worry and over-burdened -with work, that Miles had obtained sick-leave and was enjoying a long -rest in the bosom of the family, that the neighbours, Mrs. Clerk in -particular, were both surprised and shocked at her, Nora's, continued -absence. "Home is not home without you," the Rev. John had written -pathetically. Then at the end of the letter had come the sting. There -was a certain paragraph which Nora read twice over with heightened -colour and a pained line between the brows. - -"Dear child, you tell me that you are going out riding with a certain -Herr von Arnim, your protectress's nephew. Apart from the fact that an -indulgence in pleasure which your family can no longer afford seems to -me in itself unfitting, I feel that there is more besides in the matter -to cause me grave anxiety on your behalf. Herr von Arnim's name occurs -constantly in your letters; he appears to use his musical talent as an -excuse to pay you constant attention; you meet him at the theatre--which -place, I must say in passing, you attend with what I fear must be a -wholly demoralising frequency; he lends you books, he instructs you in -the German language. Now, my dear child, I myself have never met a -German officer, but from various accounts I understand that they are men -of a disorderly mode of life who would not hesitate to compromise a -young, inexperienced girl. Knowing, of course, that your affections do -not come into question as regards a foreigner, I warn you not to allow -yourself to become this man's plaything. As his aunt's dependent, he -may no doubt think that you are fit game for his amusement. Remember -that you are an English girl, and show him that as such you are too -proud to play a degrading rôle, and that you will have none of his -attentions. Ah, Nora, I would that I were with you to watch over you! -Oh that you were in a certain good man's keeping!" - -Nora dropped the letter. Her cheeks burned with indignation. It was in -this light, then, that her father judged Wolff von Arnim's grave, almost -formal, courtesy, their innocent, straightforward friendship together! -And yet, beneath the indignation, new fears and doubts stirred to life. -She did not attempt to analyse them. Impatiently, as though seeking to -escape from all self-interrogation, she picked up the second letter and -tore it open. It was from Arnold. Like the man, the handwriting was -bold and clear, the sentences abrupt, sincere, and unpolished. In a few -lines he thanked her for her last letter, outlined the small events of -his own life. He then plunged into the immediate future. - -"Unexpectedly, I have been granted a year's leave to travel in Central -Africa," he had written. "You can understand that I shall be only too -glad to get out of England and to have some active work outside the -usual military grind. I leave Southampton in two days' time, so that -you will not have time to answer this. In any case, I do not want you -to hurry. I reach Aden on the 10th. That will give you time to -consider what I am going to say. Hitherto I have been silent as to the -matter that lies nearest my heart, but now I am going so far from you I -must speak, Nora. I believe that one day you will become my wife. I -believe that it is so destined, and I believe you know it as well as I -do. Our parting at Victoria convinced me, or at least it gave me the -greatest possible hope. I believe that if I had jumped into the -carriage beside you and taken you in my arms, you would have yielded. I -was a fool to have hesitated, but perhaps it is best that you should -decide in cold blood. You know what I have to offer you--an honest, -clean devotion, not the growth of a moment's passion, but of years. I -know you and I love and understand you--even to your faults. You know -me, and whether you love me or not, you at least know that I am a man -who never changes, who will be twenty years hence what he is to-day. Is -this to be despised? Is not reciprocal trust and understanding worth -more than a shortlived passion? Nora, do not count it against me if I -cannot write to you eloquently, if I am poor in all the outward -elegancies of speech and manner. I have no metaphors to describe my -love to you; no doubt I shall always fail in those graceful nothings -which you seem to appreciate so much. I can only speak and act as a -straightforward Englishman who offers a woman his honest love. For the -second--but not the last time, if needs must be--will you be my wife? -Consider well, dearest, and if you can, let me go into my exile with the -blessed knowledge that in a short time--for I shall not wait a year--I -may come and fetch you home. Nora..." - -Hoofs clattered impatiently in the street outside. The Arnims' little -maid opened the door and grinned with mysterious friendliness. - -"_Der Herr Hauptmann ist unten und wartet_," she said. "_Gnädiges -Fräulein mochten sofort kommen!_" - -She spoke in a tone of command which her intense respect for "_den Herrn -Hauptmann_" more than justified. Was not her "Schatz" in the Herr -Hauptmann's battery, and did not he say every Sunday, when they walked -out together, that the whole Army did not contain a finer officer or a -more "_famoser Kerl_"? - -"_Ich komme gleich_," Nora answered. She thrust the half-read letter -into the pocket of her loose-fitting coat and ran downstairs. All the -way she was thinking of Robert Arnold with a strange mingling of -affection and pity. She thought how good and honest he was, and of the -life of a woman who entrusted herself to his care--and then abruptly he -passed out of her mind like a shadow dispersed by a broad, full ray of -sunshine. Wolff von Arnim stood in the hall. His face was lifted to -greet her, his hand outstretched. She took it. She tried to say -something banal, something that would have broken the spell that had -fallen upon her. Her lips refused to frame the words, and he too did -not speak. Side by side they went out into the cold morning air. The -orderly stood waiting with the two horses. Arnim motioned him on one -side, and with sure strength and gentleness lifted Nora into the saddle. - -"Are you comfortable?" he asked; and then, with a sudden change of tone, -"Why, what is the matter? Did I hurt you? You are so pale." - -Nora shook her head. - -"It is nothing--nothing. I am quite all right. I lost my breath--that -is all. You lifted me as though I were a mere feather." - -She tried to laugh, but instead bit her lip and looked down into his -face with a curious bewilderment. He had not hurt her, and yet some -sensation that was near akin to pain had passed like an electric current -right to the centre of her being. - -"I am quite all right," she said again, and nodded as though to reassure -him. "Please do not be so alarmed." - -To herself she thought, "What is the matter with me? What has -happened?" - -These were the questions she asked herself incessantly as they walked -their horses through the empty streets. She found no answer. -Everything in her that had hitherto been was no more. All the old -landmarks in her character, her confidence, her courage, her -inexhaustible fund of life were gone, leaving behind them a revolution -of unknown emotions whose sudden upheaval she could neither explain nor -control. Her world had changed, but as yet it was a chaos where she -could find no firm land, no sure place of refuge. - -They left the town behind them and walked their horses through the long -_allées_ of stately trees. Almost without their knowledge their -conversation, broken and curiously strained as it was, dropped into -silence. The deadened thud of their horses' hoofs upon the soft turf was -the only sound that broke the morning stillness, and the mists hanging -low upon the earth, as yet undisturbed by the rising winter sun, -intensified the almost ghostly forest loneliness. It was a loneliness -that pierced like a cold wind through Nora's troubled soul. Though they -had ridden the same way before, at the same hour, surrounded by the same -grey shadows, she had never felt as she felt now--that they, alone of -the whole world, were alive and that they were together. The clang of -the park gates behind them had been like a voice whose warning, jarring -tones echoed after them in the stillness, "Now you are alone--now you -are alone!" What was there in this loneliness and silence? Why did it -suffocate, oppress her so that she would have been thankful if a sudden -breeze had stirred the fallen leaves to sound and apparent life? Why -had she herself no power to break the silence with her own voice? She -glanced quickly at the man beside her. Did he also feel something of -what she was experiencing that he had become so silent? Usually a -fresh, vigorous gaiety had laughed out of his eyes to meet her. To-day -he did not seem to know that she had looked at him, or even that she was -there. His gaze was set resolutely ahead, his lips beneath the short -fair moustache were compressed in stern, thoughtful lines which changed -the whole character of his face, making him older, graver. Believing -herself unobserved, even forgotten, Nora did not look away. She saw -Arnim in a new light, as the worker, the soldier, the man of action and -iron purpose. Every line of the broad-shouldered figure in the grey -_Litewka_ suggested power and energy, and the features, thrown into -shadow by his officer's cap, were stamped with the same virile -characteristics translated into intellect and will. - -"What a man you are!" was the thought that flashed through Nora's mind, -and even in that moment he turned towards her. - -"It seems we are not the only ones out this morning," he said quietly. -"There is a rider coming towards us--Bauer, if I am not mistaken. Let -us draw a little on one side." - -She followed his guidance, at the same time looking in the direction -which he had indicated. The mists were thinning, and she caught the -flash of a pale-blue uniform, and a moment later recognised the man -himself. - -"Yes, it is Lieutenant Bauer," she said. - -The new-comer drew in his horse to a walk and passed them at the salute. -Nora caught a glimpse of his face and saw there was an expression of -cynical amusement which aroused in her all the old instinctive aversion. -She stiffened in her saddle and the angry blood rushed to her cheeks. - -"I am glad he is not in your regiment," she said impulsively. - -"Why, Miss Ingestre?" - -"Because I dislike him," she answered. - -He did not smile at her blunt reasoning--rather, the unusual gravity in -his eyes deepened. - -"I have no right to criticise a comrade," he said; "only I want you to -remember that in a great army such as ours there must always be -exceptions, men who have forced their way for the sake of -position--idlers, cads, and nonentities. There are not many, thank God, -and they are soon weeded out, but I want you to believe that they are -the exceptions." - -"I do believe it," she said gently. - -"Thank you." He waited a moment and then added, "It is a great deal to -me that you should think well of us." - -"I could not well do otherwise," she answered. - -"I am a foreigner." The simple pronoun betrayed him, but Nora did not -notice the change. She was gazing ahead, her brows knitted. - -"That does not seem to make much difference," she said. "I used to -think it would--only a few weeks ago. I must have been very young then. -I am very young now, but not so young. One can learn more in an hour -than in a lifetime." - -"It all depends on the hour," he said, smiling. - -"No--I think each hour has the same possibilities. It all depends on -oneself. If one has opened one's heart----" She left the sentence -unfinished, her thoughts reverting suddenly to her mother, and for a -moment the man beside her was forgotten. But not for more than a -moment. Then, with a shock, the consciousness of his presence aroused -her, and she looked up at him. It was only his profile which she saw, -but some subtle change in the bold outline and a still subtler change in -herself quickened the beating of her heart. As once before that -morning, she suffered an inexplicable thrill of pain and wondered at -herself and at the silence again closing in about them. It was a -silence which had its source more in themselves than in their -surrounding world, for when the thud of galloping hoofs broke through -the deadening wall of mist they did not hear it, or heard it -unconsciously and without recognition. Only when it grew to a -threatening thunder did it arouse Arnim from his lethargy. He turned in -his saddle, and the next instant caught Nora's horse sharply to one -side. - -"It is Bauer again!" he said. "Take care!" He had acted not an instant -too soon. The shadow which he had seen growing out against the grey -wall behind them became sharply outlined, and like a whirlwind swept -past them, escaping the haunch of Nora's horse by a hair's-breadth. The -frightened animal shied, wrenching the reins from Arnim's grasp, and -swerved across the narrow roadway. Whether she lost her nerve or whether -in that moment she did not care Nora could not have said. The horse -broke into a gallop, and she made no effort to check its dangerous -speed. The rapid, exhilarating motion lifted her out of herself, the -fresh, keen air stung colour to her cheeks and awoke in her a flash of -her old fearless life. - -"_Ruhe! Ruhe!_" she heard a voice say in her ear. "_Ruhe!_" - -But she paid no heed to the warning. Quiet! That was what she most -feared. It was from that ominous silence she was flying, and from the -moment when it would reveal the mystery of her own heart. Rather than -that silence, that revelation, better to gallop on and on until -exhaustion numbed sensibility, hushed every stirring, unfathomed desire -into a torpor of indifference! She felt at first no fear. The power to -check her wild course had long since passed out of her hands, but she -neither knew nor cared. She saw the forest rush by in a blurred, -bewildering mist, and far behind heard the muffled thunder of horse's -hoofs in hot pursuit. But she saw and heard as in some fantastic dream -whose end lay in the weaving hands of an implacable Destiny. In that -same dream a shadow crept up to her side, drew nearer till they were -abreast; a grip of iron fell upon her bridle hand. Then for the first -time she awoke and understood. And with understanding came fear. Her -own grip upon the straining reins relaxed. She reeled weakly in the -saddle, thinking, "This is indeed the end." But the shock for which she -dimly waited did not come. Instead, miraculously supported, she saw the -mists clear and trees and earth and sky slip back to their places before -her eyes. The world, which for one moment had seemed to be rushing to -its destruction, stood motionless, and Nora found herself in the saddle, -held there by the strength she would have recognised, so it seemed to -her, even if it had caught her up out of the midst of death. Arnim's -face was bent close to hers, and its expression filled her with pity and -a joy wonderful and inexplicable. - -"_Wie haben Sie mir das anthun können?_" he stammered, and then, in -broken, passionate English, "How could you? If anything had -happened--do you not know what it would have meant to me?" With a hard -effort he regained his self-possession and let her go. "You frightened -me terribly," he said. "I--I am sorry." - -"You have saved my life," she answered. "It is I who have to be -sorry--that I frightened you." - -She was smiling with a calm strangely in contrast to his painful but -half-mastered agitation. The suspense of the last minutes was still -visible in his white face, and the hand which he raised mechanically to -his cap shook. - -"It was Bauer's fault," he said. "He rode like a madman. I shall call -him to account. We seem fated to cross each other." - -"Then why call him to account--since it is Fate? After all, nothing has -happened." - -Had, indeed, nothing happened? She avoided his eyes, and the colour -died from her cheeks. - -"Let us go home," he said abruptly. - -They walked their panting horses back the way they had come. As before, -neither spoke. To all appearances nothing had changed between them, and -yet the change was there. The sunlight had broken through the mists, -the oppressive silence was gone, and life stirred in the long grasses, -peered with wondering, timid eyes from amidst the shadows, where deer -and squirrel and all the peaceful forest world watched and waited until -the intruders had passed on and left them to their quiet. And in Nora's -heart also the sun had risen. The chaos had resolved itself into calm; -and though so long as the man with the pale, troubled face rode at her -side she could give no account even to herself of the mysterious -happiness which had come so suddenly and so strangely, she was yet -content to wait and enjoy her present peace without question. - -Thus they passed out of the gates and through the busy streets, Arnim -riding close to her side, as though to shield her from every possible -danger. But the silence between them remained unbroken. It was the -strangest thing of all that, though throughout they had scarcely spoken, -more had passed between them than in all the hours of the gay and -serious comradeship they had spent together. - -At the door of the Arnims' house Wolff dismounted and helped Nora to the -ground. And as they stood for a moment hand in hand, he looked at her -for the first time full in the eyes. - -"I cannot thank God enough that you are safe," he said. - -She heard in his low voice the last vibrations of the storm, and the -thought that it was _her_ danger which had shaken this man from his -strong self-control overwhelmed her so that she could bring no answer -over her lips. She turned and ran into the house, into her own room, -where she stood with her hands clasped before her burning face, -triumphant, intoxicated, swept away on a whirlwind of unmeasured -happiness. - -It is the privilege--the greatest privilege perhaps--of youth to be -swept away on whirlwinds beyond the reach of doubt and fear, and Nora -was very young. Over the new world which had risen like an island -paradise out of the chaos of the old, she saw a light spread out in -ever-widening circles till it enveloped her whole life. For Nora the -child was dead, the woman in her had awakened because she loved for the -first time and knew that she was loved. - -It was a moment of supreme happiness, and, as such moments needs must be -if our poor mortal hearts are to be kept working, shortlived. Even as -her eager, listening ears caught the last echo of horses' hoofs outside, -some one knocked at the door. - -"Fräulein Nora, please come at once," a servant's voice called. "The -Fräulein Hildegarde has been taken very ill, and she is asking for you." - -"I am coming," Nora answered mechanically. - -Her hands had fallen to her side. The whirlwind had dropped her, as is -the way with whirlwinds, and she stood there pale and for the moment -paralysed by the shock and an undefined foreboding. - - - - - *CHAPTER IX* - - *RENUNCIATION* - - -Frau von Arnim was waiting at the door of Hildegarde's bedroom. In the -half-light Nora saw only the dim outline of the usually grave and -composed face, but the hand that took hers betrayed more than the -brightest searchlight could have done. It was icy cold, steady, but -with something desperate in its clasp. - -"Nora, are you accustomed to people who are very ill?" - -"My mother is often ill," Nora answered, and the fear at her heart -seemed to pass into her very blood. "But surely Hildegarde--it is not -serious?" - -Frau von Arnim shook her head. - -"I do not know," she said. "She fainted suddenly, and since then she -has been in a feverish state which I do not understand. Poor little -Hildegarde!" - -She spoke half to herself, quietly, almost coldly. Only Nora, strung to -that pitch of sensitiveness where the very atmosphere seems to vibrate -in sympathy, knew all the stifled pain, the infinite mother-tenderness -which the elder woman cloaked behind a stern reserve. And because the -best of human hearts is a complicated thing answering at once to a dozen -cross-influences, Nora's pity was intensified by the swift realisation -that even her wonderful new happiness might be struck down in an hour, a -minute, as this woman's had been. - -"Let me look after her," she pleaded. "I can be such a good nurse. I -understand illness--and I love Hildegarde." - -Something like a smile relaxed Frau von Arnim's set features. The words -had been so girlish in their enthusiasm and self-confidence. - -"I know," she said, "and Hildegarde loves you. She has been asking after -you ever since she recovered consciousness. Let us go in." - -She opened the door softly and led the way into the silent room. The -blinds had been drawn down, and the great four-posted bed loomed up grim -and immense at the far end, seeming to swallow up the frail, motionless -figure in its shadow. - -Nora tiptoed across the heavy carpet. - -"Hildegarde," she whispered, "are you better?" - -The closed eyes opened full and looked at her. - -"Yes, I am better. It is nothing. I fainted--only a little time after -you had gone--and since then I have not been well." She stopped, her -gaze, curiously intense and steadfast, still fixed on Nora's face. Her -sentences had come in jerks in a rough, dry voice. She now stretched out -her hand and caught Nora's arm. - -"You enjoyed your ride?" she whispered. "Nothing happened?" - -Troubled by the steady eyes and the feverish clasp, which seemed to burn -through to her very bone, Nora answered hastily and with a forced -carelessness. - -"Nothing very much. Bruno bolted with me in the woods, and I do not -know what might have happened if Herr von Arnim had not come to my -rescue. It was all my fault." - -Hildegarde turned her flushed face a little on one side. - -"I knew something had happened," she said almost to herself. "It all -came over me when I fainted. I knew everything." - -Nora made no answer. She was thankful for the half-light, thankful that -the large, dark eyes had closed as though in utter weariness. They had -frightened her just as the conclusive "I know everything" had done by -their infallible mysterious knowledge. "And even if you do know -everything," she thought, "why should I mind?--why should I be afraid?" -Nevertheless, fear was hammering at her heart as she turned away. Frau -von Arnim took her by the hand. - -"She seems asleep," she whispered. "Let us leave her until the doctor -comes. Then we shall know better what to do." - -It was as though she had become suddenly anxious to get Nora away from -the sick girl's bedside, and Nora yielded without protest. She felt -that Hildegarde's need of her had passed; that she had indeed only -waited to ask that one question, "Did anything happen?" before sinking -into a feverish stupor. Silent, and strangely sick at heart, Nora -followed Frau von Arnim from the room into the passage. There the elder -woman took the troubled young face between her hands and kissed it. - -"Hildegarde loves you," she said gravely. "I perhaps know best how -much; but she has lost a great deal that makes life worth living, Nora, -and sometimes bitterness rises above every other feeling. When that -happens you must have pity and understanding. You must try and imagine -what it would be like if you lost health and strength----" She stopped -short, but Nora, struggling with the hard, painful lump in her throat, -did not notice the break. She saw only in the sad eyes the same appeal -that had met her on the first evening, "Be pitiful!" and, obeying an -irresistible impulse, she put her arms about Frau von Arnim's neck in an -outburst of conflicting feeling. - -"I do understand!" she cried brokenly. "And I am so dreadfully sorry. -I would do anything to help her--to make her happy!" - -"I know you would, dear Nora; but that is not in your power or mine. -She must learn happiness out of herself, as soon or late we all must do. -We can only wait and be patient." - -They said no more, but they kept together, as people do who find an -instinctive consolation in each other's presence. An hour later the -doctor arrived. He pronounced high fever, apparently without any direct -cause, and ordered quiet and close watching. - -"So far, it seems nothing serious," he said, with a thoughtful shake of -the head, "but she is delicate and over-sensitive. Every mental -excitement will work inevitably upon her health. She must be spared all -trouble and irritation." - -According to his suggestion, Frau von Arnim and Nora shared the task of -watching in the sick-room. There was nothing for them to do, for -Hildegarde lay inert and silent, apparently unconscious of their -presence, and the hours slipped heavily past. At ten o'clock Nora took -up her post. She had slept a little, and the dark rings beneath Frau -von Arnim's eyes caused her to say gently: - -"You must rest as long as you can. I am not tired. I could watch all -night." - -Frau von Arnim shook her head. - -"I will come again at twelve," she said, with a faint smile. "Youth -must have its sleep, and I shall be too anxious to be away long." - -The door closed softly, and Nora was left to her lonely vigil. She -stood for a moment in the centre of the room, overcome by a sudden -uneasiness and fear. She had watched before, but never before had the -silence seemed so intense, the room so full of moving shadows. Except -for the reflection from the log fire and the thin ray of a shaded -night-light, the apartment was in darkness, but to Nora's excited -imagination the darkness was alive and only the outstretched figure -beneath the canopy dead. The illusion was so strong that she crept -closer, listening with beating heart. There was no sound. For one -sickening moment it seemed as though her fear had become a reality--then -a stifled sigh broke upon the stillness. Hildegarde stirred restlessly, -and again there was silence, but no longer the same, no longer so -oppressive. Death was as yet far off, and, relieved and comforted, Nora -drew an arm-chair into the circle of firelight. From where she sat she -could observe every movement of her charge without herself changing -position, and for some time she watched anxiously, self-forgetful in the -fulfilment of her duty. But then the fascination of the glowing logs -drew her eyes away, and almost without her knowledge her thoughts -slipped their leash and escaped from the gloomy room with its atmosphere -of pain, out into the forest, back to the moment when life had broken -out into full sunshine and happiness such as she had never known, and -love incomparable, irresistible, swept down upon her and bore her with -them into a new paradise. Who shall blame her if she saw in the bright -flames not Hildegarde's pale, suffering face, but the features of the -man who had wrought in her the great miracle which occurs once, surely, -in every woman's life? Who shall blame her if a half-read letter and -its writer were forgotten, or, if remembered, only with a tender pity -such as all good women must feel for honest failure? And in that pity -there was mingled a certain wonder at herself that she could ever have -supposed her feeling for Robert Arnold to be love. What was the -childish regret at parting, the casual affection for an old comrade, -blown to a warmer glow by the first harsh winds of exile, compared to -this--this wonderful Thing which in an instant had revealed to her the -possibility of a union where the loneliness, conscious or unconscious, -surrounding each individual life is bridged and the barriers between -mind and mind, heart and heart, are burnt down by the flames of a pure -and noble passion? Poor Arnold! It was well for him that he could not -know what was passing in Nora's mind nor see her face as she gazed into -the fire. He might then have wished that his letter, with its bold -self-confidence, had never been written. For the glow upon the young -features was not all fire-shine, the starlight in the dreamy eyes not -all reflected gleams from the burning logs upon the hearth. Both had -their birth within, where the greatest of all human happiness had been -kindled--but not by Arnold's hand. - -Thus half an hour, and then an hour, slipped past. Lulled by her -thoughts and the absolute quiet about her, Nora sank into a doze. The -firelight faded into the distance, and half-dreaming, half-waking, she -drifted into a chaotic world of fancies and realities. She dreamed at -last that some one called her by name. She did not answer, and the call -grew louder, more persistent. It seemed to drag her against her will -back to full sensibility, and with a violent start Nora's eyes opened, -and she knew that the voice had not been part of her dreams, but that -Hildegarde was calling her with monotonous reiteration. - -"Nora! Nora!" - -"Yes, I am here. What is it?" - -Nora drew softly to the bedside and took the outstretched hand in hers. -It burnt, as though the feverish sparkle in the wide-opened eyes was but -a signal of an inner devouring fire, and there was something, too, in -the feeble smile which hurt Nora by reason of its very piteousness. - -"I ought not to have disturbed you," Hildegarde said in a dry whisper. -"It was selfish of me, but you looked so happy that I thought you could -spare me a moment. I have been so frightened." - -"Frightened, dear? Of what?" - -"I do not know--of myself, I think." - -She turned her fair head restlessly on the pillow, as though seeking to -retrace some thought, and then once more she lifted her eyes to Nora. -They seemed unnaturally large in the half-darkness, and their expression -strangely penetrating. Nevertheless, when she spoke again Nora felt -that they sought rather to convey a message than to question. - -"Nora, you will laugh at me--I want to know, have I been talking--in my -sleep, I mean?" - -"No." - -"I am glad." Again the same half-pleading, half-frightened smile played -about the colourless lips. "I have been having such mad dreams--not bad -dreams--only so--so untrue, so unreal. I should not have liked you to -know them. You might have thought----" She stopped, and her clasp -tightened. - -"You know how I love you, don't you, Nora?" - -"Yes, I think so--more than I deserve." - -"Not as much, but still, very dearly. That was what I wanted to tell -you. It seems foolish--in the middle of the night like this; but I was -so afraid you would not understand. You do, though, don't you?" - -"Of course." Nora spoke soothingly, but with a dim knowledge that she -had not wholly understood. There was, indeed, a message in those broken -sentences, but one to which she had no key. - -"You have been good to me," Hildegarde went on rapidly. "Though you -possess all that makes life worth living, you have not jarred on me with -your wealth. You have not tried to comfort me with the truism that -there are others more suffering than I--such a poor sort of comfort, -isn't it? As though it made me happy to think that more suffering was -possible--inevitable! When I am ill, I like to think that I am the -exception--that the great law of life is happiness. And you are life -and happiness personified, Nora, and so I love you. I love you so that -I grudge you nothing--shall never grudge you anything. That is--what--I -want--you to understand!" The last words came like a sigh, and there -was a long silence. The earnest eyes had closed, and she seemed to -sleep. Nora knelt down by the bedside, still holding the thin white hand -between her own, and so remained until, overcome by weariness, her head -sank on to the coverlet. Half an hour passed, and then suddenly a rough -movement startled her from her dreams. Again she heard her name called, -this time desperately, wildly, as though the caller stood at the brink -of some hideous chasm. - -"Nora! Nora!" - -Nora made no answer. She stumbled to her feet and stood half-paralysed, -looking at the features which in an instant had undergone so terrible a -change. Hildegarde sat bolt upright. Her hair was disordered, her eyes, -gleaming out of the ashy face, were fixed on the darkness behind Nora -with a terrible entreaty in their depths. - -"Nora! Nora! what have you done?" - -Nora recovered herself with an effort. Usually strong of nerve, there -was something in the voice, in the words, which terrified her. - -"Hildegarde, what do you mean? What is the matter?" - -"Oh, Nora, Nora, what have you done?" - -The voice had sunk to a moan so piteous, so wretched, that Nora forgot -the cold fear which for a moment held her paralysed. She tried to press -the frail figure gently back among the pillows. - -"Dear, I don't know what you mean. But you must lie quiet. To-morrow -you can tell me everything----" - -Hildegarde pushed her back and put her hand wildly to her head. - -"Of course, you can't help it. You don't even know. How should you? A -cripple--you would never even think of it. Nobody would--they would -laugh at me or pity me. Wolff pities me now--but not then. Oh, Wolff! -Wolff!" - -The name burst from the dry lips in a low cry of pain. Hitherto she had -spoken in English; she went on in German, but so clearly and with such -vivid meaning in tone and gesture that Nora, cowering at the foot of the -bed, felt that she would have understood had it been in some dead, -unknown language. - -"Wolff, how good you are to me! Shall we gallop over there to the -bridge? How splendid it is to be alive, isn't it? Yes, of course I -shall keep the supper waltz for you, if you really want it. We always -have such fun together. Look! There is the Kaiser on the brown horse! -And Wolff is leading the battery with Seleneck! How splendid he looks! -Oh, Wolff! Wolff!" - -Again the old cry, vibrating with all the unspoken love and pride and -happiness which the short, disjointed sentences had but indicated! They -had painted for the dazed, heart-stricken listener vivid pictures from -the past--the long, joyous gallops over the open country, the brilliant -ballroom, the parade, all the laughter, the music, the lights, and -chivalresque clash of arms--but in that one name a life had been -revealed, the inner life of a girl ripening to a pure and loving woman. - -The tears burned Nora's eyes. Every word that fell from the delirious -lips struck a deeper, more fatal blow at her own happiness, yet she -could not have fled, could not have stopped her ears against their -message. - -"You must work hard, Wolff," the voice went on, sunk to a sudden -gentleness. "Perhaps one day you will do something wonderful--something -that will help to make us the greatest country in the world. How proud -we shall be of you! I am proud already! Steady, Bruno! How wild you -are this morning! One last gallop! Oh, Wolff, don't look like that! It -is nothing--nothing at all! Only my back hurts. Am I not too heavy? -You are so strong." And then, with a smothered exclamation of anguish: -"Wolff, the doctor says I shall never ride again!" - -A long, unbroken silence. The young, suffering face had grown grey and -pinched. There were lines about the mouth which made it look like that -of an old woman. A log fell with a crash into the fireplace. The voice -went on, toneless, expressionless: - -"How the light shines on her face! She is so pretty, and she can walk -and ride. She is not half dead, like I am. No wonder he stands and -watches her! Wolff, why do you stand there? Why do you look like that? -Won't you come and sit by me? No, no, why should you? It is better so. -You play well together. _Tristan und Isolde_--I wonder if it is Fate. -They have gone out riding. I am glad. I wished it. When one is a -cripple one must conquer oneself. I can see them riding through the -park gates. They look splendid together--so handsome and young and -strong. Now they are galloping. Oh, my God, my God! Nora, what are you -doing? Something has happened! Oh, Wolff, Wolff! I know--I know you -love her!" - -The voice, which had risen from note to note as though urged by some -frightful inner tumult of fear, now sank to silence. Hildegarde fell -back among the pillows. With that final tragic recognition her mind -seemed once more to be shrouded in oblivion. The look of agony passed -from her features. She was young again, young and beautiful and at -peace. - -Nora stumbled. She would have fallen at the bedside had not a hand, -seeming to stretch out of the darkness, caught her and held her. It was -Frau von Arnim. How long she had been there Nora could not tell. She -felt herself being drawn gently but firmly away. - -"Go to your room, Nora. Lie down and sleep. I should never have left -you. Poor child!" - -In the midst of her grief the tones of deep, generous pity awoke in -Nora's heart a strange awe and wonder. She did not dare meet Frau von -Arnim's eyes. It was as though she knew she would see there a tragedy -greater than her own, a pain too sacred for words of comfort. She crept -from the room, leaving mother and daughter alone. - -"Nora, Nora, what have you done?" - -The words followed her; they rang in her ears as she flung herself down -by her table, burying her face in her arms in a passion of despair. - -"What have I done?" she asked again and again. And all that was generous -and chivalrous in her answered: - -"She loved you, and you have stolen her one happiness from her. You are -a thief. You have done the cruellest, meanest thing of your life." - -Justice protested: - -"How could you have known? You did not even know that _you_ loved, or -were loved--not till this morning." - -Then the memory of that morning, that short-lived happiness already -crumbled and in ruins, swept over her and bore down the last barriers of -her self-control. Poor Nora! She sobbed as only youth can sob face to -face with its first great grief, desperately, unrestrainedly, believing -that for her at least life and hope were at an end. Another less -passionate, less governed by emotion would have reasoned, "It is not -your fault. You need not suffer!" Nora only saw that, wittingly or -unwittingly, she had helped to heap sorrow upon sorrow for a being who -had shown her only kindness and love. She had brought fresh misfortune -where she should have brought consolation; she had dared to love where -she had no right to love; she had kindled a love in return which could -only mean pain--perhaps worse--to those who had given her their whole -trust and affection. She had done wrong, and for her there was only one -punishment--atonement by renunciation. - -The grey winter dawn crept into the little bedroom, and Nora still sat -at her table. She was no longer crying. Her eyes were wide open and -tearless. Only an occasional shudder, a rough, uneven sigh, told of the -storm that had passed over her. As the light grew stronger she took up -a crumpled letter and read it through, very slowly, as though each word -cost her an effort. When she had finished she copied an address on to -an envelope and began to write to Robert Arnold. Her hand shook so that -she had to tear up the first sheet and begin afresh, and even then the -words were scarcely legible. Once her courage almost failed her, but -she pulled herself back to her task with a pathetic tightening of the -lips. - -"I know now that I do not love you," she wrote. "I know, because I have -been taught what love really is; but if you will take me with the little -I have to give, I will be your wife." - -And with that she believed that she had raised an insurmountable barrier -between herself and the love which fate had made sinful. - - - - - *CHAPTER X* - - *YOUTH AND THE BARRIER* - - -It was Hildegarde's birthday. The November sunshine had come out to do -her honour, and in every corner of her room rich masses of winter -flowers rejoiced in the cold brightness which flooded in through the -open window. Hildegarde herself lay on the sofa, where the light fell -strongest. The two long weeks in which she had hung between life and -death had wrought curiously little change in her, and what change there -was lay rather in her expression than in her features. Her cheeks were -colourless, but she had always been pale, and the ethereal delicacy -which had become a very part of herself, and which seemed to surround -her with an atmosphere of peaceful sanctity, was more spiritual than -physical. Nora, who stood beside her, watching the sunlight as it made -a halo of the fair hair, could not think of her as a suffering human -being. It was surely a spirit that lay there, with the bunch of violets -clasped in the white hands--a spirit far removed from all earthly -conflict, upheld by some inner strength and softened by a grave, serene -wisdom. And yet, Nora knew, it was only an heroic "seeming." She knew -what pictures passed before the quiet eyes, what emotions lay hidden in -the steady-beating heart, what pain the gentle lips held back from -utterance. Admiration, pity, and love struggled in Nora's soul with the -realisation of her own loss and the total ruin of her own happiness. -"But I have done right," she repeated to herself, with a kind of -desperate defiance, "and one day, if you are happy, it will be because I -also brought my sacrifice in silence." It was her one consolation--a -childish one enough, perhaps--the conviction that she had done right. -It was the one thing which upheld her when she thought of the letter -speeding to its destination and of the fate she had chosen for herself. -But it had not prevented the change with which grief and struggle mark -the faces of the youngest and the bravest. - -Down below in the street the two quiet listeners heard the tramp of -marching feet which stopped beneath their window, and presently a knock -at the door heralded a strange apparition. A burly under-officer in -full dress stood saluting on the threshold. - -"The regiment brings _Gnädiges Fräulein_ its best wishes for her -birthday," he thundered, as though a dozen luckless recruits stood -before him. "The regiment wishes _Gnädiges Fräulein_ health and -happiness, and hopes that she will approve of the selection which has -been made." He advanced with jingling spurs and held out a sheet of -paper, which Hildegarde accepted with a gentle smile of thanks. - -"It is a nice programme, isn't it?" she said, as she handed the list to -Nora. "All my favourites." - -"It was the Herr Hauptmann who told us what _Gnädiges Fräulein_ liked," -the gruff soldier said, still in an attitude of rigid military -correctness. "The Herr Hauptmann will be here himself before long. He -commanded me to tell _Gnädiges Fräulein_." - -"Thank you, Huber--and thank the regiment for its good wishes. -Afterwards--when the concert is over--well, you know what is waiting for -you and your men in the kitchen." - -He bowed stiffly over her extended hand. - -"_Danke, Gnädiges Fräulein_." He strode back to the door, and then -turned and hesitated, his weather-beaten face a shade redder. - -"The regiment will lose the Herr Hauptmann soon," he said abruptly. - -"Yes, Huber. And then what will you do?" - -"Go too, _Gnädiges Fräulein_. I have served my country many years, and -when the Herr Hauptmann leaves the regiment I have had enough. One gets -old and stiff, and the time comes when one must take off the helmet." - -"That is true, Huber." - -Still he hesitated. - -"And _Gnädiges Fräulein_----?" - -"I, Huber?" - -"_Gnädiges Fräulein_ will go with the Herr Hauptmann?" - -A deep wave of colour mounted the pale cheeks. - -"It is possible we may go to Berlin for a few months." - -"_Ja_, _ja_, for a few months!" He laughed, and his laugh was like the -rumble of distant thunder. "It is well, _Gnädiges Fräulein_; it is -well." Then suddenly he stiffened, growled an "_Empfehle mich -gehorsamst_," and was gone. - -Hildegarde bowed her head over the violets and there was a long silence. -Then she too laughed so naturally and gaily that Nora forgot herself and -looked at her in wondering surprise. - -"He is such a strange old fellow," Hildegarde explained. "Wolff calls -him his nurse. Once in the manoeuvres he saved Wolff's life, and ever -since then he has attached himself to the family, and looks upon us all -more or less as his children. He is never disrespectful, and so we -allow him his little idiosyncrasies. One of his pet ideas is that Wolff -should marry me." - -Nora repressed a start. What strange thing was this that Hildegarde -should speak so lightly, so carelessly, of the tragic loss overshadowing -both their lives? - -"I think it would quite break his heart if we disappointed him," -Hildegarde added quietly. "Is it not amusing?" - -"Amusing?" Nora's hand gripped the back of the sofa. "I do not see why -it should be amusing--it is natural. Of course"--she struggled to -overcome the roughness in her voice--"every one sees how much your--your -cousin cares for you." - -Again the same easy laugh answered her. - -"Why, Nora, you are as bad as our military matchmaker! Of course, Wolff -is fond of me just as I am of him. We are like brother and sister; but -marriage--that is quite another matter. I am afraid I could never bring -myself to marry a man whose heart-affairs I have known ever since he was -an absurd little cadet." - -Nora pushed the hair from her forehead. She felt as though the ground -had suddenly been torn from under her feet. Every resolution, every -principle, the very spirit of sacrifice to which she had clung, had been -shaken by those few simple words. Had she dreamed, then, that night -when delirium had broken open the innermost sanctuary of Hildegarde's -heart? Had it all been a wild fancy, and was this the truth? Or---- -She looked full into the face raised to hers. There was a quiet -merriment in the steady eyes--a merriment which yielded gradually to -concern, but there was no sign of pain, no trace of struggle. It was -impossible to believe that those eyes held their secret, or that the -smiling lips had once uttered a cry of the greatest human agony. Yes, it -was impossible, and if impossible, why, then---- Nora could think no -further. She turned and walked mechanically to the window. The -military band had begun the wedding-march out of _Lohengrin_, but for -her it was no more than a confused sound beating against her brains. -She heard the house-gate click, and saw a well-known figure slowly mount -the steps, but she could not rouse herself to speak or think. She stood -stunned and helpless, knowing nothing of the pitying eyes that watched -her. In those moments a faint change had come over Hildegarde von -Arnim's features. The smile had died, and in its place had come a grave -peace--a peace such as is given sometimes with renunciation. Then her -eyes closed and she seemed to sleep, but her hands held fast to the -purple violets, and the sunlight falling upon the quiet face revealed a -line that is also renunciation's heritage. - -Meanwhile Wolff von Arnim had entered the state drawing-room, whither -the little housemaid, overwhelmed by the plumes and glittering -epaulettes, had considered fit to conduct him. It was the one spot in -the whole house which Frau von Arnim had not been able to stamp with her -own grace and elegance. The very chairs seemed to have entered into a -conspiracy to appear stiff, and stood in comfortless symmetrical order, -and the fire smouldering upon the hearth could do nothing against the -chill atmosphere of an unloved and seldom inhabited dwelling-room. - -Arnim went straight to the window. It was as though his surroundings -pressed upon him with an intolerable burden, and he remained staring -sightlessly out into the grey morning until the quiet opening of a door -told him that he was no longer alone. Even then he did not at once -turn. Only the slight convulsive tightening of the hand upon the -sword-hilt betrayed that he had heard, and Frau von Arnim had almost -reached his side before he swung round to greet her. - -"Aunt Magda!" he exclaimed. - -She gave him her hand, and he bent over it--remained so long with his -head bowed that it seemed a conscious prolongation of the time before -their eyes must meet. - -"I hardly expected you this afternoon," she said gently, "certainly not -in such _grande tenue_. Are you on special duty?" - -He did not answer at once. He stood looking at her with a curiously -absent expression. - -"I came to ask after Hildegarde," he said. "Is she better?" - -"Yes, much better--still very weak, of course. A fever like that is not -quickly forgotten." - -She had slipped her arm through his and led him to the sofa before the -fire. - -"The violets you sent are most beautiful," she went on. "They gave -Hildegarde so much pleasure. She asked me to thank you for them." - -He sat down beside her and for a moment was silent, gazing into the -fire. - -"Aunt Magda," he then began abruptly, "you have never told me what it -was that caused Hildegarde's illness--nor even what was the matter with -her. I--I want to know." - -A faint, rather weary smile passed over Frau von Arnim's lips. - -"Illness with Hildegarde is never far off, _lieber Junge_," she said. -"She is like an ungarrisoned castle exposed to the attack of every -enemy. The least thing--something which leaves you and me -unharmed--throws her off her balance no one knows how or why." - -"And she was once so strong!" he said, half to himself. "Nothing could -tire her, and she was never ill--never." - -"Wolff, there is no good in remembering what was and can never be -again." - -"Never?" he queried. - -"Not so far as we can see." - -His strongly marked brows knitted themselves in pain. - -"Would to God it had all happened to me!" he broke out impulsively. -"Then it would not have been so bad." - -"It would have been much worse," Frau von Arnim answered. "Women suffer -better than men, Wolff. It is one of their talents. After a time, -Hildegarde will find consolation where you would only have found -bitterness." - -"After a time!" he repeated. "Then she is not happy? Poor Hildegarde!" - -"Even women cannot learn patience and resignation in a day." - -He sprang up as though inactivity had become unbearable. - -"Aunt Magda--if she is strong enough--I want to see Hildegarde." - -"Why?" - -Involuntarily their eyes met in a quick flash of understanding. - -"Because I think that it is time for our relationship to each other to -be clearly settled," he said. "Ever since our childhood it has been an -unwritten understanding that if Hildegarde would have me we should -marry; and so I have come to ask her--if she will be my wife." - -He spoke bluntly, coldly, not as he had meant to speak, but the steady -gaze on his face shook his composure. - -"Have you the right to ask her that?" - -"Aunt Magda!" - -"Or, after all, have you been playing with the affections of a girl who -has the right to my protection?" - -"Aunt Magda--that is not true--that----" - -He stopped short, pale with agitation, his lips close compressed on the -hot words of self-vindication. - -For a minute Frau von Arnim waited as though giving him time to speak, -and then she went on quietly: - -"Wolff, we Arnims are not fond of charity. We prefer to eat out our -hearts in silence rather than be objects of the world's pity. And -Hildegarde is like the rest of us. She will not ask for your sympathy -nor your care nor your devotion. She will ask you for your whole heart. -Can you give her that?" - -He made a gesture as though about to give a hasty answer, but her eyes -stopped him. - -"I--love Hildegarde," he stammered. "We have been friends all our -lives." - -"Friends, Wolff! I said 'your whole heart.'" - -And then he saw that she knew; and suddenly the tall, broad-shouldered -man dropped down, sword-clattering, at her side and buried his face in -his hands. The smile in Frau von Arnim's eyes deepened. So he had done -in the earlier days when youthful scrapes and disappointments had sent -the usually proud, reserved boy to the one unfailing source of -understanding and consolation. Very gently she rested her hand upon his -shoulder. - -"Shall you never grow up, Wolff?" she said with tender mockery. "Shall -you always be a big schoolboy, with the one difference that you have -grown conceited and believe that you can hide behind a full-dress -uniform and a gruff military voice--even from my eyes?" - -He lifted his flushed, troubled face to hers. - -"You know--everything?" he asked. - -"Everything, _lieber Junge_. Hildegarde knows, Johann knows, the cook -knows. I should not be surprised if the very sparrows make it a subject -of their chattering. And you can go about with that stern face and -mysterious, close-shut mouth and think you have deceived us all! Oh, -Wolff, Wolff!" - -"You are laughing at me," he said. "God knows I am in deadly earnest." - -She took his hand between her own. - -"If I laugh at you it is because I must," she said; "because it is the -only thing to do. There are some forms of quixotic madness which it is -dangerous to take seriously, and this is one of them. Wolff, you have -tortured yourself with an uncalled-for remorse until you are ready to -throw your own life and the lives of others into a huge catastrophe. In -all this, have you thought what it might mean to Nora?" - -He started, and the colour ebbed out of his face, leaving it curiously -pale and haggard. - -"I think of her day and night," he said hoarsely. "I pray God that she -does not know--that I shall pass out of her life and leave no trace -behind me." - -"You believe that that is possible? You deceive yourself so well? You -pretend you do not love Nora, and you do not know that she loves you?" - -"That I love her? Yes, I know that," he confessed desperately. "But -that she loves me--how should I know?" - -"Any one would know--you must know." She put both her hands on his -shoulders and looked him firmly in the face. "Wolff, if you were honest -you would admit it. You would see that you have acted cruelly--without -intention, but still cruelly." - -"Then if I have been cruel, I have been most cruel against myself," he -answered. "But I meant to do what was right--I meant to act honestly. -It is true when I say I love Hildegarde. I do love her--not perhaps as -a man should love his wife, but enough, and I had sworn that I would -make her happy, that I would compensate her for all that she has lost. I -swore that to myself months ago--before Nora came. When Nora came, Aunt -Magda"--his voice grew rough--"there are some things over which one has -no power, no control. It was all done in a minute. If I had been -honest, I should have gone away, but it would have been too late. And -as it was I deceived myself with a dozen lies. I stayed on and saw her -daily, and the thing grew until that morning when Bruno bolted. I lost -my head then. When it was all over I could not lie and humbug any more. -I had to face the truth. It was then Hildegarde fell ill. I felt it as -a sort of judgment." - -He spoke in short, jerky sentences, his face set and grey with the -memory of a past struggle. He sprang to his feet and stood erect at -Frau von Arnim's side. - -"Whatever else I am, I am not consciously a cad," he said. "What I had -done wrong I was determined to put right at all costs. I loved -Hildegarde, and I had dedicated my life to her happiness. Nothing and -no one must turn me from my purpose. That is why I am here this -morning." He made an impatient gesture. "I have been a fool. You have -seen through me--you have made me tell you what torture would not have -dragged out of me. But that can alter nothing." - -For a moment Frau von Arnim watched his stern, half-averted face in -silence. Then she too rose. - -"I have a message for you from Hildegarde," she said quietly. - -He started. - -"For me?" - -"Yes. Those who suffer have quick eyes, quicker intuitions. She saw -this coming, and she asked me to tell you--should it come--that she -loved you too much to accept a useless sacrifice. For it would have -been useless, Wolff. You deceive yourself doubly if you believe you -could have made Hildegarde happy. Yes, if you had brought your whole -heart--then, perhaps; but it is almost an insult to have supposed that -she would have been satisfied with less. Since her illness she has told -me everything, and we have talked it over, and this is our answer to -you: Take the woman you love; be happy, and be to us what you always -were. In any other form we will have nothing to do with you!" - -She was smiling again, but Arnim turned away from the outstretched -hands. - -"It is awful!" he said roughly. "I cannot do it--I cannot!" - -"You must, Wolff. Let time pass over it if you will, but in the end you -must yield. You dare not trample on your own happiness, on Nora's, on -Hildegarde's--yes, Hildegarde's," she repeated emphatically. "In the end -she will find happiness in her own renunciation. She loves you both, -and the first bitterness is already past. And why wait? There may be -struggles enough before you both, though I shall do my best to help you. -Go to Nora and make her happy. Believe me, _lieber Junge_, the -heart-ache has not been all on your side." - -He had taken her hands now and was kissing them with a passionate, -shame-faced gratitude. - -"You make me feel the lowest, meanest thing on earth," he said. "And -Hildegarde is an angel--far too good for me." - -"Yes; that is the best way to put it," she said. "Hildegarde is too good -for you. And now perhaps it would be wise for you to go in search of -the woman who is your equal." - -"Not now," he said. "I could not. I must be alone a little. It has -all happened so suddenly. My whole life and future has changed in a -minute." - -"Do as you think best, dear Wolff. But do not wait long." - -He pressed her hand again in farewell. - -"You love Nora?" he asked. - -"Yes; otherwise I would not have let things drift. There are many -barriers between you--race and language are not the least--and we had -thought of a match--since Hildegarde's illness--more, perhaps, in -accordance with our family traditions. But Nora is a dear, sweet child, -and, I believe, will make you a good wife. At any rate, I shall do all -I can to smooth your path, and Hildegarde and I will be happy to welcome -her as one of us." - -He smiled, half in gratitude, half in doubt. - -"You seem very sure that she will have me," he said. "Everybody does -not think me such a fine fellow as you do." - -"_Lieber Junge_, I am a woman, and when I see a girl grow thin and pale -without apparent cause--well, I look for the cause. Nora has been very -unhappy in the last days. I suspect strongly she has been suffering -from your conflict, and no doubt looks upon her life and happiness as -ruined. That is why I tell you not to wait too long." - -There was so much affection in her tone that the faint mockery in her -words left no sting. - -"I will not wait long, I promise you," Wolff said. - -At the door he turned and looked back at her. It was almost as though -he had meant to surprise her into a betrayal of some hidden feeling; but -Frau von Arnim had not moved, nor was there any change in the grave -face. - -"Tell Hildegarde that I shall never forget," he said earnestly, "that I -owe her my happiness, and that I thank her." - -"I shall give her your message," Frau von Arnim answered. - -The fate that arranges the insignificant, all-important chances of our -lives ordained that at the same moment when Wolff von Arnim passed out -of the drawing-room Nora Ingestre came down the stairs. She held an open -telegram in her hand, and the light from the hall window fell on a face -white with grief and fear. - -Arnim strode to meet her. - -"What is it?" he demanded. "What has happened?" - -"My mother is very ill," she answered faintly. "They have sent for me." - -She had descended the last step. The next instant Wolff von Arnim was -at her side, and had taken her in his arms. - -"_Mein Liebling!_" he whispered. "_Mein armes Liebling!_" - -She yielded, overwhelmed by the swiftness of his action, by her own wild -heart-throb of uncontrollable joy. Then she tried to free herself. - -"You must not!" she cried. "It is not right!" - -"My wife!" he retorted triumphantly. "My wife!" - -She looked up into his face. At no time had he been dearer to her, -seemed more worthy of her whole love, than he did then, with his own joy -subdued by an infinite tenderness and pity. But the name "wife" had -rung like a trumpet-call, reminding and threatening even as it tempted. - -"Oh, Wolff!" she said, "you must let me go. It is not possible--you do -not understand. I----" - -She was going to tell him of the barrier she had raised with her own -hands, of the letter that was on its way. She was going to say to him, -"I am not free. My word is given to another. Seek your happiness where -it awaits you." In some such words she meant to shatter her own life -and lay the first stones of the atonement to the girl whose happiness -she had stolen. Or, after all, had it been no theft? Was it not -possible that she had been deceived? And even if it were true, had it -not been said, "A useless sacrifice is no sacrifice at all"? Had she -not a right to her happiness? And Wolff was speaking, and it seemed to -her that his joy and triumph answered her. - -"Nothing can come between us and our love!" he said. "Nothing and no -one! Oh, Nora, _ich habe dich so endlos lieb_!" - -The barrier, the letter, Hildegarde, every heroic resolution was -forgotten, swept away by the man's passion and her own exulting love. -Nora leant her head against the dark-blue coat in reckless, thankful -surrender. - -"_Ich habe dich so endlos lieb!_" he repeated. "_Kannst du mich auch -lieb haben?_" - -And she answered fearlessly: - -"I love you!" and kissed him. - -Such was Nora Ingestre's brief courtship and betrothal. - - - - - *CHAPTER XI* - - *WOLFF MAKES HIS DEBUT IN DELFORD* - - -The family Ingestre was once more united. As far as could be judged -from appearances, the union was a complete one. Domestic peace and -prosperity seemed to hover like benignant spirits over the tableau which -concluded the day's round. Mrs. Ingestre lay as usual on her couch -beneath the light of the tall red-shaded lamp, her husband was seated at -the table, poring over a volume of the latest dogma, whilst his son, -still suffering from the results of a nervous breakdown (attributed to -overwork), reclined in the most comfortable arm-chair by the fireside, -and imbibed military wisdom from a London daily. If there was any note -of discord in this harmony, it came from Nora. She stood opposite her -brother, with her elbow resting on the mantelpiece, and the firelight -betrayed a warning flash in the wide-open eyes and a tense line about -the mouth which boded not altogether well for peace. Her father had -glanced once or twice over his spectacles in her direction, but had -seemed satisfied. On the whole, she had taken her abrupt and alarming -recall with surprising docility and had accepted the obvious -exaggeration of the Rev. John's report concerning her mother without -resentment. Mrs. Ingestre had been ill, but then she was always more or -less ill, and the degree more had scarcely justified the good -gentleman's excited telegram. Were the truth admitted, he had been glad -to seize upon an excuse to withdraw Nora from the "pernicious influence" -of her foreign surroundings, and the strain of copying his sermons and -attending to his own affairs generally had given the casting vote. As -it has been said, Nora's docility had been as agreeable as it was -surprising, and he attributed it to causes very satisfactory to himself. -It was obvious, as he had explained triumphantly to Mrs. Ingestre, that -Nora had had a bitter lesson "amongst these foreigners," and was only -too glad to be home. Hitherto Nora had allowed him to cherish this -delusion--hence the undisturbed peace in the family circle. - -The French clock on the mantelpiece struck nine. Nora started and looked -up, as though she had been waiting for the sound. Then she turned and -stood with her back to the fire, her hands clasped behind her, her head -held resolutely. "Father and mother," she began, "I have something -important to tell you." - -The Rev. John turned over a page before considering the speaker. The -formality of the address and Nora's general attitude would have startled -him if he had been any judge of outward and visible signs, but he was -one of those men who only see what they have made up their mind to see, -and just at that moment he was determined to look upon Nora in something -of the light of a returned and repentant prodigal. - -"Well, my dear," he asked indulgently, "what is it?" - -"I want to tell you"--Nora took a deep breath--"that I am engaged to be -married." - -The Rev. John removed his spectacles. - -"To whom?" - -"To Captain von Arnim." - -For a full minute her father said nothing. Miles sat up as though a -bomb had exploded in his close proximity. Only Mrs. Ingestre remained -unmoved. She was watching her daughter with grave, thoughtful eyes, but -there was an unmistakable, half-whimsical, half-pitying smile about her -mouth. The Rev. John passed his hand over his head, thereby ruffling a -thin wisp of hair, which, usually decorously smoothed over a wide -surface, now stood on end in a fashion wholly inconsistent with the -seriousness of the moment. But of this he was fortunately ignorant. To -do him justice, his agitation was unfeigned. The blow had demoralised -him, and to cover the momentary mental paralysis he took refuge in an -obstinate refusal to understand what had been said to him. - -"My dear," he began amiably, "you mentioned that some one was going to -be married--I did not catch the names. Would you mind repeating----? - -"I said that Captain von Arnim has asked me to be his wife," Nora -answered steadily. - -"The impertinence of the fellow!" Miles had by this time recovered his -self-possession sufficiently to speak. "I hope you sent him to the -right-about?" - -"I kissed him," Nora explained, with a gleam of humour. - -"Nora!" - -"There was no reason why I shouldn't. He is to be my husband." - -Miles swore under his breath. The Rev. John rose with what would have -been dignity but for his ruffled hair-dress. - -"Nora--you--you--are talking nonsense," he jerked out. "I cannot -believe that you know what you are saying. A--a--foreigner--a--a man of -whom I know nothing!----" - -"You will get to know him in time," Nora put in hastily. - -"Do not interrupt me. I am grieved--shocked beyond words. I can only -suppose that you have been led astray--eh--blinded by the glamour of a -uniform. It is terrible. This is the reward of my weakness. Have I -not always seen this coming?"--(here the reverend gentleman exaggerated, -since the gift of prophecy had not been granted him)--"have I not always -protested against your absence? But I at least supposed that--that Frau -von Arnim was a woman who could be trusted--who would protect you from -the--eh--attentions of a----" - -"Frau von Arnim is the best woman I have ever met, except mother," Nora -broke in again. "As to Wolff----" - -"Wolff!" Miles laughed loudly. "Just think of it, people! 'Wolff' for -my brother-in-law! A German bounder in the family! Many thanks!" - -There was a moment's electric silence. The Rev. John had by this time -recovered his professional eloquence, and was preparing to settle down -to the work of exhortation with a zest. It was perhaps fortunate that -Nora's face was turned away, otherwise he might have found less pleasure -in listening to his own rounded periods. - -"Miles puts the matter a trifle pointedly," he began, "but, on the -whole, he expresses my own views. For many reasons I strongly disapprove -of an English girl marrying out of her people, and as you are too young -and inexperienced to appreciate those reasons, you must submit to my -simple authority. I must, dear child, absolutely refuse my consent to -this premature and regrettable engagement. I have no doubt that Frau -von Arnim will see for herself that in her anxiety to effect an -advantageous alliance for her nephew she has been over-hasty--I must -say, inexcusably hasty, in giving her sanction." - -"Thank goodness _that_ is knocked on the head!" Miles said, rising -triumphantly to his feet. "I swear to you, the bare possibility makes -me feel positively faint. We all know what German officers are -like--bullying drinkers and gamblers----" - -Nora turned and looked at him. There was something very like hatred in -her dangerously bright eyes. - -"I forbid you to speak like that of a class to which my future husband -belongs!" she said. "Besides what you said being nonsense, it is also -cowardly to attack where no chance is given to defend. As to my -engagement"--she turned again to her father, and her voice grew calm and -firm--"whether you give your consent or not makes no real difference. In -a short time I shall be of age, and then I shall marry Wolff. We can -afford to wait, if it must be." - -"Nora!" The Rev. John recovered his breath with difficulty. "How can -you--how dare you speak to me like that? Have you forgotten that I am -your father--that----" - -"I have not forgotten anything," Nora interrupted, in the same steady -accents, "but it would be hypocritical of me to pretend a submission -which I do not feel and which I should consider disloyal. Hitherto my -duty has been towards you--it is now due to the man whom I love above -every other earthly consideration. It does not matter in the least to -me that Wolff is a foreigner. If he were a Hottentot it would make no -difference." - -Neither the Rev. John nor his son found any immediate answer. They -looked at the proud, determined face, and perhaps in various degrees of -distinctness each realised that Nora the child was a creature of the -past, and that this was a woman who stood before them, armed and -invulnerable in the strength of her awakened passion. - -The Rev. John, completely thrown out of his concept by this unexpected -revelation, looked at his wife with the weak appeal of a blusterer who -suddenly discovers that he has blustered in vain. Mrs. Ingestre saw the -look--possibly she had been waiting for it. - -"I think that, if all Nora says is true, we have no right to interfere," -she said quietly, "and the best thing we can do is to ask Captain von -Arnim to come and see us. What do you say, Nora?" - -Nora's whole face lit up, but she said nothing, only looked at her -father and waited. Had she burst out into a storm of girlish delight -and gratitude, the Rev. John might have plucked up courage and held his -ground, but that steady self-repression indicated a strength of purpose -of which he himself was incapable. He shrugged his shoulders. - -"Since my authority is denied in my own house, there is no object in -appealing to me," he said peevishly. "Do what you like--only, in the -future remember that I warned you. You have taken your life into your -own hands, Nora. I can no longer hold myself responsible." - -"All I beg is that I shall be allowed to keep out of the way when the -beggar comes here," Miles said, as he followed his indignant parent out -of the room. - -The moment the door had closed Nora left her place of defence by the -fire and came to Mrs. Ingestre's side. - -"I know you are wondering why I did not tell you before, mother," she -said rapidly and clearly. "It was because I did not want to drag you -into it more than I could help. I know what you have to bear when -father thinks you are 'abetting' me. I wanted to fight my battle -alone." - -"And I suppose you think you have won, Nora?" - -"Yes, I think so. Father can do nothing." - -"I was not thinking of that." - -Nora looked down into the pale face and wondered at the pity which -mingled with the tenderness of its expression. - -"Of what were you thinking, mother?" - -Mrs. Ingestre sighed. - -"Are you so sure of yourself, little girl?" she asked gently. "Is your -love really above every earthly consideration? Can you give up your -home, your country, your language, your ways, us--your people, without a -heart-ache? Do you realise that you are bringing your love the greatest -of all sacrifices?" - -"Mother, it is a sacrifice Wolff will never ask of me." - -"Life will ask it of you--not even Wolff can alter the laws of life. -The day may come when Circumstance will say to you that you must choose. -And what then?" - -Nora was silent. Then she lifted her head. - -"Then, mother, I should have to choose. It is true--my love is -strongest in me." - -Mrs. Ingestre sank back among her pillows. - -"God help you, dear!" she said under her breath. - -Nora waited a moment. There was something more that she had to -tell--the story of a letter written in a fervour of self-sacrifice, and -of another letter written two weeks later, a pitiful letter containing a -confession and a plea for forgiveness. But she recognised the signs of -exhaustion, and crept softly back to the fire. After all, it would do -another day. Another day! That most pitiful of all excuses had haunted -her from the moment that she had felt Wolff von Arnim's arms about her, -and she was honest enough to despise it and herself. But she was -afraid. She was convinced that Wolff would not understand either her old -friendship with Robert Arnold or her subsequent folly in accepting a man -she did not love. Nor could she explain, for the one explanation -possible was the sacred secret of Hildegarde's heart. She was equally -convinced that her mother would disapprove of her silence and demand -that she should deal honestly with the man she was to marry. She knew -that her mother would be right, and indeed she meant to tell the -truth--but not now. The new happiness was too insecure. And then, the -episode, foolish and even disloyal as it had been, was closed and done -with. Robert Arnold had obviously accepted her final acknowledgment of -the truth, and had silently gone his way. He had not answered either -letter, and probably they would not meet again, or, at any rate, not -until the wound had healed and been forgotten. Was it not wiser, -therefore, to keep silence also--for the present? Thus Nora argued with -her own conscience, and, torn between a natural rectitude and a -headstrong love, came to no conclusion, but let the matter drift until -that well-known "some time" which, had she been wiser, she would have -recognised as an equivalent for "never." - -But at least the great battle for her liberty had been fought and won. -An invitation was promptly sent to Karlsburg and as promptly accepted, -and the day dawned which was to see Wolff's triumphal entry into the -enemy's stronghold. Even Miles, though the permission to "keep out of -the way" would have been willingly granted him as far as Nora was -concerned, insisted on making his future brother-in-law's arrival an -excuse for returning on leave. - -"The sooner I get the blow over the better," he said, and gratuitously -undertook to accompany Nora and her father to the station when the -unloved guest was expected. - -There were more people on the platform than was usual at that time of -the day. From one source and another, Delford had got to know all about -Nora's engagement; and though, from the station-master's "Well, I call -it a real downright shame that a pretty girl should throw herself away -on one of them there Proosians!" to Mrs. Clerk's "Dear me, how -dreadful!" the chorus of disapproval had been rung on every possible -change, still, a good many of the disapprovers had found it necessary to -be present at the arrival of the London express. Nora herself noticed -nothing unusual. She was overwhelmed by a sense of unreality which made -the incidents of the last months seem like pictures from a confused -dream. Everything had happened so swiftly. Love, despair, and happiness -had trodden on each other's heels; and in the same moment that she had -grasped her happiness with both hands, she had been swept away, back -into the old surroundings where that happiness had no place. And now -that it was coming to her, seeking her out, as it were, in the enemy's -territory, she could hardly be sure whether it were really true, whether -Wolff himself were not some dream-figure who had won her in another and -less everyday existence. - -In the midst of her bewildered thoughts the express steamed into the -little station, and the next minute Wolff had become a living, breathing -reality, who swept down upon her and kissed her, regardless of all the -Delfordites in the world. When he gave her time and opportunity to look -at him, she felt that he, too, had undergone a change, and had taken on -something of his surroundings. She would hardly have recognised him in -the plain tweed suit and bowler hat. Neither became him so well as his -uniform--to tell the truth, neither fitted him with any great -exactitude, and it was all too evident that the suit was "ready-made." -But the face, strong and tanned, flushed now with his joy at seeing her, -was the same. It carried her memory back to that wonderful hour when he -had lifted her out of the deepest despair to an intoxicating happiness, -and she, too, forgot the Delfordites and the disapproving glances of her -relations, and clung to him in a transport of delight. - -"My little Nora!" he said, "the weeks have been months!" - -"I am not sure that they have not been years!" she cried, laughing. And -then she remembered her father and brother, and hastened to perform the -ceremony of introduction. The three men shook hands, the Rev. John with -solemnity, Miles with a covert sneer and a glance which took in every -detail of the newcomer's person. Either the solemnity or the sneer -worked depressingly on Wolff's spirits. He grew suddenly quiet and -grave, though his eyes, when they met Nora's, flashed with a smothered -happiness which she read and understood. - -But the drive home in the narrow confines of the Delford brougham -remained in Nora's memory as one of the most painful in her experience. -The Rev. John persisted in his funereal solemnity, and talked of the -weather, the journey, and the crops, very much as though he were trying -to take their minds off the unpleasant circumstances which had brought -them together. As to Miles, he sat in the far corner with his hands in -his pockets and stared out of the window--when he was not staring the -new-comer out of countenance. - -Poor Nora! Never before had she greeted the appearance of the monument -and the ugly church steeple with so much thankfulness. - -"We are nearly there now," she said, looking up into Wolff's face. -"Mother has been so impatient to see you." - -Her eyes were full of a shamed, indignant apology, to which Wolff's -quiet smile seemed to answer: - -"What do I care for them? I would carry you off if there were forty of -them, all forty times as disagreeable!" And he pressed her hand -defiantly under the rugs. - -At length the vicarage was reached. The queer, old-fashioned trunk was -dragged down from its perch, and five minutes later Wolff was standing -in the dimly lit drawing-room. Mrs. Ingestre had heard their coming, -and came slowly and painfully forward. Her hands were outstretched, and -Wolff took them, gravely bowing, and kissed them. Nora saw a curious, -half-horrified expression pass over her father's face, and Miles -smothered a laugh. She felt in that moment as though she could have -killed them both, and then fled with Wolff anywhere, so long as she -could get away from their stifling atmosphere of self-satisfaction and -petty prejudices. - -Her mother's voice was the first to break the silence. - -"My dear Wolff," Mrs. Ingestre said gently, "how glad I am that you have -really come at last!" - -The simple words, with their quietly emphasised acceptance of him as a -relation, acted like a balm on poor Nora's wounded spirits. She saw, -too, that Wolff's face had relaxed. - -"You make me very happy," he said. "I feel for the first time that Nora -and I really belong to one another--since I have seen you, and you have -welcomed me." - -A strange sound came from the Rev. John's direction, which might have -been a cough or a groan of disapproval. Mrs. Ingestre appeared to -notice nothing. She took Wolff's arm, and, leaning on him as though for -support, led him closer to the light. - -"You must forgive me," she said. "Remember that I am an old woman and -that old women have their cranks. One of mine is that I do not like to -be kept waiting. And I have been kept waiting so long to see the face -of this wonderful German that I forgot that in all politeness I should -be studying you out of the corners of my eyes. Nora has of course -described you--but then, Nora is prejudiced." - -At this point the Rev. John's cough became consumptive in its hollow -persistency, and he was heard to murmur something to the effect that -Herr von Arnim would no doubt like to be shown to his room. Herr von -Arnim appeared to be afflicted with deafness. He looked down at Mrs. -Ingestre, meeting her frank inspection with steady, laughing eyes. - -"I am not anything to look at--especially in these clothes," he said -naïvely. "I don't think even Nora could have said that I was handsome. -So you must not judge by appearances. After a time you will know what I -really am, and I hope you will like me." - -"If I can trust Nora's description I do that already," Mrs. Ingestre -answered, "but, more than Nora, more than experience, I trust my own -eyes. And I think"--she paused, and the smile that crept about her lips -lit up her whole face, and made it almost young and very beautiful--"I -think I shall be happy to give my Nora to you, Wolff." - -The cough and its owner had departed in despair. Miles, finding himself -ignored, skulked sulkily in the passage. Wolff bent and kissed the -white, delicate hand that still clasped his own. - -"I thank you!" he said simply. - -This time there were neither exclamatory eyebrows nor smothered giggles, -and Nora, forgetting that they had ever been, saw in Wolff's action the -seal and charter of her happiness. - - - - - *CHAPTER XII* - - *NORA FORSAKES HER COUNTRY* - - -Nora believed in unalloyed happiness. Any one with more experience -would have known that unalloyed happiness, as such, does not exist. The -moment when we feel ourselves supremely happy is the moment when we are -most exposed to the rude shocks of fortune. We know it, and -consequently our bliss is immediately overshadowed with the knowledge of -its short duration. - -When Mrs. Ingestre and Wolff had stood together hand in hand, as though -in solemn compact of friendship and affection, Nora's heart had filled -to overflowing; but already that same evening a dozen trifles, a dozen -pin-pricks, came to prove to her that the storms and misadventures of -the last weeks were by no means at an end. Her father who, to do him -justice, never accused a fellow-creature until he was proved guilty, was -none the less on the lookout for proofs of Wolff's unsuitability, and -continued distressed and grave. If at any time the conversation became -in the least animated, or showed a tendency to the mildest form of -hilarity, he was at once on the spot with some painfully repressing -commonplace. It was as though he were constantly murmuring, "Children, -remember what has happened! This is not an occasion for unseemly -mirth!" and in spite of all efforts the conversation drifted into a -channel which would have been considered unnecessarily depressing at a -funeral. - -Miles aided and abetted his father after his own fashion. His asides to -Nora were marked by pungent humour and sarcasm. Inquiries after Wolff's -tailor, and whether it was the fashion in Germany to wear one's tie at -"that angle," were varied with shocked appeals that "that fellow might -be told to put his knife and fork together when he had finished eating, -and not leave it sprawling about his plate like a yokel!" - -Nora never retorted. She felt the uselessness of explaining that the -Germans were different, but not on that account worse; but she felt like -an enraged tigress who sees her cub attacked by brutal, clumsy hands. -She did not see that Wolff, unaccustomed to such things, had struggled -in vain with a refractory evening tie, nor that the cut of his coat was -scarcely of the latest fashion. She saw first and foremost that he was -a man and a gentleman, and her love and respect for him kindled in the -same measure that her love for her father and brother diminished. There -were moments during Wolff's fortnight visit when she came to hate both, -so intensely did she resent their attitude towards her future husband. -The Rev. John, thanks to Mrs. Ingestre, remained formal and polite to -Wolff's face. Behind his back he displayed an all-damning charity. - -"Of course, we must not judge a foreigner by our standards," he would -say pathetically, "and I daresay he is well-meaning, but I wish, my poor -child----" - -He would then break off, and look out of the window with an expression -full of the most moving pity and regret. - -Miles, fortified with the knowledge of exams. passed and a dawning -manhood, was not so reserved in his opinions. - -"I can't think what you see in him, Nora!" he once said condescendingly. -"He is a regular out-and-out German, and his hat-doffing and -hand-kissing make me sick. I wish he would take himself and his beastly -polish back to his own country." - -Whereby it will be seen that "beastly polish" was not one of Miles -Ingestre's weaknesses. - -On the whole, Wolff more than held his own. Although unaffected and -modest as far as his own person was concerned, he was much too deeply -imbued with the traditional conception of his social position to feel -anything but calm amusement at the ungraciousness of his two hosts. As -an officer in the King's army, and as a scion of an old and noble race, -he felt himself secure against contempt even in a foreign country where -such things did not count. For him they counted everywhere--they upheld -him and lent him an imperturbable _savoir faire_ where another man would -have shown temper or resentment. Nevertheless, the fortnight was not a -very happy one. The unspoken knowledge that Wolff was not "approved of" -weighed upon Nora and himself as a fact which both recognised but felt -wiser to ignore. They were ill at ease even when alone--Nora because -she was ashamed of her own people, Wolff because he knew she was -ashamed, and could do nothing to help her. Consequently they were -happiest when together with Mrs. Ingestre. Her grace of manner and -openly expressed affection for her future son-in-law lifted the shadow -between them, and the hours spent at her side counted amongst the most -unclouded. - -There were constant "visits" during Wolff's stay. From the inevitable -Mrs. Clerk, who, in spite of strong disapproval, could not refrain from -gushing over the German Baron to the Manor people, who were ponderously -and haughtily critical, the whole of Delford came up for the inspection. -Of course, it was a "formal" inspection. "Informal inspections" had -been held in church, and when Wolff had cantered through Delford on a -borrowed horse, which Miles had hopefully but mistakenly prophesied -would "buck him over the first hedge." On the latter occasion it is -possible that more than one feminine heart was stirred to unacknowledged -admiration for the bronzed face and splendid figure, and even Miles was -compelled to the sulky confession that "the fellow could ride." - -Thus the days passed, and, except in one long interview with the Rev. -John, Wolff and Nora's marriage was treated as a tabooed subject. That -interview, revealing as it did not very brilliant financial prospects, -reduced the rev. gentleman to even deeper depression, and the hope of a -definite settlement seemed all too far off. It was then that Mrs. -Ingestre threw in the casting vote of her influence. A few days before -Wolff's departure she called him to her, and the two were alone together -for a long hour. In that hour Wolff learnt to know more of Mrs. -Ingestre's life and character than Nora had done in all the years at her -mother's side. In her desire to help her daughter to happiness, all -other considerations were forgotten, and Mrs. Ingestre revealed -unconsciously to Wolff's more experienced eyes a profound, if resigned, -grief over her own life, stifled and clogged as it had been in her -husband's atmosphere. In the quiet room her voice sounded peculiarly -earnest, almost impressive. - -"I need not tell you, my dear Wolff," she said, "that my husband is -against your marriage with Nora. You must know that already. He has -other ideas of happiness and suitability, and I can scarcely blame him, -since they were once mine. Like him, I once saw in long acquaintance, -similarity in ideas, and, of course, nationality, a certain wealth and -position, the best foundations for a happy and successful life. Like -him, I would probably have thought that you were not rich enough to -marry, that you had not known each other long enough, that the -difference of nationality and upbringing would be too great a -stumbling-block. I have learnt since those days to think differently. -The circumstances make little difference either way, so long as a great -love is there. And, after all, what is a great love?" For the first -time her tone was tinged with a faint cynicism. "Who can dare to call -their love really great until they are on their deathbeds? We cannot be -sure of our love, whether the object be well known to us or not, until -it has been tried by the fires of years and custom. Custom is the -hardest trial of all, and that is why I am glad rather than sorry that -you and Nora know each other so little. It is because you know each -other so little that you are in love, for being in love is simply the -charm of standing before the closed, mysterious door of another's -personality, and knocking for it to open. When the door opens, you will -cease to be in love, but I believe that, because you are both worthy of -it, you will find the all-enduring love waiting for you. At any rate, -it seems to me the chances are as great for you as for those who, -knowing each other too well, have never known the charm. Wolff, I am an -old woman in suffering if not in years, and I think age and youth often -join hands over the experience of middle life. Youth believes it is -better to be truly happy for an hour and to suffer through all eternity -rather than enjoy years of placid, passionless content. And that is what -I have also come to believe. I would rather Nora enjoyed a brief but -complete union with you than a lifetime of 'living together' with -another man. Besides, I trust you; I believe you to be a good man, as I -believe Nora to be a good woman, and I hope that in the afterwards you -will learn to love each other. As to the question of nationality and -wealth, they spell struggle and sacrifice for you both, Wolff. As a -woman Nora will bring the greatest sacrifice, but I know that you will -help her." - -"With all my strength." - -"And you will have patience?" - -He looked at her wonderingly. - -"Sometimes you will need it, Wolff. But Nora is brave and good. She -will learn to love your country because she loves you. For my part--I -am glad that she is leaving Delford far behind her." - -Wolff made no answer. He felt that the words were an almost unconscious -outburst, that unknowingly she had spoken of herself. After a moment -she went on with a quiet smile: - -"So, you see, I am on your side. So long as I am on your side, there is -nothing for either of you to fear. If anything should happen----" - -"I pray that I shall never give you cause to take your trust away from -me!" Wolff broke in. - -Mrs. Ingestre shook her head. - -"I was not thinking of that possibility," she said. "I was thinking that -if Nora stood alone--without me--the fight against her father's wishes -might be harder. I know she would hold to you, but it would be at a -bitter cost. That is why I wish for you to marry soon--as soon as -possible." - -Something in her tone affected Wolff painfully. He looked at her, and -for the first time he saw that this woman was suffering intensely, -silently, with a smile on her lips and unconquered life in her eyes. - -"Mrs. Ingestre!" he exclaimed. - -She took his hand and pressed it. - -"I think you know," she said, "and if I tell you what I have withheld, -and shall withhold, from every living being, it is because I wish you to -clearly understand my reasons. I cannot live very long, and before it -is too late I want to see Nora in your care. Can you promise that my -wish shall be granted?" - -He made no effort to pity or express his grief. There was something -masculine in her calm which held him silent, but in that moment his love -for Nora strengthened because one woman had lifted her whole sex with -her to the highest summit of his man's ideal. He lifted her hand -reverently to his lips. - -"God knows I promise willingly," he said. - -Thus Wolff von Arnim went back to his own country, and in April, four -months later, came again, but not alone. Frau von Arnim accompanied -him, and Delford awoke from its lethargy to the thrilling, gossip-giving -occasion of a wedding. The ugly church was made beautiful with all the -flowers which Mrs. Ingestre's garden and the neighbouring town could -provide, the village choir produced its best anthem with deafening, -ear-rending enthusiasm, and every inhabitant turned out to gape at the -"Baron" and the elegant woman who--it was scarcely to be believed!--was -actually a German. In truth, Frau von Arnim's elegance and air of -_grande dame_ upset not only Delford's preconceived notions but the Rev. -John's attitude as the condescending party in an obvious _mésalliance_. -The "German woman" frightened him, and his position was rendered the -more difficult by his wife, who chose to take a decided liking for this -new guest and to treat her as a welcome relation. Altogether, on the -day of the wedding the poor gentleman was fairly carried off his feet by -the foreign invasion. Not only Frau von Arnim, but even the despised -Wolff became a personage beside whom it was not easy to appear with -dignity. The latter had discarded the ungainly efforts of the Karlsburg -civilian tailor, and though the Delfordites, who, in spite of a strong -anti-military spirit, had had secret hopes of being regaled with flying -plumes and glittering epaulettes, were somewhat disappointed with his -frock-coat, his height and the fact that he was "a real foreigner" -successfully withdrew every particle of attention from the Rev. John's -moving address. - -In all the church there were perhaps only three people for whom the -ceremony had any other significance than that of an interesting show, -and none of them were listening to the Rev. John. Mrs. Ingestre was -praying for the future in which she was doomed to have no share. Wolff -and Nora thanked God for the present, which was theirs and which seemed -but a foretaste of the future. Both had forgotten the trials and -disappointments of the last four months, or if they thought of them at -all it was as of obstacles triumphantly surmounted. - -In Nora all that had grown hard and bitter softened into an -all-embracing tenderness. Her love for her father and brother -revived--even Delford and its inhabitants appeared to her in the -beautiful light of farewell. She knew she was leaving everything, if -not for ever, at least for ever as her home, and as she walked by her -husband's side down the narrow churchyard path her heart throbbed with a -sudden pain. After all, it was England she was leaving--and she was -English no longer! Then she looked up at Wolff, and their eyes met, and -the pain had died as though at the touch of some mysterious healing -hand. - -"How I love you!" she thought. - -At the door of her old home Frau von Arnim was the first to greet her. -Perhaps the elder woman's instinct had guessed the moment's pain, for -she took Nora in her arms and kissed her with an unusual tenderness. - -"We will try and make you happy in your new country," she whispered. -"You must not be afraid." - -But Nora was no longer afraid, and her eyes were bright with a fearless -confidence in the future as she returned the embrace. - -"I _am_ happy!" she said. "I have everything that I care for in the -world." - -She ran quickly upstairs and changed into her simple travelling-dress. -Mrs. Ingestre, she knew, was resting in her room, and the desire to be -alone with her mother for a last moment was strong in Nora's heart. In -her supreme happiness she did not forget those whom she loved; rather -her love had strengthened, and towards her mother it was mingled with an -endless gratitude. Yet when she crept into the little room she found it -empty and silent. Mrs. Ingestre had gone back to her guests, and for a -moment Nora stood looking about her, overwhelmed by the tide of tender -memories from a past which already seemed so far off. The invalid's -sofa, her own special chair where she had sat in those peaceful -afternoons when they had been alone together, her mother's table--Nora -drew closer. Something lying on the polished surface had attracted her -attention. Hardly knowing why, she picked it up. It was a letter -addressed to her at Karlsburg, and the handwriting was familiar. Nora -did not stop to think. She tore the envelope open and read the first -few lines of the contents with the rapidity of indifference. Her -thoughts were elsewhere, and the words and the writing had at first no -meaning. And then suddenly, as though she had been roughly awakened -from a dream, she understood what it was she held. It was from Robert -Arnold, and it was a love-letter. - -She read the first page over and over again. She felt stunned and -sickened. Her mind refused to grasp what had happened. - -"My darling," Robert had written two months before, from some far-off -African village, "a miracle has happened! Your letter has come! It -must have missed me at Aden, and had followed me from place to place -until at last it has reached my hands. And all these months I have been -thinking that you had no answer for me, or at the most the one I feared. -Nora, need you ask me if I will take what you have to offer? I love -you, dear, and I know my love will awaken yours and that I shall make -you happy. My whole life shall thank you for the trust you have given -me. I can hardly write for my joy, and the time that must elapse before -I can see you seems intolerable. I cannot return for at least two or -three months, as I have promised a friend to accompany him on an inland -expedition, but when that is over I shall make full steam for home--or, -rather, to Germany if you are still there. In the meantime, write to -me, dearest. Even though weeks may pass before the letters reach me, -yet the knowledge that they are there waiting will give me hope and -courage. I am sending this letter to the coast by a native carrier. -Heaven knows if it will ever reach you, but..." - -Nora looked up, conscious that she was no longer alone. Wolff stood in -the doorway, dressed for departure, his hands outstretched. - -"Are you ready, _kleine Frau_?" he said. "We are all waiting for -you----" He broke off, and took a quick step towards her. "Nora!" he -exclaimed. "How pale you are! What is the matter?" - -It seemed to her that a full minute must have elapsed before she brought -her lips to move, but in reality she answered almost immediately: - -"It is nothing--nothing whatever. I am quite ready--I will come now." - -Outwardly pale and calm, she had lost all inner self-possession, and in -a kind of frenzied fear was tearing the letter into a thousand pieces. -She had no thought for the future; blindly and instinctively she was -saving herself from the present. - -Wolff watched her in puzzled silence. Then, when the last fragment fell -to the ground, he came and took her hands. - -"Nora, something _is_ wrong. Did that letter trouble you? What was -it?" - -"No, no. If it is anything, it is just the thought of leaving them all. -Surely you understand?" - -Poor Nora! That "some day" when she had thought to tell him everything -had become a "never," sealed and made irrevocable by a silence and a -lie. Poor Wolff! He thought he understood. He put his arms tenderly -about her. - -"Yes, I understand. I know you have given up everything for my sake. -But, oh, Nora, God helping us, we shall be so happy!" - -He waited, and then, as she did not speak, went on gently: - -"Can you bear to come now? Is your love big enough to give up all that -is past, to start afresh--a new life with me in a new home, a new -country? Is it too great a sacrifice to ask, Nora?" - -His words acted like a strong charm. She thought they were prophetic, -and her reckless despair changed into a more reckless happiness. She -lifted her face to his, and her eyes were triumphant. - -"It is no sacrifice," she said. "My love for you can perform miracles. -It has made your people my people, your God my God, and it can wipe out -the past--everything--and leave nothing in my life but you! Take me -with you, Wolff. I am quite, quite ready!" - -He led her proudly and happily from the room, and afterwards from the -house that had been her home. - -But, little as she knew it, no miracle had been performed in Nora's -life. - - - - END OF BOOK I - - - - - *BOOK II* - - - *CHAPTER I* - - *THE NEW HOME* - - -"My dear," said Frau von Seleneck, bustling into her husband's study, -"is it true that the Arnims have arrived? I heard something about it -yesterday from Clara, but she was not certain, and I want to know. Of -course they ought to call first, but as one of the regiment, we don't -need to stand on ceremony. Besides, I want to see his wife." - -"And his flat, and his furniture, and his cook, and her dresses," Herr -von Seleneck added, with a chuckle. "Yes; call by all means. They -arrived some days ago, and have a flat in the Adler Strasse. You had -better go this morning." - -"I thought you had duty?" - -"So I have." Kurt von Seleneck stretched himself, and his eyes -twinkled. "You can make that my excuse for not accompanying you on your -first visit. You don't need to pretend to me, after five years of -married life, that you really want me to come with you, because you know -you don't. Just think of the things you can talk about if I am not -there! Just think how wretchedly _de trop_ I should be between you two, -and let me go--this time, at least." - -"You would have Wolff to talk to," Frau von Seleneck said, trying to -draw her round, rosy face into lines of disappointment. "You must have -a lot to say to each other." - -"Thank you!" her husband retorted, preparing to exchange his undress -_Litewka_ for the blue coat which a stolid orderly was holding in -readiness. "Wolff and I will have opportunities enough, and the prospect -of being sent away 'to talk' like children whilst you two women exchange -confidences is too humiliating. Go alone, my dear." - -Frau von Seleneck, having attained her object, proceeded to raise all -sorts of objections. - -"I think it is mean of you to desert me, Kurt," she said. "Frau von -Arnim probably can't speak a word of German, and my English is as rusty -as it can be. I haven't spoken it for years and years. We shall have -to play Dumb Crambo or something, and I shall die of nervousness." - -"I hope not," Seleneck said, who was now busy with the gloves she had -laid out for him. "No doubt you are too modest, and your English only -needs a little polish to reach perfection. At any rate, you can but -try, and, as far as I know, Frau von Arnim can help things along with -her German. She has been in Karlsburg ever since May, and ought to have -picked up something of the language." - -"Oh, if it comes to that, I dare say I shall manage quite well," said -Frau von Seleneck, who was secretly very proud of her English, "but I -wish she were _erne gute Deutsche_. I can't think why Wolff married an -Englishwoman. All English people are dreadful. I had an English -governess who frightened me to death. At meal times she used to keep up -a fire of unpleasant criticism, and glare at me as though I were a sort -of heathen monstrosity. 'Elsa, don't bolt your food! You eat like a -wolf! Your manners would disgrace a bricklayer!' I simply hated her, -and I hate all English people. They are so rude and stiff and -_ungemtlich_. One sees that they despise everybody except themselves, -and one wonders how they manage it." - -Her husband laughed good-naturedly. - -"I don't think they are as bad as you paint them," he said. "I believe -some of them are quite decent fellows, and Frau von Arnim is, I know, -charming. At any rate, do your best to be agreeable; there's a kind -soul. I expect she will feel rather forlorn at first." - -Frau von Seleneck bridled with indignation. - -"Of course I shall be agreeable! If she doesn't freeze me, I shall do -everything I can to make her feel she is one of us. At least----" she -hesitated, "I suppose she is one of us, isn't she? Who was she before -she married Wolff?" - -"My dear, if you knew you wouldn't be much the wiser," Seleneck said, -preparing for departure. "English people are different. I believe it is -quite an honour to marry a rich tea-merchant--or a rich anybody, for -that matter. As far as I know, Frau von Arnim was a parson's daughter, -and quite good family. The fact that Wolff married her and has been -able to stay in the Army is guarantee enough." - -Elsa von Seleneck looked relieved. - -"Of course!" she said. "How stupid of me! Well, I shall go and see what -I can do to help her. I expect she is in frightful trouble with her -servants. I know I am." - -She accompanied her husband to the door of their flat, brushed an -imaginary speck of dust off his uniform, kissed him and rushed to the -window to wave him a last farewell as he rode off down the quiet street. -Until eleven o'clock she busied herself with her household matters, then -arrayed herself in her best clothes and set off on the proposed voyage -of discovery. - -The Adler Strasse lay at some considerable distance, and Frau von -Seleneck was both hot and exhausted by the time she reached the -unpretentious little house where the Arnims had taken up their quarters. -She had not made use of the trams, because if you start taking trams in -Berlin you can spend a fortune, and she had no fortune to spend. -Moreover, she was a rotund little person, with a dangerous tendency to -stoutness, and exercise therefore was a good excuse for saving the -pfennige. Certainly she had exercise enough before she reached the -Arnims' flat. It was on the top floor, and even for Frau von Seleneck's -taste, which was not that of a pampered millionaire, the stairs were -unusually steep and narrow and smelly. From the tiny landing where the -visitor sought room to wait patiently for the opening of the hall door, -it was possible to make a close guess at the various dinners which were -being prepared in all four flats. Boiled vegetables formed the staple -odour, and as, according to the unwritten law which governs German -flats, all the staircase windows were hermetically sealed, it was very -noticeable indeed. Not that this troubled Frau von Seleneck in the -least. What did trouble her was the obstinate silence which greeted her -vigorous application of the electric bell. At last, after one -exceptionally determined peal, the door was cautiously opened, and Frau -von Seleneck found herself welcomed by a girl who stared at her with an -amusing mixture of alarm and indignation, Frau von Seleneck's inner -comment was to the point. - -"Pretty servants are always a trouble," she thought. "This one will -certainly be having love affairs with the Bursche. I shall warn Frau -von Arnim at once." - -Aloud she inquired if the _gnädige Frau_ was at home. To her surprise, -a deep flush mounted the "servant's" cheeks and dyed the white forehead -to the roots of the somewhat disordered brown hair. The door was opened -a fraction wider. - -"I am the _gnädige Frau_," a low voice said shame-facedly, in a nervous, -broken German. "My--my cook has gone out, and so----" - -Frau von Seleneck held out both her hands. - -"Why, of course!" she cried in English. "How stupid of me! I am -terribly short-sighted, you know, or I should not make so silly a -mistake. I am Frau von Seleneck--the wife of your husband's old -comrade. I should have had the joy of meeting you in Karlsburg, but I -was ill at the time--and better late than never, as you English say. I -have come now to tell you "Willkommen in the Fatherland!" - -Her English came in an almost unintelligible rush, but the tone was so -warmhearted and friendly, that poor Nora, who believed she had brought -everlasting disgrace upon herself and the whole family, was humbly -thankful to open the drawing-room door and usher in her unexpected -visitor. - -"I don't know what you must think of me," she said, "but just at present -we have only one servant, and she has gone out. It seems the -tradespeople don't come for orders, and I am much too inexperienced, and -know far too little German to go shopping alone." - -In her unhappiness at having opened the door, she forgot to offer Frau -von Seleneck a chair; but the latter, at heart only too thankful to find -the freezing "Engländerin" in so human a fluster, took possession of the -centre of the little sofa, and began the work of reassurance. - -"That is nothing whatever in the world, dear Frau von Arnim," she said -cheerfully. "I often open the door myself, and if anybody takes me for -my cook, what does that make? It prove that the person does not belong -to my circle, and if he does not belong to my circle it makes nothing -what he thinks." - -During this exposition of uncontrovertible logic she had been making a -rapid mental catalogue of the furniture. Nora saw the wandering eyes, -and her humiliation deepened. - -"I am afraid the room is horribly untidy," she confessed, wondering if -the time would ever come when she would be able to stop apologising and -begin a normal conversation. "You see, we have only been in a few days, -and I have not got everything in its place. I hope soon it will look a -little better." - -She spoke rather despondently, because she felt the cheap little suite -of plush furniture gave no great hopes of "looking better," even with -the most careful arrangement, and she was sure that the fact was obvious -to all. Very much to her surprise, therefore, her visitor broke into a -panegyric of praise. - -"It is all charming!" she said, looking about her very much as though -she were in a gallery of art-treasures. "I do not see how it could be -better. And how good have you chose the colours! The chairs are almost -the same tint as the paper, aren't they?--not quite, perhaps, but -nearly. And the curtains are exquisite. How I envy you! When you come -to see us, you will say, 'Ach! how is all old and shady!' and you will -pity us long-married people." - -"Perhaps you would like to see the other rooms?" Nora suggested, who had -never mastered the problem as to what one did with visitors who called -at twelve o'clock in the morning. Frau von Seleneck expressed herself -more than willing, and a close inspection was made of the five -large-sized cupboards which served the Arnims as abode. - -"Really, one can hardly know which is the most delightful," Frau von -Seleneck declared at the end. "Everything is so tasty, as you English -say--so bijou." - -"A little stuffy, don't you think?" Nora said timidly. "I can never get -enough air, and the stairs are sometimes quite--unpleasant. Didn't you -notice it?" - -"_Ach, was!_" Frau von Seleneck exclaimed. "You should smell ours when -our down-below neighbours have their wash-day. Then you might complain. -But one must not complain. It is the greatest mistake possible--and so -ungrateful. Everything is so delightful, you know." - -"Yes, I suppose it is," Nora said hesitatingly. - -Frau von Seleneck gave a comfortable little laugh, and patted her on the -shoulder. - -"You don't think so, _Verehrteste_? You must do like I. Six days in -the week I thank _dem lieben Gott_ that my neighbours wash not, and the -seventh I think of my sins. That way I can almost enjoy the smell. And -after all, it is quite a little smell, and my sins are sometimes----" -She spread out her arms to indicate an immeasurable immensity, and Nora -laughed. Her visitor's good spirits were so infectious that she forgot -her futile discussion with the cook, and the impenetrable stupidity of -the Bursche, and began to believe that everything really was -"delightful." - -"I will think of your advice next time I want to grumble," she said, as -they re-entered the drawing-room. "Perhaps it will help me over some bad -moments." - -Frau von Seleneck took her hand, and, to Nora's surprise, embraced her -affectionately. - -"That is why I am here," she said. "The others--the _Spitzen_, superior -officers and wives, you know--you will have to visit first. But I -thought I could help you. I am such an old soldier." She laughed -again, and then became suddenly thoughtful. "Have you yet called upon -the Mayos?" she asked. - -"No," Nora answered abruptly. - -"Then you must do so at once--they are important people, and Major von -Mayo is your husband's direct superior. You know, at the beginning it -is important that you should offend no one--one cannot be too -particular." - -"I met Frau von Mayo in Karlsburg," Nora said. "I did not like her--she -was rude and ill-mannered." - -Frau von Seleneck's eyes twinkled. - -"She is always so," she said. "One gets accustomed." - -"I do not think that I should 'get accustomed,'" Nora retorted, with -heightened colour. "At any rate, I shall not call." - -"You----" Frau von Seleneck gasped, and her eyes distended with -unaffected horror. "_Aber, du lieber Gott im Himmel!_--you cannot mean -what you say, you do not know----" she choked. "_Es ist unmöglich!_" -she decided, as though addressing an unreasonable deity. - -"I don't see why it is _unmöglich_," Nora said. "There is no purpose in -calling on people whom I do not want to know. I told Wolff so." - -"Ah, you have told your husband! And what did he say?" - -Nora hesitated. She remembered now that Wolff had looked troubled, and -the remembrance caused her a sudden uneasiness. - -"He said I could do as I liked," she said slowly. - -"Ah, the young husbands!" Frau von Seleneck threw up her hands. "What -folly! It must not be. You must call on the Mayos--on everybody. You -must not show that you hate or that you love. You must be the same to -all--gracious, smiling--though you may want to scratch their eyes out. -You must remember we are all comrades." - -"Comrades! I do not want Frau von Mayo as a comrade!" Nora cried -indignantly. - -Frau von Seleneck bent forward, and her voice sank to a mysterious -whisper. - -"Nor do any of us. I tell you in secret--she is a hateful person. But -we must not let her see--it is our duty to pretend." - -"Why?" Nora demanded uncompromisingly. - -"For our husbands' sake--it does not do to have ill-feeling between the -wives. Then the husbands quarrel, and there must be no ill-feeling -between comrades." - -Nora shook her head. - -"I'm afraid I'm no good at pretending," she said. - -"But you will try--for your good Wolff's sake? See, I will help you--if -you will let me." - -Nora took the outstretched hand. Her moment's anger had gone--dispersed -by the simple appeal "for Wolff's sake." - -"You are very good to me," she said gratefully, "and I will try and do -what is right. Everything is so new and strange to me." - -"I know, I know. But you will see--all will go so smooth--so smooth. -One day I will go with you to the Mayos. I have my little English, and -that will make it easier. My poor English!" She gave another of her -comfortable chuckles. "He is so very bad." - -"Oh, not at all!" Nora hastened to reassure her politely. "It is really -quite good--considering. I can understand everything you say." - -There was a rather sudden silence, and to her alarm Nora observed that -her visitor's pink cheeks had turned a bright scarlet, and that there -was a look of almost childish disappointment in the large brown eyes. -"What have I done?" Nora thought, and then, before she had time to -fathom the mystery, the good-natured little woman had recovered her -equanimity as suddenly as she had lost it. - -"You and I must be great friends," she said. "Our husbands are -so--great friends, and then, of course, you belong to the regiment--at -least"--she corrected herself hastily, and almost apologetically--"your -husband is on the Staff now, and will make a brilliant career, whilst my -poor _Mann_ has only a year's _Kommando_. Still, you _did_ belong to -the regiment, did you not? And that always makes a bond." - -"Of course," Nora said. She was a little overwhelmed by the respect -which this vastly older and wiser personage displayed towards her, and -for the first time she realised that she had married a man on whom the -military world already cast eyes of interest and envy. "I should only -be too grateful for your friendship," she went on. "I know no one here, -and Berlin is so big and strange to me. When Wolff is on duty I feel -quite lost." - -"And a leetle _Heimweh_?" Frau von Seleneck suggested quickly. "I know -not what the word is in English, but it is a terrible pain. I have it -here"--she put her hand to her heart--"every year, once for two months, -when Kurt is in the manoeuvres, and I weep--I weep whole buckets full." - -Nora started. - -"Two months!" she said, horror-struck. "And will Wolff be away all that -time?" - -"_Aber natürlich, liebes Kind_! Even your Wolff will not be excused -again. The Emperor has no heart for the poor wives. But you must not -complain. You must laugh and be happy--at any rate, until your husband -has gone. I always send mine away with a big smile, and tell him I am -glad to be rid of him. Afterwards I weep. It is a great comfort to -weep, but men like not tears. It makes them uncomfortable, and besides, -one must not make their duty harder than it is." - -"Of course not," Nora said bravely. "I shall do all I can to help him. -And one can write lots of letters, can't one?" - -"Every day, and twice a day," declared her visitor cheerily, as she -arose. "Ach, you will be a good soldier's wife soon. And now I must go -and see that my silly Bertha has not put all the salt-box in the soup. -But if you will let me I will come again, and bring my Kurt with me. He -was dying to come this time, but I would have none of him. Men are such -a nuisance, _nicht wahr_! And then you must come and see us, and we -will talk German together, and you shall know all my friends, and we -will help each other like _gute Kameraden_." - -A warm, hurried embrace, and plump, smiling-faced Frau von Seleneck was -out of the room and on the tiny landing. A last pressure of the hand, a -hearty "_Aufwiedersehen!_" and she had disappeared into a foggy -atmosphere of pea-soup and Sauerkraut. - -Nora went back into the disordered little drawing-room, and set to work -with a new will. The spirit of cheery content and selflessness had been -left sitting on the sofa, and it seemed to chuckle in a peculiar, fat, -comfortable way as Nora pushed the chairs backwards and forwards in the -vain attempt to induce an air of elegance. - -"Even if she does admire the furniture, and think the flat perfection, -she has a good, kind heart," Nora thought. "I am glad we are going to -be friends." - -She began to hum to herself, and when in an unusually untidy corner she -found a pair of Wolff's _dritte Garnitur_ gloves, she picked them up and -kissed them. There was so much sunlight and love in her heart that -smells and stuffiness and ugly furniture were forgotten, and she -triumphed in the knowledge that she was, without exception, the happiest -woman in the world. - - - - - *CHAPTER II* - - *--AND THE NEW LIFE* - - -Nora sank with a triumphant sigh into her favourite arm-chair by the -window. The much-dreaded visit to the Mayos was an accomplished fact, -the day's household work at an end, and for a breathing-space she was at -liberty to enjoy the luxury of an unobserved idleness. Dusk had set in, -and dusk is the time of memories and dreams. And this evening Nora -recalled the near past. She could not have explained why of late her -thoughts reverted so constantly to the glowing period which had stood, -as it were, beyond the first entry of her marriage and divided it from -the dull grey of everyday life. The glorious month in the Black Forest, -the visit to Karlsburg, the princely reception by her husband's old -regiment, the military serenades, the military visits, the endless flood -of bouquets from _Kameraden_ the wild enthusiasm of poor little Fräulein -Müller, who felt as though "it were my own wedding-day, you know, -_liebes Kind_," and behaved as though such were really the case, the -happy hours with Hildegarde and her mother--all this awoke in Nora's -memory like some brilliant, intoxicating dream in whose reality she -could scarcely believe. Then had come the house-hunting--or, rather, -flat-hunting in the stifling heat of a Berlin July, and at last -this--the slow settling down to her new life. - -Nora sighed. She was feeling very tired and possibly slightly -depressed. In truth, she was very often depressed in that hour which -divided the close of her day's duties and Wolff's return, and sometimes -there was even a touch of irritability in her depression. The constant -round of "teas," the constant meeting of the same people, the constant -repetitions, the unfailing discussions on _Dienst_ and -_Dienstangelegenheiten_ wearied her to exasperation. Some of the women -she liked, some she tolerated, some she hated; but, hated or loved or -tolerated, these women formed her "circle," from which there was no -possible escape. On the whole, she bore the burden of their good-natured -dullness with apparent equanimity, so that Frau von Seleneck had told -her, with the satisfaction of a successful monitor, that she was really -"one of them." But there were also moments when weariness overcame her -determined courage, and only the rallying-cry "For Wolff's sake" could -bring light to her eyes. They were for the most part lonely moments, -when she wandered about the tiny flat seeking some occupation which -would help to pass the time till Wolff's return, or when _Kriegspiel_ -carried him away in the evenings and left her to solitude, a vague -home-sickness--and fear. For fear had not been altogether banished from -Nora's life, though she held it under with a firm hand. It haunted her -now as she sat there watching the lights spring up in the windows -opposite; it asked her what had happened, and what might still happen; -it reminded her of the man she had deceived. No, not deceived. After -all, she had offered her life, not her love, to Robert Arnold, because -he had needed her, and because she in her turn had needed him as a -barrier between herself and the man she really loved. When the barrier -had proved useless she had flung it aside, and she knew that if she -could live over again that hour when Wolff von Arnim had come to her -with love and happiness in his hands, she would not act otherwise than -she had done. And to Robert Arnold she had offered the one possible -atonement--she had told him the truth. He had not answered her, and she -had tried to put him out of her life, regretfully and remorsefully, as a -friend whom she had wronged beyond forgiveness. Nevertheless, the power -to forget had not been granted her. Memory, like some old mythological -Fury seeking an expiatory sacrifice, haunted her and would haunt her, as -she knew, until such time as the sacrifice was paid. And the sacrifice -was a confession to her husband--an impossibility, since her lips were -sealed by a lie and by the fear of losing that which was most precious -to her--his love. - -"But there shall be no more secrets in my life," she thought as she -heard his step on the stairs outside, and perhaps at the bottom of her -heart there lurked a superstitious hope that Nemesis had heard her -promise and accepted it as an atonement. The next minute she was in her -husband's arms, and Nemesis, conscience, Robert Arnold, and all the -petty trials of the day were forgotten, overwhelmed by a passionate joy -which filled her heart and the dusky room with sunshine. - -"Why, Nora!" he exclaimed. "You are like a little hobgoblin, springing -at one out of the shadows. What have you been doing all alone in the -dark?" - -"Dreaming--and waiting for you," she answered gaily. "Wait a moment -till I have lit the lamp. I had forgotten that weary warriors do not -care for the dim religious light which goes with dreaming." - -He sank down into his chair with a tired sigh of contentment and watched -her as she busied about the room, putting away his gloves and the -officer's cap which he had thrown upon the table. There was no trace of -depression in her face, nor, indeed, in her heart--only an almost -childish happiness, and gradually the lines of worry and exhaustion -faded from about the man's strong mouth. - -"How good it is to come home, Nora!" he said under his breath. "When I -think of how I used to feel after a long day's work--why, I can't -imagine how I existed." - -"Do I make all the difference?" - -"All the difference, my little wife." - -She came and kissed him, and then stood looking down into his face with -tender concern. - -"You look so tired. Has anything been worrying you?" - -"No, nothing--only the head-work is rather a strain. One has to give -mind and soul to it; there is no slacking possible, even if one were -inclined that way." - -"Which you are not, you terrible man of iron and blood! Sometimes I am -quite jealous of your work: I believe you love it more than you do me." - -"It is my duty," he answered gravely. And then, after a moment, he -added in a lighter tone, "By the way, an old friend of yours has arrived -in Berlin." - -Nora started. - -"Who?" - -"Bauer!" - -She was conscious of a sensation of relief as reasonless as it was -acute. Of what had she been afraid? She herself could not have told. - -"I used to look upon that man as my evil genius," she said gaily, "but -now I think he must have been sent as an angel in disguise. If it had -not been for him I should not have known you loved me--do you -remember--that day, in the forest?" - -"I am never likely to forget," he answered, with a sudden movement of -pain. "When I think what might have happened to you----" - -"You mustn't think. Nothing _did_ happen to me--or only something nice. -But now you must listen to my news. Imagine what I have done to-day?" - -"Nora, is that fair? Do you really expect my exhausted brains to tackle -a problem like that!" - -"Don't be rude! Think--I have called on the whole family Mayo, and been -so polite and amiable that her ladyship only found it in her heart to be -rude once. What have you to say to that?" - -"What have I to say?" He took her hand and kissed it. "Thank you, -dear." - -She looked at him in surprise. - -"Why, Wolff, does it mean so much to you?" - -"Yes, a good deal. You see--one gets a bad name if one neglects certain -people." - -"Then why didn't you insist?" - -He hesitated, avoiding her eyes. - -"I didn't want to bother you more than I could help. Sometimes I am -afraid it must be very hard on you, little woman." - -Intuitively she guessed his thoughts, and without a word she gathered up -some sheets of closely written notepaper lying on the table and thrust -them into his hands. - -"There, read that, you extremely foolish husband of mine!" she cried -triumphantly. "I have been writing home, so you can judge for -yourself." - -He obeyed, and she stood watching him, knowing that he could but be -satisfied. Indeed, her letters home were full of her happiness and of -Wolff--the two things were synonymous--and if she did not mention that -their home was small and stuffy, that she did most of the household work -herself, and that a strict, painful economy watched over every item of -their daily life, it was partly because she told herself that these -details played no part in her estimation and partly because she shrank -instinctively from the criticism which she knew would inevitably result. -She gave, instead, glowing descriptions of the dinner-parties, of the -whist-parties, even of the four-hour tea-parties with their unbroken -conversational circle of _Dienstangelegenheiten_ and "_Dienst-mädchen_." -And in all this there was no hypocrisy. Her momentary depression and -distaste were sub-conscious; she did not recognise them as such. She -called them "moods," which vanished like mists in the sunshine of her -husband's presence. - -"Well?" she demanded, as he put the letters aside. - -He shook his finger at her. - -"Frauchen, Frauchen!" he said, laughing, "I am afraid you are what -English people would call a humbug. From this epistle one would really -imagine that Frau von Seleneck had received you in a palace, and that -you had associated with all the _belles esprits_ in Berlin, instead -of--well, I imagine something very different. If I remember rightly, on -that particular evening I found a very pale-faced wife waiting for me, -with a bad headache and an apologetic description of an afternoon spent -in an overheated cupboard, with six other unhappy sufferers. And then -you sit down and write that you enjoyed yourself immensely. Oh, Nora, -Nora!" - -"I _did_ enjoy myself!" Nora affirmed, perching herself on the arm of -her chair. "You know very well that the anticipation of happiness is -almost as good as the thing itself, and every time that I felt I was -going to suffocate I thought of the evening we were to spend together -afterwards, and felt as happy as I have described myself. After all, -everything helps to pass the time till we are together again." - -He put his arm about her and was silent a moment, gazing thoughtfully -before him. Then he looked up at her. - -"It strikes me sometimes what a poor life I have to offer you, Nora," he -said abruptly. "I don't think I would have noticed it so much, had I -not seen your home. Poverty is such a relative conception. There are -hundreds of officers' wives who are no better off than you, and who -think themselves comfortably situated. But your father talked of -poverty, and lived--for our ideas--like a lord. When I compare things I -feel as though I had wronged you, and tempted you into a life of -sacrifice to which you were never born." - -Nora bent her head and kissed him. - -"You are a very foolish fellow!" she said. "If you were not so filled -with fortifications and tactics, you would know quite well that I would -rather live in a rabbit-hutch with my husband, than in a palace with a -prince." - -Arnim laughed, and it was obvious that her words had lifted a very real -burden from his mind. - -"I'm afraid you would never get your husband into a rabbit-hutch," he -said, with a self-satisfied glance at his own long, powerful limbs. -"Still, it is a comfort to know that you would be ready to make the -attempt. I think, though, if your people knew, and were not blinded by -a certain deceitful young person, they would feel very differently. I -think they would have a good many disagreeable things to say on the -subject of your German home. Don't you?" - -"No, I don't!" said Nora, privately determined that they should never -have the chance. "I think they would be very glad to see for themselves -how happy I am." - -Wolff drew a letter from the pocket of his _Litewka_, and handed it to -her. - -"In that case there seems every likelihood of them enjoying that -spectacle in the near future," he said. "I had this letter from your -father by the evening post. Read it and see what you think." - -Nora's beaming face clouded over somewhat. Letters from her father were -always a mixed pleasure, and Wolff's words had warned her that this -particular one contained something more than the usual condensed sermon. -Her supposition was correct. After a long-winded preamble, the Rev. -John plunged into the matter which was really on his mind. It appeared -that Miles, having broken down under the strain of his military duties, -had been granted a few months' leave, and it was proposed that he should -spend the time abroad--for the benefit of his education. And whither -was it more natural that he should go than to his own dear sister? - -"You can imagine," the Rev. John had written, "that apart from the fact -that we shall miss our boy terribly, the expense of the undertaking -weighs heavily upon our minds. I am prepared, however, to make every -possible sacrifice in order that he should obtain his wish, and am -anxious to know if you could help me. Being on the spot, you will know -best where and at what cost he could remain during his stay in your fine -capital and, as one of the family, I feel sure that we shall be able to -trust him to your care and surveillance. I should be most grateful, my -dear Wolff, if you would give me your reply as soon as possible, as -Miles is most eager to join you, and my wife, whose health, I regret to -say, is far from satisfactory, feels that it would be good for her to be -able to enjoy perfect quiet." - -Nora put the letter down. It was the first time that the Rev. John had -ever spoken of his son-in-law as "My dear Wolff" or admitted that he was -"one of the family," and Nora felt vaguely ashamed--so much so, that she -did not meet her husband's eyes, but sat twisting the carefully written -epistle into a torn screw, as though she would have preferred to throw -it in the fire, but was restrained by a sense of respect. - -"I have certainly overdone it with my descriptions," she admitted -frankly. "Miles is getting bored at home, and imagines that we can -procure a good time for him here. What are you going to do, Wolff?" - -"I think there is only one thing for us to do," Wolff answered, with a -somewhat grim smile, "and that is--our duty. I shall write to your -father and invite Miles to stay with us, so long as he is in Berlin." - -Nora got up. The movement was abrupt enough to suggest a sudden -disquiet amounting to actual fear, and her face had become crimson. - -"Wouldn't you like it, Nora?" her husband asked. He was watching her -keenly, and his gaze seemed to increase her uneasiness. - -"Miles is so young--a mere boy," she stammered. "We can't tell what -trouble he will get into. And besides, where have we to put him? We -have no room?" - -"There is the _Fremdenzimmer_," Wolff answered quietly; "and as to your -other objection, I can only say that at his age I was already -lieutenant, and free to govern my own life as I chose." - -"One can't compare you with Miles," Nora interposed. "I think your -people must have been able to trust you when you were in the cradle." - -Wolff laughed, but the gravity in his eyes remained unchanged. He got -up, and put his hands on Nora's shoulders. - -"You do not want your brother to come," he said. "Is it not a little -because you are ashamed--of the way we live?" - -Nora met his eyes steadily, but for a moment she was silent, deep in her -own thoughts. She was trying to find out exactly why a weight had -fallen upon her mind, why the atmosphere in the little room had become -close and stifling. Was it really shame, or was it something else--a -foreboding of resulting evil, too vague to be defined in words? - -"I want an answer, Nora," Wolff continued firmly. "The thought that you -might be hiding the truth from your people out of loyalty towards me is -intensely painful. Heaven knows, I would bring every possible -sacrifice----" - -"Hush!" Nora interrupted, and there was a curious note of sternness in -her young voice. "I hate to hear you talk like that. It sounds as -though _I_ had brought some sacrifice, or had lowered myself to become -your wife. I married you, Wolff, because I loved you, and because I -knew that you were the only man with whom I could be happy. You have -given me everything my most sanguine hopes could ask of life. That is -the truth. What more can I say?" - -He bent and kissed her. - -"Thank you, dear," he said. "Then I may write to your father?" - -"Yes--of course. I shall miss our quiet evenings alone, Wolff; but if -you think it right----" - -"I think there is nothing else for us to do," her husband answered. -"After all, I do not expect it will be for long. We must not be -selfish, dearest." - -Nora smiled cheerfully; but for the first time in her married life the -cheerfulness was forced. She could not shake off the feeling that a -change had come, and one which was to bring no good with it. - - - - - *CHAPTER III* - - *A MEETING* - - -Frau von Seleneck was engaged with her toilet before the looking-glass, -and Nora, seated in the place of honour on the sofa, watched her with a -critical interest. Hitherto she had not troubled herself much with the -dowdiness or the smartness of her friends' apparel; she had accepted the -general principle that "those sort of things did not matter so long as -everybody knew who you were"; but something or other had occurred of -late to change her attitude--a something which she had successfully -avoided analysing. Only when Frau von Seleneck drew on her white silk -mittens, Nora found herself wondering what Miles would think of her and, -indeed, of everything. Not that Miles's opinion was of the slightest -importance, but the possibility of criticism roused her to criticise; -she was beginning to consider her surroundings without the aid of -love-tinted glasses, and the results, if hitherto painless, were -somewhat disconcerting. - -"Now I am really ready!" Elsa von Seleneck declared, considering her -bemittened hands. "How do you like my dress, Nora?" She lifted the -ends of her mouse-coloured evening cloak and displayed herself with -complacency. "No one would believe I had had it three years. Frau von -Schilling said she thought it was quite a marvel. But you English have -such good taste--I should like to know what you think." - -Nora took a deep breath, and then, having seen the round, good-natured -face turn to her with an expression of almost wistful appeal, plunged. - -"I think it is a marvel, too," she said slowly. "I am so glad. You -know, the first year I had it it was cream, the second year mauve, the -third year black. Such a beautiful black, too! Of course, the -fashion----" she looked at the puff sleeves regretfully--"they are -rather out of date, are they not?" - -"That doesn't matter," Nora assured her. "The fashions are anyhow so -ugly----" she was going to add "here," but stopped in time. - -Frau von Seleneck laughed her comfortable laugh. It was one of her -virtues that she never gave or suspected offence. - -"Quite right, Norachen. How wonderfully sensible and practical you -English are--at least, I should not say 'You English,' for you are a -good German now, my dear!" It was evident that she had intended the -remark as a compliment, and Nora was annoyed with herself for her own -rather grim silence. "But there!" her friend went on with a sudden gust -of energy, "here I stand and chatter, and it is getting so late! If -there is one thing Her Excellency dislikes it is unpunctuality, and at -this rate we are certain to miss the tram. Now, isn't that annoying! -Bertha has hidden my goloshes again!" - -In response to a heated summons, the little maid-of-all-work made her -appearance, and after a long scramble around the hall hatstand the -required articles were discovered and donned. - -"Now I am _really_ ready!" Frau von Seleneck declared for the twentieth -time, and to confirm the statement proceeded to lead the way downstairs. -Nora followed resignedly. She knew that it was raining, and she knew -also that the very idea of taking a cab would be crushed instantly as a -heinous extravagance, so she gathered up the frail skirt of her chiffon -dress and prepared for the worst with a humorous despair. - -Fortunately, though they indeed missed the tram, the road to Her -Excellency Frau von Gersdorf's flat was not a long one, and only Nora's -temper suffered in the transit. And even that circumstance passed -unnoticed. Frau von Seleneck had walked very fast, and by the time they -had mounted the flight of stone stairs leading to their destination she -was hopelessly out of breath and in no mood to notice Nora's ruffled -condition. - -"Ah, but it is good to be arrived!" she sighed in English as she yielded -her cloak to the attendant housemaid. "Now, my dear!" - -The "now, my dear" was uttered in an awe-struck tone which suggested a -solemnal entry into the Imperial Presence, and Nora, following her lead -towards the drawing-room, experienced the bliss of a short-lived hope. -She knew that it was a great honour to be invited to "Her Excellency's -Evenings"; was it not possible that they might be different to the other -"evenings" which she knew so well? Was it not possible that she was to -see new faces and learn to know a brilliant world which she could show -to Miles without---- She did not finish the thought, and indeed the -hope had died at birth. - -The door was thrown open, and she found herself in a small library, -which appeared to form a kind of backwater for the two adjoining and -equally over-crowded rooms. Nora sighed. There was no one in that -moving stream whom she had not met before--the very sandwiches arranged -in symmetrical order on the table under the window seemed to welcome her -with the silent greeting of a long-established friendship. She knew -their history so well. Had she not made them herself as many times as -it had been her fate to give a so-called "evening"? As to the rest of -the company, there was the usual sprinkling of elderly officers and -their wives and an apparently limitless number of stray lieutenants who, -commanded temporarily to Berlin, had been brought together by the -natural law which unites exiles and outcasts. Her Excellency's son -himself belonged to a regiment stationed in a southern state--hence the -familiar "clique" which crowded his mother's rooms. Nora had seen -enough to resign all hope before their hostess bore down upon them. The -little old lady, who had been holding a veritable levee at the -folding-doors, displayed all the naïve cordiality which belonged to her -South German blood. - -"How good of you to come!" she exclaimed, taking Nora's hand between -both her own. "It is such a delightful evening--everybody is here, you -know. And where is Herr von Arnim?" - -Nora looked down smiling into the alert but deeply lined face. In any -other country Her Excellency von Gersdorf would have cut rather a -ridiculous figure. She had once been a great beauty, and though there -were but few traces left of her former splendour, she had still retained -the long ringlets and the flowered brocades of her youth. These and -other eccentricities--she had a passion for reciting her own and other -people's poetry on all possible and impossible occasions--were -respectfully accepted by the mighty circle of her acquaintances. She -was Her Excellency von Gersdorf, the widow of a high-standing Court -official, and by birth a countess with sixteen untarnished quarterings; -consequently at liberty to do, say, and dress exactly what and how she -pleased, without exciting the slightest criticism. Nora knew all this; -but in the brief pause between her hostess's question and her own answer -she found herself again wondering what her English friends would -say--what Miles would say. - -"My husband sends his greetings and begs that your Excellency will -excuse him," she answered. "He has some important work to-night and -could not accompany me." - -Frau von Gersdorf nodded, whilst her bright, bird-like eyes wandered -over her guests. - -"I know, I know; these General-Staff husbands are totally unreliable. -But there, I dare say you will be able to amuse yourself without him. I -think you must know everybody here?" - -"Everybody," Nora responded gravely. - -"And--_ach, ja, naturlich_! There is a countryman of yours who is most -anxious to meet you again." She saw Nora's colour change, and added -quickly, "I do not mean an Englishman--a captain from the dragoons in -Karlsburg--Herr Rittmeister!" - -A tall figure in a pale-blue uniform disengaged itself from a group of -officers by the window and came towards them. Nora recognised Bauer -instantly, but this time his good-looking face, with its expression of -almost insolent indifference, aroused no feeling either of aversion or -alarm. She determined to treat him as she would have treated any other -acquaintance, satisfied that a great change divided the hot-headed child -of then from the dignified married woman of now. Bauer's manner also -reassured her. He kissed her extended hand with a grave respect which -was almost apologetic and caused her to answer his greeting with an -impulsive friendliness worthy of a younger and less experienced Nora. - -Frau von Gersdorf nodded her satisfaction. She evidently felt that two -of her guests were settled for the evening, and patted Nora's arm with a -hand whose white beauty was one of the few remaining traces of the past. - -"You two can talk Karlsburg news as soon as Herr Rebenski has finished -his sonata," she said as she prepared to bustle off. "He is one of my -protégés--a real genius, you know." - -Bauer looked at Nora with a faint, whimsical grimace. - -"Her Excellency has always a genius on hand," he said. "It is part of -her own genius--this 'discovering' instinct. Apparently the latest -belongs to the piano _virtuoso_ class. We shall have to listen in -respectful silence." - -To confirm his statement, a profound hush fell upon the assembly. Those -who could find chairs sat down, the others lined themselves along the -wall and stood in various attitudes of attention or indifference. Bauer -had discovered an empty alcove at the back of the room, and from this -point of vantage Nora studied her surroundings with the keenness of her -new vision. She had written home of her "brilliant life" and had not -been hypocritical. For her it had at first been brilliant. The -resplendent uniforms, the constant social intercourse, the courtly -gallantry of her husband's comrades, the ring of grand names--all these -features in her daily life had bewildered her, accustomed as she was to -the stagnation and general dullness of Delford society. Now the thought -of Miles's advent steadied her critical faculties. She saw behind the -first glamour an almost extraordinary simplicity, a total indifference -to what she had always looked upon as the refinements of life. These -people cared for other things: the women thought little of their -appearance--they gloried in their name and position; the men, beneath -the polish of their manners, were something primitive in their tastes. -Nora thought suddenly of her husband. How little he seemed to mind the -narrow dimensions of his home, the ugliness of the furniture! How -satisfied the elegant staff-officer seemed with his supper of cheap wine -and sausage! Nora's sense of humour won the upper hand. She laughed to -herself, and suddenly realised that the long sonata was at an end and -that Bauer was speaking to her under cover of the renewed hubbub. - -"_Gnädige Frau_, do you know why I am here to-night?" he asked. - -Nora looked up. - -"Probably because you were invited, and wished to enjoy a pleasant -evening," she said, still smiling at her own thoughts. - -"A pleasant evening!" he laughed. "_Gnädige Frau_, in an ordinary way I -avoid these festivities like the plague. I came to-night because I had -heard that you were coming. Please, do not frown like that--the -statement is wholly innocent of impertinence. I wanted to meet you -again because I wanted to apologise." - -"To me?" - -"Yes. Do you remember a certain morning in the forest at Karlsburg--a -few weeks before your return to England? You were out riding with -Captain von Arnim, and I galloped past you. I was told after wards that -my furious riding had frightened your horse and that but for your future -husband's presence of mind there might have been an accident. The -thought has troubled me ever since." - -Nora felt a pang of remorse. She felt that she had misjudged this man. -Her previous conduct to him appeared inexcusably childish and -prejudiced. - -"You did not do it on purpose," she said gently. - -"No; that is true. I did not see you until it was too late. Still, I -had no business to ride like that--I was in the devil's own mood that -morning." - -"With a reason?" - -"Yes; with a reason. Perhaps one day I will tell you about it--but not -now. Am I forgiven?" - -Nora nodded. She was reliving the moment when she had felt Wolff's arm -snatch her, as it had seemed, from the brink of death; she saw again his -white, frightened face, and answered truthfully: - -"I have nothing to forgive. You did me no harm." - -"No; I know," he said, as though he had divined her thoughts. Nora -caught a glance of his face in the long mirror opposite, and was struck -for a moment by the bitterness of his expression. He looked less -indifferent than usual--almost disturbed. - -"They say that if you give the devil a finger he takes the whole hand," -he went on after a pause, and in a lighter tone. "Having obtained your -forgiveness, I now come with a request, _gnädige Frau_." - -"May it be as easily granted!" Nora answered, laughing. - -"At any rate, it is not for myself this time. My sister-in-law, Frau -Commerzienrat Bauer, has asked me to be a suppliant on her behalf. -Perhaps you remember her? You met her at the Charity Bazaar last -month." - -Nora shook her head. - -"I am a disgrace--I forget people's names so quickly," she said -apologetically. - -"My relation has a better memory--especially for those to whom she has -taken a fancy. She has a special weakness for English people, and it -seems she is most anxious to meet you again. She has, of course, quite -another circle of acquaintances, and so is driven to the expedient of -calling on you herself. Has she your permission?" - -Something in the request or in the manner of its making jarred on Nora. -She hesitated, not knowing why, and Bauer went on quickly: - -"I know this form of proceeding is unusual, _gnädige Frau_, and I -confess I should not have undertaken to be my sister-in-law's messenger -if it had not been that I had heard you were expecting your brother. -The two things do not seem to have much connection, but it struck me -that it might interest him--and perhaps you--to see something of another -side of German life. There _is_ another side, _gnädige Frau_." - -"I am very content with the one I know," Nora answered. She was -conscious of a rising repugnance--and a rising curiosity. - -Bauer laughed. - -"That is natural enough. You have married an officer, and have made his -set yours. But for your brother it will be different. I know a little -of English life and of English tastes, and I fancy he will find all -this--this sort of thing cramped and dull, not to say shabby. These -people"--his tone became faintly tinged with condescension--"belong to -the class which prides itself on being poor but noble, and on despising -those who have acquired riches. When they have not enough to eat, they -feast on the memory of their ancestors and are satisfied. But there is -another class, thank Heaven, one which has taken your people as an -example, _gnädige Frau_. The great commercial and financial potentates, -who have flung off the foolish, narrow-hearted prejudices of the -past--it is of them and of their lives which you should see something -before you pass judgment." - -Nora rose suddenly to her feet. She felt vaguely that a bribe had been -offered her, and, what was worse, a bribe whose cunning effectiveness -had been based on some instinctive knowledge of her mind. All her -natural loyalty rose up in arms against it. - -"I have not passed judgment," she said proudly. "I should never pass -judgment on a people to whom I belong." Then the old impulsive kindness -moved her to add: "All the same, I shall be pleased to renew my -acquaintance with your sister-in-law at any time convenient to her." - -She gave him her hand, a little ashamed of her previous outburst, and he -bent over it and kissed it respectfully. - -"Thank you, _gnädige Frau_." - -She left him, and he stood there stroking his fair moustache and looking -after her with amused and admiring eyes. Nor was he the only one to -watch her quiet progress, for, little as she knew it, the child Nora had -become a beautiful woman, and the charm of her new womanhood hung about -her like a veil. - -Later on, when the last of Her Excellency's protégés had performed their -uttermost, and Frau von Seleneck and Nora had started on the home -passage, the latter ventured a question concerning Frau Commerzienrat -Bauer. She did not know why she asked, and Frau von Seleneck's answer -did not encourage further curiosity. - -"I believe her father had a big furniture-shop somewhere," she said, -"and her husband is something or the other on the money-market. I -cannot imagine how the captain got into such a good regiment." - -"He may be a very good officer," Nora said, conscious of a slight -feeling of irritation. - -Frau von Seleneck shrugged her shoulders. - -"He may be. At any rate, I know nothing more about his relations." She -lifted her skirts a little higher, though whether to avoid contamination -with the mud or as a sign of her general disapproval was not clear. -"They are very rich," she added indifferently. - - - - - *CHAPTER IV* - - *A VISITOR ARRIVES IN KARLSBURG* - - -The square-built house in the Moltke Strasse was to let. A big notice -in the front windows published the fact, although the curtains were -still hanging, and the air of desolation which usually envelops -"desirable residences," or their German equivalents, was not yet -noticeable. - -Inside, the signals of departure were more evident. The hall had been -stripped bare of its scanty decorations, and in the disordered rooms a -person of obviously Hebrew origin was to be seen roaming about with a -pencil and a greasy note-book, making a careful inventory of the -valuables. There was, indeed, only one room where the bustle and the -confusion had been vigorously excluded and where the Hebrew gentleman's -foot had not yet ventured to tread. This was Frau von Arnim's boudoir, -and Hildegarde had taken refuge there like a shipwrecked mariner on a -friendly island. She lay on her sofa with closed eyes and listened to -the hammering and bumping of furniture over the bare boards. Only an -occasional contraction of the fine brows and a tightening of the lips -betrayed that she was awake, and that the sounds were painful to her. - -Frau von Arnim, who was working at her accounts by the window, never -failed to catch that fleeting expression of suffering. It was as though -some invisible nerve of sympathy existed between her and the invalid, -and that she knew when the dull ache kindled to poignant pain. For a -time she remained silent, ignoring what she saw. Then she rose, and -coming to Hildegarde's side, laid her hand tenderly upon the white -forehead. - -"Does it cost so much?" she asked. "Does it cost too much? Ought I -never to have allowed so great a sacrifice?" - -Instantly Hildegarde's eyes opened and revealed a brightness that they -had not shown since the days when she had ridden at Wolff's side through -the forest, and known neither suffering nor loss. - -"It's not a sacrifice," she said, taking her mother's hand, and holding -it in her own. "When I think of what we are going to do, and why we are -doing it, I feel as though I were giving myself some selfish pleasure -and making you pay the price. After all, from my sofa the world will -look much the same in Berlin as it does here, and if I am sorry to -leave, it is only because every room has its dear associations. You see, -on my side it is only a sentimental sort of pain, which is rather -agreeable than otherwise. But for you it is different. It will be so -lonely for you, and I know how you hate flats--a suite of lofts in a -badly managed hotel is what you used to call them." - -Frau von Arnim smiled. - -"You have a bad memory in so far as it retains foolish remarks, better -forgotten," she said. "I am sure I shall be very happy in our new home, -and in any case, I, too, have my pleasure from our 'plot.' I have just -been reckoning that if we are careful we shall be able to allow them at -least 1,000 marks more next year, and that will make all the difference -in the world to them. They will not have to worry so much over their -pfennige at any rate." - -"If only Wolff will accept it!" Hildegarde said doubtfully. "He is like -the rest of us all; and if he thinks, as I suppose he must, that we are -giving up anything, he will call it a sacrifice and will refuse to -accept it." - -"He will do just what I tell him!" Frau von Arnim retorted, with a touch -of half-laughing authority, which threw a sidelight on her conscious -power over her entourage. "He will let me humbug him because there will -be nothing else for him to do. I shall say that we have come to Berlin -to be near them--which is true; that we prefer the quiet quarters--which -is partly true; that we are doing our best to spend our money, but that, -do what we will, there is always a trouble--some 1,000 marks over, which -won't be got rid of--which is not true at all. I shall offer it him as -an indirect present to Nora, and Nora will secretly spend it on his -dinners, and both will be all the happier; you need not be afraid." - -Hildegarde's eyes flashed with amusement. She loved her mother in her -triumphant, self-confident moods. - -"I do not think I was afraid--really," she said. "I know by experience -that you can twist most people round your finger. And Wolff is no -exception." - -She smiled to herself, and there was something wistful in her expression -which Frau von Arnim was quick to perceive. She bent lower as though -she wished to catch and interpret every shadow that crossed her -daughter's face. - -"And you will be glad to see them again, Hildegarde? You are strong -enough? It will not make you unhappy?" - -Hildegarde shook her head. - -"It is true when I say that I am longing to see them," she said firmly. -"I am happier--far happier now than in the time when I knew that, -crippled though I was, Wolff would have married me, that I had only to -stretch out my hand, as it were, for him to take it. It was so hard -_not_ to stretch out my hand; I had to crush down my love for him, and -throw scorn on myself for daring to love at all. Every day I was afraid -that I might betray myself. Now it is different. I can love him openly -and honestly as my brother, and Nora I can love too without bitterness -or envy as the one woman who could make him happy, or who was worthy of -him. So you see, dearest, everything is for the best." - -Frau von Arnim nodded, satisfied by the steady, cheerful voice. - -"You have your reward," she said. "Rightly enough, Wolff traces all his -happiness back to you, and his love and gratitude are in proportion." - -"To his happiness?" Hildegarde suggested, smiling. "In that case I ought -to be more than satisfied. Although, perhaps, for my sake he tries to -hide that fact, it is obvious from his letters that he never knew what -the real thing was until Nora became his wife. And I believe it will be -lasting. We know Nora so well. We know how good and loving and honest -she is. I do not think she will ever disappoint him or us." - -"And Wolff, of course, could not disappoint any one, not even though he -were advertised as perfect," Frau von Arnim observed slyly. "So we need -feel no alarm for the future. And now I must go back to my accounts." - -There was a long unbroken silence. Hildegarde seemed really asleep, or -at least too deep in her own thoughts to notice the significant -rumblings overhead, and her mother was frowning over the division of -income, or rather the stretching of income over the hundred-and-one -things necessary to the "keeping up of appearances." The latter -occupation had been the constant worry of Frau von Arnim's life. Her -poverty had always been of the brilliant kind, but it had been poverty -none the less for that, and now this change had come it was not even to -be brilliant. Not that she felt any regret. The "brilliancy" had only -been maintained as a sort of sop to the family traditions, and now that -the family honour seemed to concentrate itself on Wolff, it was only -natural that the other members would be ready to make every sacrifice to -support him and save him from the curse of pecuniary troubles, which is -the curse of two-thirds of the German nobility. So the old home was to -be given up, and the old pill-box brougham and such of the family relics -as would find no place in the narrow dimensions of an _étage_ were to -drift into the hands of strangers. Both Frau von Arnim and Hildegarde, -brought up in the stern code of their old race, found this course of -events perfectly correct, and they would have done no less even if they -had not cared for Wolff. Thus the frown upon Frau von Arnim's brow was -caused not so much by trouble or regret as by a natural dislike for the -consideration of pfennige, and it was with a movement of almost relief -that she looked up presently, aroused from her unloved task by the -ringing of the front-door bell. - -"That must be Herr Sonnenthal again," she said. "He has probably come to -tell us how much the carriage has fetched. Would you mind if I saw him -in here?" - -Hildegarde assented, but her mother's supposition proved incorrect. The -untidy charwoman who put in her head a minute later informed them that -there was a strange gentleman downstairs inquiring after a certain -Fräulein whose name she, the charwoman, had not been able to grasp, and -that, failing her, he had requested the honour of a few minutes' -conversation with the _gnädige Frau_ herself. - -Frau von Arnim looked puzzled as she studied the card. - -"I think there must be some mistake," she said. "However, show him up -here." - -For some reason or other nothing was said of the unknown visitor. It is -possible that, as the wild beasts of the forest have an instinctive -prescience of an enemy's approach, so we, in our higher world of -sensitiveness, receive indefinable warnings when mischance is about to -overtake us or a personality to enter into our lives and change its -whole course. Certain it is that neither Frau von Arnim nor Hildegarde -were fully at their ease as their visitor entered the room, and their -response to his correct, somewhat stiff bow was marked by that frigidity -which seems to ask of itself "Who are you? What do you want with us?" - -Hildegarde had drawn herself up into a sitting position. The last two -months had brought a marked change for the better in her health, and -with a revival of the old strength had come a revival of the old pride -and sensitiveness. She hated a stranger to see, and perhaps pity, her -infirmity, and, moreover, on this occasion she was conscious of an -inexplicable restlessness. - -There was, at all events, nothing alarming in the stranger's appearance. -A tall, carefully dressed man, with a thin sunken face, and a manner -suggesting at once breeding and embarrassment, stood in the doorway, -evidently uncertain as to his own course of conduct. As the silence -threatened to grow awkward, Frau von Arnim took the initiative. - -"From your card, and from what my servant tells me, I judge that you are -English, Captain Arnold," she said, motioning him to be seated. - -The visitor's face immediately lightened, and he advanced into the room, -without, however, making further use of her invitation. - -"I should be most thankful," he said. "If my German had not been of -such a negligible quality I should not have had to trouble you. Indeed, -until I heard you speak I feared my difficulties were by no means at an -end. I hope you will excuse my intrusion?" - -His sentences, like his manner, were somewhat wooden, and not calculated -to inspire any particular warmth in his hearers. Having briefly -introduced him to Hildegarde, Frau von Arnim repeated her invitation, -which he now accepted, though with reluctance. - -"I shall be glad to be of any service to you," Frau von Arnim said -graciously. "English people are bound to me by at least one tie, and it -is always a pleasure when I can assist any one of them. You need not -apologise therefore." - -Arnold smiled, and his expression suggested that he accepted her words -as a formal politeness, and valued them as such. - -"You are very kind," he said. "At the same time I trust that I need not -trespass too much on your good-nature. I must explain that I have just -returned from Africa, and Karlsburg lying on overland route, I stopped -in the hope that Miss Ingestre were still staying here. Your servant, -however, did not understand my German, or did not recognise the -name----" - -"The latter is certain," Frau von Arnim interrupted calmly. "The girl -was not here when Miss Ingestre lived with us." - -"Miss Ingestre has left, then?" - -"Already--some months." - -Captain Arnold rose abruptly. It was evident that his mission was at an -end. - -"In that case I do not need to trouble you further," he said. "I came -on a mere supposition. Had I not travelled so quickly I should no doubt -have heard from Miss Ingestre herself, but I have been on the road night -and day, missing, apparently, every mail, and getting a good start on my -own letters. I shall now have to hurry on to England as fast as -possible." - -"If you wish to meet Frau von Arnim your journey will be in vain," -Hildegarde said. "She is at present in Berlin." - -Arnold turned, and for the first time looked steadily at the speaker. -It was evident that the words had had no meaning for him, but there was -a curious, apparently causeless animosity and distrust in her steady -eyes which arrested his attention and aroused in him emotions of a like -nature. It was as though unconsciously they had hated each other before -all time, and that the hatred had now become a definite recognisable -quality. - -"You spoke of Frau von Arnim," he said. "I am afraid I do not quite -understand." - -Hildegarde shrugged her shoulders. The movement was slightly insolent -and utterly at variance with her usual gentle courtesy, but, like all -nervous invalids, she could be goaded beyond all self-control, and -something in this man's manner jarred on her as presumptuous, -overbearing, suggesting an impertinent familiarity with the woman who -was Wolff's wife. - -"I think you must undoubtedly have missed your letters," she said; -"otherwise you would know that Miss Ingestre ceased to exist many months -ago." - -The next minute she regretted her own clumsiness. The man's whole -bearing and expression had changed. His face was livid; it was obvious -that he had a hard task to control an extraordinary agitation. - -"You must think me very stupid," he said, and his voice was painful to -listen to. "I beg of you to speak more clearly. You will perhaps -understand what it means to me when I tell you what you seem not to -know--that Miss Ingestre is to be my wife." - -"Captain Arnold, you are labouring under some strange delusion. Miss -Ingestre is already married." - -It was Frau von Arnim who spoke. She had advanced almost unconsciously, -and now stood half-way between him and Hildegarde, who had risen to her -feet. - -Arnold said nothing. His eyes were fixed full on Frau von Arnim's face, -but his expression was absolutely blank, and he did not seem to see her. -She waited, too disturbed to move farther forward along the path of -inevitable explanation, and after a minute, in which the man's whole -moral strength seemed to be concentrated in the fight for self-mastery, -Arnold himself broke the silence. - -"I can only believe that there is a misapprehension on both sides," he -said. "Are you speaking of Miss Nora Ingestre?" - -"Of Miss Nora Ingestre that was." - -"And you say she is already married?" - -"In April--five months ago." - -"To whom?" - -"To Hauptmann von Arnim, at present officer on the Staff at Berlin." - -"You are sure of what you say? There is no possible mistake?" - -Frau von Arnim's brows contracted proudly. For a brief moment she had -sympathised with, and even pitied, his agitation. His rigid -self-control, entailing as it did an increased abruptness of manner, -impressed her disagreeably, hiding from her usually keen eyes the fact -that the man was really suffering. She answered therefore, with -considerable haughtiness: - -"There is no possible mistake. You will see that for yourself when I -tell you that Herr von Arnim is my nephew, and that I myself was at the -wedding at Delford." - -Arnold bowed. His expression was now normal, and it suggested no more -than the calm interest of an ordinary caller on an ordinary topic of -conversation. - -"You are perfectly right," he said. "There is no possible mistake. I -am very grateful to you for your explanation." - -He included Hildegarde in his curt salute, and turned towards the door. - -Frau von Arnim detained him with a decided and indignant gesture. - -"The matter cannot end there," she said. "You have suggested that Miss -Ingestre was engaged to you at the time of her betrothal with my nephew. -It is a suggestion intensely offensive to us all. It is now my turn to -point out to you that you are making a mistake--or worse." - -Arnold coloured with anger. - -"I am not likely to make a mistake of such magnitude," he said. "Of -your second insinuation I need take no notice." - -"In that case I must ask you to be more explicit. I--we have a right to -an explanation." - -"Excuse me--I fail to see that any one has a right in a matter which -concerns Miss Ingestre--Frau von Arnim, and myself alone." - -"The matter concerns my nephew and us all." - -Arnold smiled ironically. - -"I regret that I cannot sympathise with your point of view," he said. -"In any case, I have no explanation to offer." - -There was a blank silence. It was the more marked because it followed -on a sharp lightning-like exchange, kept within bounds of outward -courtesy only by the education and upbringing of the conflicting -personalities. Frau von Arnim, usually armed with a kindly wisdom which -had sympathy for all sorts and conditions of men, was brought nearer to -a display of uncontrolled anger than in all her life before. To her -mind, Arnold had, unwittingly perhaps, cast a slur upon the credit of -one who was a member of her family; and her family was Frau von Arnim's -fetish. He had done so, moreover, without offering proof or -justification, and the latter offences deepened his guilt, though their -omission would not have shielded him from her enmity. - -Arnold, on his side, saw a haughty, domineering woman who claimed the -right to investigate a personal overwhelming calamity in which she had -no share, and with which he could as yet only grapple in blind, -half-incredulous pain. He disliked her instinctively, but also because -he could not understand the motives and principles which governed her -conduct towards himself. He continued speaking after a moment, and his -irritation was so intense that it helped him to overcome, almost forget, -his own misery. - -"I think there is nothing more to be said," he observed, looking Frau -von Arnim coldly in the face. "It seems I have blundered, and it is only -right that I should bear the brunt of the consequences alone. I am sure -you will agree with me that it will be best for this--what has passed -between us--to be kept entirely to ourselves, to be forgotten. It can -only bring trouble to others, and, as I have said, I am alone to blame." - -In spite of everything, he was thinking of Nora, seeking to shield her -from the results of his betrayal of a cruel duplicity. - -Frau von Arnim was thinking of Wolff, and of the woman to whom he had -entrusted his happiness--above all things, their name. - -"What you suggest is impossible," she said. "There are things one -cannot forget--at least not until they have been explained. We must -therefore look for the explanation." - -"I have none to give," Arnold returned, with bitter truth. - -"Then we must look elsewhere." - -"It would be better to do as I suggest, and leave the matter alone, or -lay it to my account--to my own stupid muddle." He spoke hurriedly, for -he felt afraid of this woman, with her haughty, resolute face. It was -as though, unwittingly, he had roused to action a force which had passed -out of his control. - -"If there is any shadow of wrong connected with my nephew's marriage, it -must be cleared," Frau von Arnim answered. "That is the only wisdom I -know." - -Arnold bowed a second time, and went. - -For a long time after he had gone the two women remained silent, -motionless, avoiding each other's eyes. The action seemed to imply that -nothing had happened. - -Hildegarde had long since fallen wearily back upon her couch. She -roused herself then, and turned her white, troubled face towards her -mother. - -"The man must be mad!" she said, almost violently. "Nora could never -have done such a thing. She is so frank and honest. She would have told -us from the beginning. I could have sworn that she never cared for a -man before she loved Wolff. I do not believe a word of it." - -"Nor I," her mother answered calmly. "As you say, the man may be -mad--though he did not seem so--or there may really be some mistake. -But we must make sure, for our own peace of mind, and Nora is the only -one who can help us. Even so we must have patience and wait. We have -no right to trouble her so early in her married life with what, I pray, -may be a false alarm." - -"You must ask her when we are in Berlin," Hildegarde said, in the same -sharp, determined tone. "I could not see her every day like that and -not know." - -"You are quite right. When we are settled in Berlin I will tell her -everything that has happened. Until then we must believe the best." - -"Yes, of course--believe the best," Hildegarde answered thoughtfully. - - - - - *CHAPTER V* - - *THE CUB AS LION* - - -The express steamed in between the crowded platforms of the Potsdamer -Bahnhof, and from one of the windows of a carriage labelled "Vlissingen" -a rather sallow face and a loud voice announced the fact that Mr. Miles -Ingestre had made his triumphal entry into the Fatherland. - -Nora, who had been threading her way through the crowd, with Wolff's arm -in hers, ran off and was received by her brother with that English -prosaicness which has the advantage of being equally admirable as -Spartan disguise for rich and noble emotions or as an expression of no -emotion at all. - -"Hullo, old girl, how are you?" - -"Very well, thanks. What was the journey like?" - -"Might have been worse. There were a lot of beastly Germans in the -carriage, so of course the windows----" He caught sight of Wolff, who -had approached at a more leisurely pace, and his tone shaded down -somewhat. "Hullo, Wolff, how are you?" - -They shook hands, and whilst the _Gepäckträger_ was bustling round in -the search for the new-comer's luggage, one of those painful silences -threatened to set in which are the ghosts at all meetings where joy is -too deep for words, or too shallow to stand much demonstration. Of the -three, Miles himself was the only one who was sincerely in high spirits. -They broke out in spurts and seemed regulated very much by how far he -was conscious of Wolff's presence. It was evident that his respect for -his brother-in-law had gone up several degrees since the afternoon when -he had criticised the latter's Karlsburg civilian clothes, though -whether that respect had its source in a juster appreciation of his -relative's character or in the knowledge that Wolff was now master in -his own country was hard to determine. Certain it is that he did his -best to be amiable after his own fashion. - -"I assure you I have been simply wild to come," he said as they made -their way together towards the exit of the station. "It was as stale as -ditch-water at home, and I was getting fairly fed up with it all. So I -piled on my 'nerves,' as the pater calls them, and dropped a few hints -about the place, which the old man picked up quite brightly--for him. -He was really quite game about it, and sent all sorts of amiable -messages to you, Wolff." - -"Thanks. By the way, how long does your leave extend? You seem pretty -liberal with that sort of thing in your Army." - -Miles chuckled. - -"My leave extends to all eternity," he said enigmatically, and then, as -he saw Nora's astonished face, he condescended to explanation. "I've -chucked the Army, you know. I thought the pater had told you. I was -fairly fed up with the drudgery and the routine of it all. It wasn't so -bad at first. It gave one a kind of standing, and as long as there was -plenty of money going a fellow could amuse himself fairly well. But -when the pater began drawing in the purse-strings I had enough of it. -Ugh! Imagine duty one half of the day and trying to make both ends meet -the other half! No, thanks!" - -He shuddered, and Nora looked at him anxiously. - -"Then what are you going to do afterwards?" she asked. - -"Go into some business or other--something where one can make money as -fast as possible. By the way, Wolff, is it true that you are on the -general staff?" - -"Yes; it is quite true, fortunately." - -"I see--great gun. Hard work, though, I suppose?" - -"Yes----" Arnim hesitated, as though on the point of making some -remark, and then added innocently enough, "Perhaps you would have found -it less of a drudgery than the usual routine, but scarcely remunerative -enough." - -Miles glanced uneasily at his brother-in-law, and then subsided, to all -appearance suppressed, but Nora, who walked on his other side, caught a -fleeting grimace, which was all too easy to translate into Miles's -vernacular. She was secretly thankful when her husband had seen them -both into a cab and closed the door. - -"I shall be home late to-night," he said. "Don't stay up for me, dear, -if you are tired." - -He waited on the pavement until they drove off, and Nora's eyes sought -to convey to him an unusual tenderness. There was indeed something -remorseful and apologetic in her manner which she herself could hardly -have explained. For the first time she was conscious of being almost -glad that he was not coming home, and her sense of relief when at length -the _droschke_ actually started on its way was so keen that she felt -herself guilty of disloyalty. "It is only the first evening," she -thought in self-defence. "They are such strangers to each other. Wolff -might not understand Miles. It will be better when they know each other -and are friends." - -"Where is Wolff to-night?" Miles inquired, breaking in upon her troubled -thoughts. "Any spree on?" - -"It is his _Kriegsspiel_ night," Nora answered. "He has to go." - -Miles chuckled sceptically. - -"Rather good for us, anyhow," he said. "We can talk so much better, -can't we?" - -Nora was thankful for the half-darkness. The angry colour had rushed to -her cheeks. And yet her brother's words, tacitly placing Wolff in the -position of an outsider as they did, were little more than a brutalised -edition of her own thoughts. - -"I hate it when he is not at home," she said loyally. "Of course, -to-night it is different, but as a rule it is very lonely without him." - -"But you have plenty of people who could come and see you?" - -"Y--es. Still, there are evenings when there is no one." - -"Well, you have got me now," said Miles consolingly. He was busy gazing -out of the carriage window, and for a time the bustling, lighted streets -occupied his whole attention. Nora made no attempt to distract him. -She was not feeling very happy not as happy as she knew she ought to -be--and the fact worried her. Presently they turned into a quiet street -and Miles sank back with a sigh of satisfaction. - -"It seems a lively enough sort of place," he said. "I expect you have a -gay time, don't you?" - -"I am very happy," said Nora, with unusual eagerness. - -"Yes, of course, but I meant gay--dances and dinners and all that sort -of thing. The pater ran into some fellow who had just come back from a -trip to Berlin, and he said the officers had no end of a time--were -treated like the lords of creation, in fact, especially if they had a -bit of a title stuck on to their names. Wolff is a baron, isn't he?" - -"Yes," said Nora abruptly. - -"I thought so. Pater stuck him up a peg to this chap and said he was a -count. Barons aren't much in Germany, though. They're as common as -herrings." - -"_They_ don't think so," Nora protested, hot with annoyance. "They -think a good deal of it." - -"Yes--snobs. That's what this fellow said. However, I don't mind. The -good time is the only thing I care about, and you seem to have that all -right by your letters." - -Nora's brows contracted. In a rapid mental review she passed over -everything she had ever written home, and reconsidered it in the light -of Miles's possible judgment. Frau von Seleneck gave dinners. There -were never more than four simple courses, whose creation, she proudly -admitted, was owed almost entirely to her own skill. The orderly waited -at table, and it was a standing joke that somebody's dress or uniform -had to pay for his too eager attentions. Nora remembered having written -home that she had enjoyed herself immensely, and she had written in -perfect truth. She had happened to like the people on that particular -occasion, and above all things Wolff himself had been there. This -wonderful fact of Wolff's presence was indeed sufficient to colour the -most dismal entertainment in Nora's opinion; but in Miles's opinion, she -felt with painful certainty, it would have less than no effect. He did -not love Wolff as she did, and without love her "brilliant life" might, -after all, be more correctly viewed as a hard if cheerful struggle -against necessity. - -"There is always something going on," she said at length; "but you must -not expect anything too wonderful, dear. People in Germany live much -more simply than we--than in England, you know. And--we are not rich." -She made the last confession with an effort--not in the least because -she was ashamed, but because--Nora herself could have given no -explanation. - -Miles laughed. - -"I don't expect you live in a loft," he said. - -Nora thought of their little fourth-floor flat and laughed too--also -with an effort for which there was no possible reason. - -The droschke pulled up with a grind against the curbstone, and a gruff -voice informed them that they had arrived at their destination. Miles -jumped out and looked about him doubtfully. - -"What a poky street!" he said, rather as though he thought the coachman -must have made a mistake. "Is this really your house?" - -"Our flat is here," Nora said. "We--we like it because it is so quiet." - -And then she was ashamed of herself, because she knew that she had not -been honest. - -Miles showing no intention of paying the coachman, she paid him herself -out of her own slender purse, and they began the ascent of the narrow -stone steps which led to the heights of their _étage_. She knew that -Miles was rapidly becoming more puzzled, but she made no attempt to -elucidate matters--indeed, could not have done so. Never before had she -found the stairs so endless, so barren, so ugly. The chill atmosphere, -which yet succeeded in being stuffy, seemed to penetrate into every -corner of her heart and weight it down with a leaden depression. She -did not look at Miles when they stood crowded together on the narrow -landing, nor when her little maid-of-all-work, Anna, opened the door and -grinned a more than usually friendly welcome. She led the way into the -so-called drawing-room and switched on the electric light--their one -luxury--half-hoping that some miracle might have mercifully worked among -the plush chairs and covered them with a much-needed elegance. But they -stood as they had always stood, in spite of the most careful arranging -in the world--stiff and tasteless as though they had come out of the -front window of a cheap furniture shop--which, in point of fact, they -had--and would not forget that they were "reduced goods." Nora had a -kind of whimsical affection for them--they were so hopelessly atrocious -that it would have been uncharitable to criticise; but to-night -something like hatred welled up in her heart against their well-meaning -ugliness. She had felt much the same when Frau von Seleneck had first -visited her, but that lady had burst into such unfeigned raptures that -the feeling had passed. But Miles said nothing, and his silence was, if -exclamatory, not rapturous. - -Nora turned to him. She was ashamed of her shame, but with all the will -in the world she could only meet his wide-open stare with a sort of -defiance which betrayed that she knew already what he was thinking, that -she had even foreseen it. - -"This is the drawing-room," she said lamely. "We don't often use it, -though. It is not as--comfortable as the others." - -"I should hope not," he said. He was looking around him with such real -and blank astonishment that poor Nora could have laughed if the tears of -bitter humiliation had not been so near the surface. Bravely, and with -the recklessness of one who feels that the worst is over and nothing -else matters, she pushed open the folding-doors. - -"The dining-room," she said, as though she were introducing a poor -relation of whom she was trying not to be ashamed. - -Miles inspected the imitation mahogany table and chairs with his -eyebrows still at an elevated angle, but now less with surprise as with -a supercilious disgust. - -"Is this where you have your dinner parties?" he asked. - -Nora heard and understood the irony, and it gave her back her nerve and -pride. - -"Yes," she said. "We do not have them often, because we cannot afford -them. When we do we only have our best friends, and they find the room -big enough and good enough." - -Miles made no further observation, though his silence was a work of art -in unexpressed things, and Nora led him to their little _Fremdenzimmer_. -She had prepared it with the greatest care. There was a jar of flowers -on the dressing-table, and everything smelt of freshness and -cleanliness, but she had not been able to stretch its dimensions, and it -was with unanswerable justice that Miles inquired where he was expected -to keep his things. - -"You can keep one of your boxes under the bed," Nora said in some -confusion. "The others are being put in the corridor. I'm afraid -you'll have to go outside when you want anything. I am very sorry, -dear." - -"That's all right," Miles said, with sudden and surprising amiability. -"I'll manage somehow." - -Nora left him to make what toilette he chose, thankful to be alone for a -moment. She went straight back to the drawing-room and faced each chair -in turn with an unflinching eye. Her shame was over and her spirit was -up in arms. In that moment she cared nothing for Miles's opinion nor -the opinion of the whole world. This was her home--her and Wolff's -home--and he who chose to despise it could shake the dust off his feet -and go elsewhere. She could almost have embraced the ugliest chair, and -she was so proud of her own loyal enthusiasm that she did not recognise -it for what it really was--the last desperate refuge of her deeply -humbled pride. She went about her work singing to herself--a thing she -rarely did--and told herself that she was in excellent spirits. It cost -her no effort to leave the dining-room door open whilst she laid the -table. Let Miles see her! What did she care? And if he jeered and -asked if she waited at her own dinner parties or covered her little home -with the wealth of his contempt, had she not one triumphant answer? - -"Small and poor it may be, but it contains everything I care for on this -earth!" - -She felt so sure of herself that when her brother entered half an hour -later, she lifted a face from which a happy smile had brushed away every -sign of storm and conflict. - -"How quick you have been!" she cried. "And, oh, Miles, what a -magnificent man!" - -He laughed self-consciously and glanced down at his immaculate -evening-clothes. - -"Not a bad fit, are they?" he said. "Poole's, you know. I suppose you -don't change here, do you?" - -Nora flinched in spite of herself. - -"We do when we can," she said, still cheerful; "but very often Wolff -comes back so late that he has no time to do more than wash and slip -into his _Litewka_. Poor fellow! He has to work so frightfully hard." - -Again Miles said nothing, and again Nora felt that his silence was more -effective than the longest speech. But still borne on the high tide of -her enthusiasm, she went on arranging the knives and forks, and only her -burning cheeks betrayed that she was not so entirely at her ease. -Suddenly, to her complete bewilderment, she found Miles's arm about her -and her own head against his shoulder. - -"Poor little Nora!" he said. "Poor little sister!" - -Nora gasped. He had never been affectionate in his life before, and the -tone of manly tenderness was so new as to be almost incredible. She -threw back her head and looked into his face with mingled laughter and -wonder. He was perfectly serious, and for the first time it dawned on -her that there was a real change in him which went deeper than the -evening-dress, that he had in fact left boyhood behind him and assumed -something of the manners and bearing of a man, something, too, of his -father, the Rev. John Ingestre. Gradually her smile died away under the -undisturbed seriousness of his gaze. - -"Why, what is the matter, Miles?" she asked. "I have never known you -like this before." - -He bent his head and kissed her. - -"It struck me when I was dressing that I had been a bit of a brute," he -said. "I am awfully sorry, dear. I had imagined everything so very -different that it fairly took my breath away, and I said--well, what had -no doubt been better left unsaid. I thought you had humbugged us and I -was inclined to be angry. When I thought it over I saw how it all was -and I was awfully sorry. Poor old girl!" - -She caught her breath, seeking wildly for words to answer him, but none -came. She had been prepared for and armed against scorn, not against -this brotherly sympathy! Sympathy! What had she to do with sympathy? -Sympathy was an insult to Wolff--an insult to their love! - -With an effort she tried to free herself. - -"You don't understand," she stammered. - -"Oh, yes, I think I do," he interrupted. "I understand all that you -won't tell me, because you are such a decent little soul; and I will say -this and no more: I wish to Heaven it had been another man, Nora, a fine -English fellow who would have given you a decent English home. I wish -it had been poor old Arnold----" - -"Miles, let me go!" - -She wrenched herself from his hands. She had seen what he had not -seen--Wolff standing in the open doorway, watching them with a curiously -pale, grave face. Had he heard, and if he had heard, had he understood? -Nora could not tell. Furious with Miles and with herself, she ran to -him and put her arms about his neck. - -"Oh, how glad I am that you have come!" she cried incoherently. "You -are just in time for supper. How did you manage to get away so early?" - -He kissed her upturned face. Lips and hands were icy. - -"I got special leave," he said. "I thought"--a forced lightness -struggled through his gravity--"I thought it was not good manners to -desert my own table on the first evening. I am glad that I managed--to -come in time. I shall be ready in a minute." - -He turned and went into his dressing-room, giving neither time to -answer. Nora stared blankly after him. She felt as though she had -allowed some one to strike him across the face without protest, and that -he had gone away, not angrily, but wounded--perhaps beyond her powers of -healing. - -"What a pity!" she heard Miles say behind her. "I had looked forward to -our evening together." - -Nora turned. In her anger and desperation, she could scarcely keep her -voice under control. - -"Do not talk like that, Miles," she said. "What you think of Wolff does -not matter. I am his wife, and this is his home. Remember that!" - -Miles put his hand in his pocket and smiled. His smile suggested a -perfect understanding. - -"I have said what I want to say," he observed. "I shall not need to say -it again." - - - - - *CHAPTER VI* - - *IN WHICH THE REV. JOHN RECEIVES A SHOCK* - - -A few days after his arrival, Miles wrote home in the following terms: - - -"MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER, - -"I have landed safely, as you know by my telegram, and I expect you are -wondering why I have not written before. As a matter of fact, I wanted -to have a look round me to see how things were before I broke the news -to you. I tell you honestly, if it were not for Nora's sake, and -because, of course, I want to pick up some of the lingo, I should have -packed up my trunks and come home by the next train. You know how Nora -described things to us. You might have imagined them living in palatial -apartments with a footman and I don't know what to wait on them. - -"Well, my palatial apartment measured eight by eight, and when I get out -of bed I have to take care that I don't fall out of the window or into -the water-jug. As to the footman, he is a scrubby-looking orderly, who -drops bits of potato down your collar whilst he is serving and can't -understand a word you say to him. So much for my share of the grandeur. -There are four other rooms and they have all about the same dimensions, -and have evidently been furnished out of some second-hand place by some -one who suffered from colour-blindness. As to the atmosphere! Imagine a -kitchen-range with the fat in the fire and you have an idea. Of course, -Nora, being English, keeps the windows open, but that's not much good, -because we look out on to houses in the front and dirty yards at the -back; in fact, I shouldn't think there was a breath of fresh air for -miles round. Well, I was fairly thunderstruck, I can tell you, and I -have been in varying stages of that condition ever since. - -"My first dinner--I had an appetite like a wolf--would have made any -ordinary wolf turn tail. Nora said she had had to leave it to the cook, -and so everything had gone wrong. It _had_, and the only wonder is that -_I_ didn't go wrong afterwards. The soup was a miniature salt-lake, the -meat so tough I couldn't get my knife through it, and the pudding--I -never got to the bottom of that pudding, and I hope I never shall. It -was a ghastly meal; Wolff was as glum as an undertaker, and Nora as near -crying as she could be without coming to the real thing, and I wasn't -particularly sprightly, as you can imagine. - -"However, at last I got to bed--or the thing which they call a bed--an -iron affair with no springs that I could find, and a rotten, puffed-out -air-cushion for a covering, which fell off five times in the night and -had to be fished up from the floor. At seven o'clock--seven o'clock if -you please!--I was thumped awake by the orderly, who had planted a -five-inch pot of lukewarm water in my basin. He jabbered a lot which I -didn't understand, and then of course I went to sleep again. At about -nine I yelled for my bath, and in came Nora, looking awfully tired and -worried. It seems she had been up ever since seven slaving at the -house--I mean loft--trying to get it shipshape before lunch. After a -lot of fuss I got hold of Wolff's hip-bath and had some sort of a wash, -getting down to breakfast at ten. Breakfast! Coffee and rolls! Coffee -and rolls! I wonder if I shall ever get a square meal again! Wolff had -already gone off and didn't get back till lunch, when we had a new -edition of supper (which, it appears, had been extra grand on my -account). He doesn't seem to mind what he eats, and is always talking -shop, which, I am sure, bores Nora as much as it does me. - -"What a beastly lot these German fellows think of themselves and their -beastly army! He talks about it as though it were a sort of holy -institution compared to which nothing else mattered, and goes clattering -about the house with his spurs like a god on wheels. Thank Heaven he is -not at home much, or we should be having rows in no time. Yesterday, -for instance, I came down at ten for breakfast, and in the afternoon he -spoke to me about it as though I were a sort of raw recruit--said it -gave Nora a lot of extra work, and that he must ask me to be more -punctual. I held my tongue for Nora's sake, but I longed to give him a -bit of my mind in good English. I longed to ask him why, if he is so -keen on Nora being spared, he doesn't see that she has a proper cook and -housemaid, why he lets her work like a servant herself whilst he goes -off and amuses himself--as I know he does. He can't be badly off. His -uniforms are spotless, and he has a ripping horse, which he rides every -day. A lot of riding Nora gets--except now and again on borrowed -regimental hacks! As to the theatre, she has only been twice since they -were married--it's too expensive in Berlin forsooth! and I know for a -fact that she has not had a new dress. I suppose all Germans treat -their wives like that; but it makes my blood boil to think that Nora -should have to put up with it. - -"As to their grand friends, I don't think much of them. They all seem -to live in the same poky style, and the dinner we were invited to the -other day fairly did for me. We sat something like two hours over three -courses, each one worse than the other, and the people shouted and -jabbered as though they were in a monkey-house. What with the food and -the bad wine and the row, I hardly knew whether I was on my head or my -heels. Wolff and I had a bit of a jar about it afterwards. He said it -was _gemütlich_, or whatever the word is, and I said it was beastly and -that wild horses wouldn't drag me into such a show again, whereupon he -had the cheek to inform me that I probably wouldn't be asked and that he -thought it was bad form to criticise one's host because he didn't happen -to be rich. Nora was nearly in tears, so I held my tongue; but you can -guess what I felt like. Imagine that foreigner trying to teach _me_ -good form! Of course, I know, mother, that you had a weakness for -Wolff, but you should see him in his own home--a selfish, bullying -martinet, whose head I should be heartily delighted to punch. Perhaps I -shall one day. Don't worry about me, though. I shall be able to look -after myself. - -"There is one rather nice fellow here--a Captain Bauer, who has been -really decent to me and taken me about. He has rich relations with some -style about them--if you only knew what an oasis 'style' is in this -desert!--and I fancy they mean to give Nora and myself a good time. -Wolff tries not to show how wild he is about it, though why he should -mind I have no idea. Besides that, I have run up against some nice -English fellows, and when I can't stand things and feel in need of a -square meal, I go out with them and have a run round. In any case I -shall remain, for Nora's sake. At the bottom, I believe she is wishing -herself well out of the mess, and so I shall stay as long as possible to -help her." - - -In answer to this description of Nora's home life, the Rev. John wrote -to his daughter an epistle fulminating in grief, reproaches, sympathy, -and advice. Let it be said in praise of his epistolary abilities, that -without ever getting as far as "I told you so!" he implied that sentence -at least once on every one of the eight closely written sheets. - -"My poor child!" he wrote at the close. "I cannot tell you how this -revelation has shocked and grieved me. Alas! I can hardly call it -revelation, for did not my father's instinct prophesy everything as it -has come to pass? I cannot but admire your noble silence, your generous -concealment of the true facts of your life. I can understand how you -wish to shield your husband from all reproach, and I am the last one to -attempt to turn you from your duty to him. Nevertheless, I beseech you, -give us your whole confidence. Let us help you to bear your burden, and -if it should grow too heavy, remember that your home awaits you and that -your father's arms are always open." - -Mrs. Ingestre had added a brief note to this long oration. The -handwriting was less firm than of old, as though it had cost an effort, -but the short, concise sentences were full of strength and insight. - - -"Do you still love each other?" she asked. "For if you still love your -husband and he still loves you, I need offer neither sympathy nor pity. -You are to be envied, and I pray only that you will let no one--not even -those dearest to you--come between you and your great happiness. If -Miles is stupid and troubles you, send him home." - - -This little note was first wept over and then hidden away in a secret -drawer, but the letter went to the flames, thrown there by an angry, -indignant hand. - -"How dare he!" Nora thought in a passion of resentment. "How dare any -one pity me!" - -And she sat down in that same hour and wrote home a protest and a -defence which, it is to be feared, was often incoherent and still more -often lacking in respect. But her intention was clear. It was -condensed in the closing sentences: - - -"No one has the right to criticise my husband or my house. I love them -both, and for me they are the most perfect in the world. Those who -really love me will do well to remember this and spare me both advice -and misplaced sympathy." - - -After which this declaration of war, she went out to meet Wolff and -greeted him with a delight and tenderness which was almost feverish, -almost too marked. It was as though she were saying to herself: "See -how much I love him! And if I love him nothing else can matter." - - - - - *CHAPTER VII* - - *WOLFF SELLS A HORSE AND NORA LOSES A FRIEND* - - -In the broad Exerzier-Platz of the Grenadier barracks a little group of -officers were watching the paces of a handsome chestnut thoroughbred, -which was being galloped and cantered past them for their inspection. -Occasionally they exchanged a terse criticism, but for the most part -they were silent, intent upon the business of the moment. The shorter -of the three men--a somewhat languid-looking captain of the -Hussars--followed the movements of the rider with a professional -admiration. - -"Too bad, _Donnerwetter_! really too bad!" he exclaimed, as Arnim at -length rode up and swung himself out of the saddle. "That one fellow -should have brains and a seat like that as well is a direct injustice. -But you are wasted on the Staff, my dear Arnim; sheer wasted. They -don't know what to do with such material--the _langweilige Streber_! But -at the head of a Hussar squadron you would cut a figure--_auf Ehre_, I -would give a quarter's pay to have you with Us, and I know a -_Cavallerist_ when I see one. Here, let me try him. You would make an -old cab-horse step out!" - -Wolff laughed shortly. - -"By all means, Herr Graf," he said. "You will find that the credit of -the performance is more Bruno's than mine." - -He stood aside and watched the Count mount and ride slowly off to the -other end of the square. His face had been flushed with the recent -exercise and the natural joy which a man takes in his own skill and -strength, but Seleneck, who was observing him closely, saw that the -momentary animation had covered over unusual weariness--even depression. -There were lines between the strongly marked brows which the elder man -did not like. They were new to Wolff's face, and betokened something -more than mere mental strain. They indicated trouble, and trouble also -of a new kind. - -With an affectionate movement, Seleneck slipped his arm through Wolff's -and led him a little apart, as though to point out some special features -in the Count's equestrian performance. In reality he was indulging in -the grumble which had been choking him for the last hour. - -"What a silly fellow you are!" he said. "You have a horse which most of -us would give our ears to possess, and you sell it for about half its -value. I could hardly believe my senses when I happened to come down on -you in the middle of the transaction. It was the shock of my life." - -"Your life must be remarkably free from shocks, then," Wolff observed -grimly. "It was at any rate one that I had every intention of sparing -you." - -"I have no doubt. You looked glum enough when I appeared. But that -makes it worse. It proves that you know you are doing a silly thing, -and are ashamed of it. Seriously, though, whatever has induced you to -part with Bruno? You told me only the other day that there wasn't -another horse like it in Berlin." - -"That was perfectly true. But that is no reason why I should keep such -a paragon to myself." - -Seleneck took another hasty inspection of his friend's face. - -"Does it hurt to smile like that when you are losing your most treasured -possession?" he asked quizzically. - -"You exaggerate things," Wolff returned, with a movement of impatience. -"If I find that I have no need of a horse in Berlin, that it is both a -trouble and an expense, there is no need to immediately adopt a tone of -high tragedy. Besides, Graf Stolwitz is giving a very fair price, from -his point of view. I cannot expect him to pay for my personal -attachment to his purchase." - -"If I did not know you as I do, I should think you had been gambling," -Seleneck said, in his turn slightly ruffled. "At any rate, I am not -going to stand by and see the deed. _Auf wiedersehen_." - -Wolff's ears, quick to catch and interpret every shade of tone, had -heard the irritation in his friend's voice, and he turned quickly, as -though shaking off a weight of preoccupation. - -"Forgive me, _lieber alter Kerl_," he said. "I'm a bear this afternoon, -and ready to snap off anybody's head. Don't take any notice of me. And -don't worry about Bruno. Everything has its reason." - -"You are working too hard," Seleneck declared. "That's what's the matter -with you. I shall speak to your wife." - -"Please do nothing of the sort," Wolff said firmly. "In the first place, -it isn't true; and in the second, it would only worry her. Every man -has his own battles to fight, and every man must fight them alone. Such -is the law of things, and I am no exception." - -"If such _were_ the law of things I should have nothing more to say," -Seleneck retorted, "but the man who will neither confide in his friend -or his wife is running full-tilt against nature, and must pay for the -consequences. If I did not let Elsa have her share of my fights, she -would be perfectly miserable--and with reason. I should be depriving -her of the one thing that keeps a woman happy--trouble." - -Wolff laughed. - -"You are an ideal couple," he said. - -"And you--are you not an ideal couple?" - -"Of course--ideal." - -Seleneck waited a moment, as though he expected from Wolff's tone that -there was more to come, but the younger man remained silent, to all -appearances intent on watching the Count, who was walking his purchase -towards them. There was no irony or bitterness in his expression, but -also none of the happiness which one might have expected from the one -half of an "ideal couple," and Seleneck turned away with a sigh of -resignation. - -"I think strategy and statistics and military secrets have gone to your -head," he said. "You are developing sphinx-like habits which are too -much for my childish intellect. Still, when you want me you will know -where to find me." - -Wolff turned, as though struck by a sudden thought. - -"I want you now, Seleneck," he said quickly. "At least, there is -something I want your advice about. You know, I suppose, that my wife's -brother is staying with us?" - -"I heard something about it," Seleneck admitted, with a sudden -uneasiness. In truth, he had heard a great deal about it--from his -wife. Hitherto, neither Nora nor her brother had called at the little -flat, and this deliberate, inexplicable breach of etiquette had grown to -be something worse than a grievance in Frau von Seleneck's usually -pacific heart. But Seleneck knew himself to be no diplomatist, and held -his peace. - -"Well, I fancy that time hangs pretty heavy on his hands. Of course, I -am too busy to do much in the entertaining line--and I have an idea that -I am too German for his taste. At any rate, my wife is very anxious -that he should see something more of Berlin life--the social life, you -know--and that he should have a--a good impression." - -"I can quite understand that," Seleneck said slowly. "We'll do -everything we can. Let me see, Elsa was talking of giving a little -dinner next week. I'll tell her to include him in the invitation." - -"Thank you," Wolff answered. He was staring hard in front of him, and -an uncomfortable flush had mounted his cheeks. "It's very good of you -both," he added, as though ashamed of his own lack of enthusiasm. "As a -matter of fact, Miles has found entertainment enough for the present. -He has picked up with Bauer, who appears to have some rich relations -here. My--my wife has got to know them too." - -"Yes, so I heard," Seleneck observed grimly. - -Wolff looked up, frowning. - -"Is there any objection?" he demanded. - -"I don't know, _alter Junge_." Seleneck hesitated, conscious again of a -failing diplomacy, but goaded on by a sense of duty. "The Bauers are -immensely wealthy, but they do not belong to our set, and Bauer himself -is not the sort of man to whom I should like to trust a young -fellow--or, indeed, any one," he added almost inaudibly. - -"What do you mean by that?" - -Seleneck faced the stern eyes with the courage of desperation. - -"I mean--I feel I ought to tell you--your wife's intimacy with the -Bauers is causing ill-feeling. It is all nonsense, of course, but you -know how it is--people talk. Forgive me for putting it plainly--Bauer -has a bad reputation. They say he has already escaped dismissal from -the Army by a hair's-breadth. It is well to be careful." He waited a -moment, and then went on, "It has been on my mind some time, Wolff. I -felt I ought to warn you, but was afraid you might take it amiss." - -Wolff shook his head. - -"You have only told me what I already suspected," he said quietly; "and -of course, now that I know, I shall speak to Nora about it. She will -see how it is at once. It is all my fault--I should have taken more -care. And then, there is another thing----" - -"Is it anything in which I can help?" Seleneck asked, as Wolff again -hesitated. "You know you have only got to say what it is. There need -be no humbug between us." - -"No; that's true." - -Seleneck waited patiently, seeing that whatever it was Wolff found it -hard to express the matter on his mind. He was digging his spurred heel -into the sand and frowning, not in anger, but with a curious shamefaced -embarrassment. - -"It's this," he said at last. "You know how it was, Kurt, when we first -came here. Of course we did the duty round of visits and so on, and -went out in a quiet way, but we kept as clear as we could of the swell -affairs. I made my work the excuse, and it was quite an honest excuse, -though of course there were other reasons. Now I think it was a -mistake. I think, for my own advantage, I ought not to have refused -certain invitations--one gets a bad name at head-quarters--or is passed -over; and if it were possible I should like to get back on the lists -again----" - -He stopped short, and Seleneck stared at him in puzzled silence. For -the first time he had the opportunity of studying Wolff in a state of -thorough confusion. - -"Of course, that is easy enough," he said at last. "But all that sort of -thing entails heavy expense and----" - -"I think the expense justified," Arnim broke in hastily. "I am -convinced that a certain outlay--a certain ostentation, if you like--is -necessary to a rapid career. And I should be immensely grateful to you -if you would help me." - -"But your work--and the money?" Seleneck inquired bluntly. - -"Both are my affairs," was the quick, irritable answer. The next minute -he repented, and held out an apologetic hand. "I don't know what is the -matter with me," he said. "I'm not fit companion for a savage. Don't -take me seriously, there's a good fellow, and lend me a helping hand -this once. I want it badly." - -Seleneck shook his head. - -"As you have just suggested, you know your own business best," he said -gravely, "and I shall certainly do what I can. My uncle, the General -Hulson, is giving a ball some time this winter. I and the wife aren't -going. We can't afford it. But I daresay I could get you invitations; -and once you are in the tide you will be able to swim on for yourselves. -All the same"--he laid a kindly hand on Wolff's shoulder--"I can only -tell you what you yourself know, that the officer who burns his mental -and financial resources at both ends is lost. _Es wäre Schade um dich, -alter Junge!_" - -Wolff smiled. - -"Don't worry," he said. "I shall take care of myself, and, at any -rate--thanks for helping me." - -The Hussar had by now finished his trial, and Seleneck, with a general -salute, hurried out of the barracks. He was a sensitive man who felt a -good many things acutely which his brain did not understand, and -something in his friend's manner caused him an unexplained distress. He -knew that Wolff had changed--his very actions were proof of the fact. It -was not like him to part with an animal to which he was attached with -the real affection of a good rider for a good horse; it was not like him -to seek steps to his advancement in the patronage of his superiors. -Wolff had never been a "place-hunter." Whilst always a favourite with -those under whom he served, he had not sought their favour by any other -means than his ready goodwill and the vigorous, unsparing fulfilment of -his duty. And now he was talking of dancing attendance at every -general's levee like any common _Streber_ for whom all means are good -enough so long as the end is attained. - -Seleneck sighed as he hurried homewards. Yes, the change in his friend -was there right enough, and it had left its trace on the man's whole -bearing. He had been neither as frank nor as cheery nor as -self-confident as was his wont, and there had been a grim determination -in his voice and manner which warned against all interference. Above -all things, no laughter and forced good spirits had concealed the fact -that he was not at his ease. His whole newly born gravity had borne -more the stamp of the stiff-lipped recklessness of an adventurer than -the sober determination of a good soldier seeking a short cut to -success; and Seleneck, who felt for Wolff an ungrudging admiration, -boded no good for the future if the change continued. "I have seen a few -dozen fellows go like that," he thought to himself, "and it has always -ended in breakdown. Only in their case it was horses or cards, and I'll -wager that neither play any part in Wolff's trouble. I wonder what the -devil is the matter?" - -He was still wondering when he reached home, after an unusually tedious -and disagreeable walk. More than once he had been tempted to take the -tram, in order to be quicker home to Elsa and the comfort of shifting on -to her willing shoulders the burden of his doubts; but the consideration -of expense held him back. After all, trams become too easily a habit. -Two trams a day cost 20 pf. and six days amount to 1.20, and 1.30 will -buy a bottle of Landwein good enough for the little "evenings" which one -is bound to give if one is a good comrade. So Freiherr von Seleneck had -walked, and those who had observed him had envied the immaculate uniform -and the lordly bearing, making no guess at the empty pockets of the one -and the entire innocence of the other. For lordliness and Seleneck were -unknown to each other; and if he bore himself with a certain unconscious -assertiveness, it was because he wore the King's uniform, and not in the -least because he thought himself a great man. - -Somewhat to his surprise and disappointment, his wife was not at the -door to receive him when he arrived. The _Bursche_ who helped him off -with his coat told him the _gnädige Frau_ had visitors and was in the -drawing-room. Thither Seleneck at once repaired. Usually a sociable -and hospitable man, he felt he could have dispensed with guests in the -one hour of the day when he was certain of his wife's undivided company, -but his slight annoyance evaporated as soon as he saw who the visitors -were. Nora herself occupied the sofa, and her fair young face, lit by a -faint, almost embarrassed, smile of greeting, inspired Seleneck with the -brilliant reflection that she had no doubt come to confide the trouble, -whatsoever it was, to his wife's sympathetic ears. The hope was -immediately dispelled, however, by Frau von Seleneck herself, who drew -his attention to the presence of a young man seated at the other end of -the room, nursing an elegantly booted foot with the air of profoundest -boredom. - -"I do not think you have met before," she said. "This is Frau von -Arnim's brother--Mr. Ingestre." - -Seleneck accepted the languidly outstretched hand with a feeling so akin -to alarm that he caught little more than a general impression of his -guest's appearance. It was not often that his good-natured, easy-going -wife rose to heights of real indignation, but when she did, the signs of -storm were not absent, and he had recognised them all too clearly in the -rather high-pitched voice and flushed face. Moreover, he became now -acutely aware of a certain strained politeness in the atmosphere which -had hitherto been unknown in the relations between the two women. Once -he even caught Nora's eyes fixed on his with such an expression of -trouble in their depths that he was convinced something unpleasant had -happened, and became almost indignant with his Elsa, who firmly refused -to allow the conversation to flow in any but the most cold and formal -channels. The young man took no part in the talk, halting and spasmodic -as it naturally became. He appeared to know no German; and as -Seleneck's English was of a limited description, intercourse between -them was more or less impossible. Seleneck took the opportunity to -study this new arrival, of whom he had indeed heard little that was -complimentary; but his cautious survey gave him no great satisfaction. -In truth, Berlin and the few weeks of unlimited freedom had not improved -Miles. He was, as always, scrupulously dressed and had a certain air of -the "man-about-town" which contrasted with his otherwise uneasy and -rather boorish manners. It was a little hard to imagine that he had -ever held a lieutenant's commission, still harder to believe that he was -Nora von Arnim's brother. There was no resemblance between the two, as -Seleneck noticed with satisfaction. Miles's face was round and sallow, -and he had a peculiar trick of furtively glancing about him which was -directly opposed to Nora's frank and at that moment defiant gaze. As a -matter of fact, though his critic did not know it, Miles had developed -on his father's lines, with the one difference that the Rev. John's -habits were those of a naturally nervous and diffident character, -whereas Miles, having no nerves to complain of, had still a rooted -objection to looking any one in the face. As he sat, alternately -staring at the carpet and casting curious, supercilious glances round -the poorly furnished drawing-room, Seleneck passed judgment on him. - -"You drink, and can't stand it," he thought, and then, remembering -Bauer, added, "and probably gamble." - -Which proved that Seneleck, though neither a diplomatist nor a -strategian, was at least something of a judge of character. - -At that moment Nora rose hastily to her feet. The conversation had -languished beyond hope of recovery, and, moreover, she had seen -something in her host's expression which made her cheeks burn with a -curious mixture of shame and anger. - -"We must really go," she said nervously. "We have stayed far too -long--I hope you will forgive us." - -"It is always a pleasure to see you, _gnädige Frau_," Seleneck answered -warmly. "You know that your welcome is always waiting you. And that -reminds me--we are giving a little dinner next week--quite _entre nous_, -you know--and of course it would not be complete without you and Wolff. -And your brother"--he turned to Miles with a bow, which was answered by -a blank stare--"I hope will do us the honour." - -He had spoken with unusual kindness, because he felt that his thoughts -at least had not been altogether hospitable, and he had every desire to -atone to Nora as far as lay in his power. A cough from Frau von -Seleneck warned him that he had instead been guilty of a mysterious -_faux pas_. Nora's colour had deepened, and she was playing restlessly -with her gloves. - -"It's very good of you," she stammered. "Frau von Seleneck has also -asked me--it was very kind. Of course I shall tell Wolff, and we will -let you know." - -The puzzled officer saw a scornful, angry smile pass over his wife's -face; and feeling that he was altogether out of his depths, he kissed -the extended hand and prepared to show his guests to the door of the -flat. - -At the general preparations for departure Miles Ingestre awoke from his -dreary contemplation of the imitation Turkish carpet and, extricating -one hand from his pocket, proffered it all round with signs of sincere -relief. Frau von Seleneck bowed and ignored the offer, and her farewell -with Nora was marked with a not less striking, if more inexplicable, -rigidity. - -Five minutes later, when her husband returned from his host's duties, he -found her in floods of angry tears. - -"_Mein liebes Kind!_" he exclaimed in despair. "Whatever is the matter? -Has anything serious happened?" - -"I have been insulted in my own house!" the little woman retorted, -dabbing her eyes fiercely with a minute pocket-handkerchief. "I should -hope that was serious enough!" - -"Insulted! By whom?" - -"By that--that English creature!" - -"Do you mean Frau von Arnim? But, _Menkenkind_!--she is your best -friend!" - -"She is nothing of the kind. She is a conceited, pretentious, -arrogant--oh! I don't know what, but I know I hate her with all my -heart. And as for that brother----" With a determined effort she -swallowed down a torrent of adjectives and sobbed huskily instead. - -Seleneck seated himself on the arm of her chair and patted her on the -shoulder. - -"Perhaps one day you'll tell me all about it," he suggested, and waited -patiently for results. - -After a moment, the desire to tell her story overcame the desire to have -a good cry, and Frau von Seleneck, leaning her head against her husband -and squeezing his hand violently at moments of more than usual -indignation, related the incidents which had led up to this climax. It -appeared, in the first place, that Nora had arrived at an entirely -inopportune moment. - -"I was in the middle of making something extra for your supper," Elsa -von Seleneck explained. "I shan't tell you what it is, as it is a -surprise, and may still turn out all right, though I should think it was -very doubtful, because Bertha is such an unutterable fool. At any rate, -had it been any one else I should have been very angry, but as it was -Nora I didn't mind so much. I told Bertha to bring her into the -kitchen, but then she said she had brought her brother with her, so I -came out. Well, of course I wasn't as tidy as I might have been, -but--look at me, please, Kurt. Is there anything in my appearance to -warrant anybody giggling?" - -Seleneck looked at his wife gravely. She was very flushed and hot, and -there was a suspicion of flour on the tip of her nose, which might have -aggravated a ticklish sense of humour; but Seleneck knew better than to -say so. - -"Certainly not!" he said. "Who dared giggle, pray?" - -"That--that boy!" Frau von Seleneck retorted. "Nora looked fearfully -upset, and at first I thought she was ashamed of him, but afterwards I -knew better--I knew she was ashamed of me!" - -"My dear!" her husband protested. - -"It's true--perfectly true. You wouldn't have recognised her. You know -how sweet she was when she first came--so nice and grateful and -simple--I really had quite a _Schwärmerei_ for her. Everybody had--they -couldn't help it. She won all hearts with her broken German and her -girlish, happy ways. Well, to-day she was intolerable--stiff as a -poker, my dear, and as disagreeable as a rheumatic old major on -half-pay. I couldn't get a friendly word out of her, and all the time I -could see her studying my dress and the furniture, as though she were -trying to find the prices on them. As for that boy, he went on -giggling. Every time I made an English mistake, he sniggered"--the -little woman's voice rose with exasperation. "He tried to hide it -behind his hand, but of course I saw, and it made me so angry I could -have boxed his ears!" - -"Pity you didn't," said Seleneck. "_Dummer Junge!_" - -"That wasn't the worst. I tried to be friendly. I asked them both to -dinner next week--and what do you think? She looked ever so -uncomfortable, and said she was very sorry, but she was afraid they -could not manage it. I don't know what excuse she meant to give, but -that--that boy went and blurted the truth out for her. It appears that -he had been to a dinner party last week and had been bored to -extinction. At any rate, he said that wild horses, or some such -creatures, wouldn't drag him to another business like that, and then he -set to work and made fun of everything. My dear, I don't know what -dinner it was, but it was exactly like ours will be--exactly, from the -soup to the cheese!" - -Seleneck pulled his moustache thoughtfully. - -"He wasn't to know that," he said in faint excuse. - -"But Nora knew, and she never said a word, never even tried to stop him; -and when I said that I thought it was very bad manners to make fun of -people whose hospitality one had enjoyed, she flared up and said that -her brother was English, and that English people had different ways, and -couldn't help seeing the funny side of things--she saw them herself!" - -Seleneck got up and paced about restlessly. The matter was more serious -than he thought, and an instinctive wisdom warned him that for the -present at any rate it would be better to keep his troubles about Wolff -to himself. - -"I wonder what is the matter with them all?" he said at last. "Of -course, the brother is simply an ill-behaved cub, but I confess I do not -understand Frau von Arnim. She was always so amiable, and everybody -thought Wolff the luckiest fellow alive--except myself." - -"I can tell you exactly what is the matter," his wife said more calmly -and with some shrewdness, "Marriage, after all, doesn't work miracles, -and Frau von Arnim is no more German than I am Chinese. She is English -right to the core, and at the bottom of everything she despises and -hates us and our ways. They are not good enough for her any more, and -she wants to go back to her own life and her own people. It was all -right so long as she was alone with Wolff in the first few months. One -didn't notice the gulf so much, but now she has her brother to remind -her and support her, it will widen and widen. See if what I say is not -true!" - -"It's a very bad outlook for poor Wolff if it _is_ true," Seleneck said -gloomily. "He is absolutely devoted to her." - -"Nevertheless, it will end badly," his wife answered, preparing to make -her departure. "It is I who tell you so. Race and nationality are -dividing oceans, and the man who tries to bridge them is a fool, and -deserves his fate." - -And with these words of wisdom she disappeared into the mysterious -region of the kitchen. - - - - - *CHAPTER VIII* - - *RISING SHADOWS* - - -Nora sat by the window and mended stockings. There was not very much -light, for although it was still early afternoon and the winter sun -stood high in the heavens, very few rays found their way into the -fourth-floor rooms of No. 22, Adler Strasse. As Miles had said more -than once, it was a poky hole. Nora remembered his words as she worked, -and she looked up and studied the tiny apartment with a wondering -regret. Yes; it was dark and poky; but why did the fact strike her so -clearly and so constantly? Why was she doomed to see everything and -everybody with another's eyes? For that was what had happened to her. -One short month ago, this place had been her paradise, her own -particular little Eden, and now it was a "poky hole"--because Miles had -said so and because her common sense told her that he was right. Had, -then, the magic which had blinded her against the reality ceased to act -its charm--or altogether lost its power? Surely not. Her eyes fell on -her husband's writing-table, with its burden of neatly arranged books -and papers, and something in her softened to wistful tenderness. In her -imagination she saw him sitting there, bent over his work in -all-absorbed interest. She saw the thoughtful, knitted brows, the -strong white hand guiding the pen through the intricacies of plans and -calculations, the keen, searching eyes which were never stern for her, -which, if they no longer flashed with the old unshadowed laughter, were -always filled with the same unshaken, unaltered love. And she in her -turn loved him. That she knew. There, and there alone, her brother's -barbed shafts had fallen short, or had broken harmless against the -steeled walls of defence. Her husband was still what he had always -been--the one and only man who had ever counted in her life. But there -was a difference. What the difference was she could not tell. Perhaps -just that change had come into her love which had come into his eyes. -It was still a great love, still unshaken, but it had lost the power of -glorying in itself, of being happy, of rejoicing in its own strength and -youth and unity. When Wolff entered the room her pulses quickened, but -it was with a curious, inexplicable pain, and when he went away she -breathed more easily. That most wonderful and rare of moments when they -had thought and felt and lived as though they were one mind, one body, -one soul had passed--perhaps for ever. They stood on different shores -and looked at each other over the dividing stream with sad eyes of love -and hopeless regret. - -How had it all come? Whose fault was it? Poor Nora felt she knew. The -spectre had risen in the same hour when Miles had leant back in the -_Drotschke_ and sighed with relief because Wolff had not accompanied -them. She had been angry at first, but the rough words had revealed -something to her which she would never otherwise have believed, -something in herself which had lain dormant and which now awoke, never -to rest again. It was not Miles's fault. Had it been, she would not -have hesitated to follow her mother's advice. But to have sent him away -would be a sign of weakness--and it would be useless. The -evil--whatsoever it was--lay in herself. It had always been there, but -she had not recognised it. Miles had shown her what she must sooner or -later have seen for herself. She had married a stranger from a strange -land, and he had remained a stranger, and the land had not become her -home. That was the whole matter. That she loved him, that his country -had offered her love and welcome did not alter the one great fact that -the faintest cry, the faintest call from her own people had drawn from -her an irrepressible answer of unchanged allegiance. She loved Wolff, -but in every petty conflict between him and her brother her heart had -sided against him; she had had a sincere affection for the Selenecks, -and in cold blood she knew that Miles had behaved boorishly towards -them; but she had grown to hate them because they had shown their -disapproval, and because _he_ hated them. - -In this strange, unseen conflict of influences Miles stood for more than -her brother; he stood for her whole race, for every inborn prejudice and -opinion, and his coming had revealed to her her own loneliness. She was -alone in a foreign land; she spoke a tongue which was not her tongue; -she lived a life in which she was, and must remain, a tolerated -stranger. Her seeming compliance had been no more than youth's -adaptability to a passing change. Her love and her ready enthusiasm had -blinded her, but Miles had torn down the scales from her eyes, and she -saw the life she lived as he saw it--as a weary round of dismal -pleasures, big sacrifices, endless struggle. She saw that her home was -poor and tasteless, that her friends were neither elegant nor -interesting, that they had other ideas, other conceptions of things -which to Nora were vitally important--that they were, in a word, -foreigners to her blood and up-bringing. - -It had been a terribly painful awakening, and in her desperate flight -from the full realisation of the change in her she had broken through -the circle which hedged in her life, and sought her escape on the -turbulent sea of another, more gilded society. She had tried to -intoxicate herself with the splendour and popularity so easily acquired. -The Frau Commerzienrat Bauer had received her with open arms, had -showered upon her delicate and sometimes indelicate attentions; she had -been fêted at the gorgeous entertainments given in her honour at the -over-decorated "palatial residence"; she had seen Miles's expression of -contemptuous criticism change for one of admiration, herself surrounded -by the adulation of men who, she was told, governed the world's finance; -she had heard the Frau Commerzienrat's loud voice proclaim her as "My -dear friend, Frau von Arnim"--and at the bottom of her heart she had -been nauseated, disgusted, wearied by it all. She had come back to the -close and humble quarters of her home with a sweet sense of its inner -purity and dignity, with the determination to make it the very centre of -her life. And then she had seen her husband's grave--as it seemed to -her, reproachful--face, the freezing disapproval of his circle, the -mocking satisfaction of her brother; and the momentary peace had gone. -She had felt herself an outcast, and, in hot, bitter defiance of the -order of things against which she had sinned, had returned thither, -where the opium flattery awaited her. But through it all she loved her -husband, desperately, sincerely. As she sat there bent over her work, -she thought of him in all the glamour of the first days of their -happiness, and a tear rolled down her cheek, only to be brushed quickly -away as she heard his footstep on the corridor outside. - -"How tired he sounds!" she thought, and suddenly an immense pity mingled -with the rekindling tenderness, and shone out of her eyes as she rose to -greet him, like a reflex from earlier days. - -He looked tired to exhaustion. The rim of his helmet had drawn a deep -red line across his broad forehead, and there were heavy lines under the -eyes. Nevertheless, his whole face lit up as he saw her. - -"May I come in, Nora?" he asked, with a glance at his dusty -riding-boots. "We have been surveying, and I am not fit for a lady's -drawing-room; but if I tiptoed----" - -"Of course you may come in," she cried cheerfully, thankful that the -light was behind her. "I have been waiting for you, and tea is quite -ready. Sit down, and I will bring you a cup." - -He obeyed willingly, and followed her with his eyes as she bustled -around the room. It was like old times to find her alone, to see her so -eager to attend to his wants. When she came to him with his cup he drew -her gently down beside him, and she saw that his face was full of tender -gratitude. - -"You kind little wife!" he said. "It's worth all the fatigue and worry -just to come back and be spoilt. What a long time it seems since we -were alone and since you 'fussed' over me, as you used to call it." - -There was no reproach or complaint in his voice, and yet she felt -reproached. She lifted her face to his and kissed him remorsefully. - -"Have I neglected you, Wolff?" - -"Not a bit, dear. I only meant--of course, one can't go on being newly -married for ever, but it has its charm to go back and pretend; hasn't -it?" - -"You talk as though we had been married for years!" she said in a -troubled tone. "And it is scarcely seven months." - -"Seven months can be a long time," he answered gravely. "It all depends -on what happens." - -She had her head against his shoulder, and suddenly, she knew not why -nor how, she was transported back to that magic hour when he had first -taken her in his arms and an unhoped for, unbelievable happiness had -risen above her dark horizon. In a swift-passing flash she realised -that this was the man for whom she had fought, who had been everything -to her, without whom life had been impossible, and that now he was hers, -her very own, and that she had been cruel, unfaithful, and ungrateful. -She flung her arms impetuously about his neck and drew his head down -till it rested against her own. - -"Oh, Wolff, Wolff!" she cried. "Are you so very disappointed in me? -Has it only needed six months to show you what a hopeless little failure -I am?" - -"You--a failure?" He passed his hand gently over her hair. "You could -never be a failure, and I should be an ungrateful fellow to talk of -'disappointment.' You are just everything I thought and loved, my -English Nora." - -The name aroused her, startled her even. Was it only because it -emphasised what had already passed unspoken through her mind, or was it -because it seemed to have a pointed significance, perhaps an intended -significance? - -"Why do you call me 'English Nora'?" she asked, with an unsteady laugh. -"I am not English any more. I am your wife, Wolff, and you are _ein -guter Deutscher_, as you say." - -He nodded, his eyes fixed thoughtfully in front of him. - -"Yes, I am German, bone and blood," he said. "That's true enough. And -you are my wife. I wonder, though----" - -He stopped, and then suddenly he bent and lifted her like a child in his -arms and carried her to the big chair opposite. - -"Now I can see you better," he said quietly. "I want to ask you -something which your face will tell me better than your words." - -He had fallen on one knee beside her and was looking her earnestly in -the eyes. She bore his scrutiny, but only with a strong effort of the -will. She felt that he was looking straight into the secret places of -her heart, that he was reading the pain that her words, "I am not -English any more," had caused her and how little they were true. - -"Tell me," he said, "are you happy, Nora? Are you not the one who is -disappointed?" - -"I? Wolff, how should I be? how could I be?" - -"All too easily--sometimes I think inevitably. I am not blind, Nora. I -see how petty and small your life must be compared to what you perhaps -thought--to what might have been. The people you meet are accustomed to -it all--at least they have learnt to make the best of what little they -have; but you have come from another world and another life. You are -accustomed to breadth and light and freedom. You have never known this -brilliant poverty which we know so well, and it is hard on you--too hard -on you. I have never seen it all so clearly as I see it now. If I had -seen it then I would have trampled my love for you underfoot rather than -have asked so great a sacrifice. But I was blinded--I did not -understand----" - -"Wolff, have I complained? Have I been so ungrateful--so wicked?" - -"No, Nora. You have been very brave and good, but I have seen, and I -have reproached myself bitterly--terribly. When I came in to-night and -saw that you had been crying, I felt that I would do anything--that I -would give you up----" - -He stopped short, and with a pang of indescribable pain she felt that -this soldier kneeling at her feet was fighting for his voice, that his -quick, broken sentences had been the outburst of a long-suppressed and -bitter struggle. - -"I love you, Nora," he stammered roughly. "I love you with my life and -soul and body, but if your happiness required it I would give you up--to -your people----" - -"Wolff!" she interrupted passionately. - -"Listen, dear. I am not talking at random. I have thought it all over. -If I cannot make you happy, I will not make you unhappy. I will do -everything a man can do to atone for the one great wrong. Only tell me, -whilst I have the strength to part with you----" - -He stopped again, and she felt that he was trembling. There was -something infinitely pathetic in his weakness, something which called to -life not only her love for him as her husband but a wealth of a new and -wonderful tenderness such as a mother might feel for a suffering child. -She put her arms about him and drew his head against her breast. For -that moment she forgot everything save that he was miserable and that -she had made him so. - -"I will never leave you of my free will," she said. "Never! You will -have to chase me away, and then I shall come and sit on the doorstep and -wait for you to let me in. Oh, Wolff, my dearest, what foolish things -have you been thinking, and how long have you been brooding over them? -Don't you know that I could not live without you?" - -He lifted his face, searching hers with keen, hungry eyes, in which she -read doubt and a dawning hope. - -"Is that true, Nora?" - -"Yes; it is true!" - -"Be honest with me. Am I so much to you that you can be happy with -me--with my people and in my home and country?" - -He had asked the question which she had asked herself in moments of -pitiless self-examination, but, like her, he asked it too late. She -answered now earnestly, passionately, swept beyond all selfish -considerations on a tide of deep, sincere feeling. - -"Yes, I love you enough, Wolff. And if there have been any regrets, any -longings which have caused you pain, forgive them, my husband--above -all, understand them. They will pass--they must pass, because, at the -bottom, you are my all in all." - -He made no answer. He lifted her hand to his lips, and in the movement -there was a joy, a gratitude deeper than words could have expressed. -She felt that she had satisfied him, and she, too, felt satisfied. - -Thus they sat silent together, hand clasped in hand, his head against -her shoulder, whilst peace and a new happiness seemed to creep in about -them with the evening shadows. And in her young hope and confidence -Nora believed in this new happiness as she had believed in the old. It -seemed so strong, so invulnerable, the obstacles so petty, so mean. -They had been swept aside in a moment, like sand-castles before the -onrush of the sea, so that it seemed impossible, absurd, that she could -ever have thought of them as insurmountable. And yet, though heart and -mind believed in the change, another wider, less definable sense, which -we call instinct, remained doubtful and fearful. It was the one sign -that all was not as it had once been, that they had only outwardly -regained the past. Once they had lived for the future, longing for it -in their extravagant youth as for a time which must reveal to them new -wonders and joys. Now they clung anxiously to the present, scarcely -daring to move or speak lest the peace, the outward semblance of unity, -should be destroyed. Thus they sat silent together, each apparently -plunged in his own untroubled reflections, each in reality fighting back -thought as an enemy who might overshadow their victory. - -It was Arnim who at last spoke. He drew two letters from his pocket and -gave them to her. - -"The postman met me on the stairs," he said. "One is a disappointment -and the other the fulfilment of a wish. Which will you have first?" - -"The disappointment," she said, turning over the letters anxiously. "I -always keep the _bonne bouche_ for the last. But it has grown so dark -that I cannot see. You must tell me what is in both." - -"The one is from Aunt Magda," he answered. "It seems that the doctor has -ordered Hildegarde a longer trial of the baths at Baden-Baden, so that -their coming will be postponed a week or two at least. I am very sorry. -I had looked forward to the time when you would have them--to help you." - -It was the one faint intimation that he knew that she still needed help -and that all had not gone well in the short period of their married -life. Nora's face fell. Her very real disappointment proved to her how -much she had longed for the two women who had always been her friends, -even in the darkest hours. She loved them as mother and sister. She -had never felt for them the antipathy, the enmity which had grown up -between her and the Selenecks, and, in lesser degrees, between her and -all the other women of her husband's circle, and she had longed for them -as for a refuge from her increasing isolation. And now they were not -coming--or, at least, not for some weeks. She was to be left alone -among these strangers, these foreigners, with only Miles to support and -uphold her. Only Miles? She remembered her husband with a pang of the -old remorse, and she bent and kissed him as though to atone for some -unintentional wrong. - -"I am sorry they are not coming," she said; "but perhaps the baths will -do Hildegarde good, and as for me--why, have I not got my husband to -turn to?" - -Wolff laughed happily. - -"After that pretty speech, I must hold out some reward, so that the -practice may be encouraged," he said, waving the second letter in -triumph. "Behold! His Excellency General von Hulson has done himself -the honour to invite his future colleague, the Captain von Arnim, -_nebst_ his beautiful _Gemählin_ and honourable brother-in-law, to a -ball on the 17th of next month. Now, are you satisfied?" - -"How good you are to me, dear!" She kissed him, guiltily conscious that -her joy had been but a poor feigning. Now, for the first time, she -realised clearly how far she had drifted from her husband's circle. She -shrank from that which had once been the goal of her ambition. Wolff -laughed at her, mistaking the cause of her hesitation. - -"Verily, I am growing to be a wise husband!" he said gaily. "Are all -the fine dresses worn out, that my wife's fair face should be so -overcast? Well, there! Is that enough to cover future expenses, -Vanity?" - -He had pressed a little bundle of paper-money into her hand, and she -looked at it, dazed with surprise. She did not know that it was Bruno's -price which he had given her, but again her eyes filled. She pitied him -in that moment more than herself. - -"You dear, generous fellow!" she stammered mechanically. - -"It's not generosity, little woman. It's only right that you should -have change and gaiety. You must not think that I do not understand how -dull and dreary it must sometimes be. I do understand--it goads me -sometimes to think how little I can do. Perhaps one day it will all be -better--when I am Field-Marshal, you know!" - -He tried to laugh, but somehow a certain weariness rang through his -laughter. She heard it, and remorse mingled with her pity. - -"You must not worry about all that," she said gently. "I must be a poor -kind of wife if I am not satisfied as I am." She repeated her words to -herself, and felt that there was bitter truth in them. - -For a moment Wolff remained silent. She thought he was resting, but -presently he spoke again, and she knew that he had been preparing -himself to approach a graver subject. - -"Nora, there is something I want you to do for me, something I want you -to promise." - -She looked anxiously down into his face. - -"What is it, dear?" - -"I want you to associate less with Bauer--and with Bauer's relations." - -"Why?" - -The one word sounded a defiance. Wolff rose from his kneeling position -and stood at her side, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. - -"Because he is a man I do not trust. It is not my way to speak against -a comrade or to accuse lightly, but I have sure reason for asking what I -do of you. No man and no woman is the better for Bauer's friendship." - -"Does that mean that you do not trust me?" - -She was angry now--without just cause or reason, simply because she saw -in him the embodiment of all the prejudices of the class which had dared -to look askance at her. A grave smile passed over her husband's face. - -"You know I trust you, Nora; but in our position we must avoid even the -appearance of evil. Not so much as a breath of scandal must tarnish my -wife's name." - -"Ah, '_your_ wife'!" she said bitterly. - -"----who is myself," he added. - -There was a moment's silence before he went on: - -"It is not only of you I was thinking, Nora. There is Miles to be -considered. He is very young, and possibly easily influenced. No one -can tell into what difficulties--what temptations he might be led by -unscrupulous hands. Surely you sympathise with me in this?" - -"My brother is no more likely to act dishonourably than myself," she -answered, and again it was her race rather than Miles that she defended. -"Nor do I believe Captain Bauer to be the man you describe. He has been -very kind to me, and I know to what influence I must ascribe your -prejudices. The Selenecks have always hated my--my friendship with the -Bauers. No doubt they told you that the Commerzienrat has stolen his -wealth." - -She regretted her words as soon as they had been spoken. In her angry -conviction that her conduct had been criticised--perhaps justly -criticised--she had allowed herself to say more than she had meant, more -even than she believed to be true. - -"You are not just to me, Nora," Wolff answered quietly. "I have said -nothing against the Bauers--I know nothing against them. But they are -very rich, and it is their wealth which makes your association with them -undesirable. We are poor--our friends are poor. We cannot entertain as -they do. And we belong to another class--not a better class, perhaps, -but one with other aims and other ideals. You cannot belong to both." - -"At the bottom, you do think your class superior," Nora interposed -scornfully. - -"Perhaps I do--perhaps you do, when you are honest with yourself, dear. -You must know that the Bauers' friendship for you is not wholly -disinterested. It sounds rather brutal; but those sort of people who -talk of money as the one thing that counts and pretend to scorn family -and titles are just those who are most anxious to have a titled name -among their visitors." - -Nora started as though she had been stung. - -"I think you overestimate your--our importance," she said. - -He did not retort. He simply held out his hands to her. - -"Nora, you can't think it gives me pleasure to spoil anything for you. -Won't you trust me? Won't you give me your promise?" - -She looked at him; she was honest enough to acknowledge to herself that -he had been right, but above all, his patience, his quiet tone of -pleading had moved and softened her. - -"I give you my promise, Wolff." - -"Thank you, dear. Goodness knows, I will try and make it up to you in -all I can." - -He kissed her, and then suddenly she drew away from him. - -"You don't need to make up for it. And I think, after all, I won't go -to the Hulsons." - -He looked at her in blank surprise. He had sold his favourite horse to -satisfy her needs, he had humbled his pride, laid himself open to the -accusation of being a "place-hunter" in order to be able to lead her -into the brilliant world after which she had once craved, and now that -the sacrifices had been brought she would have none of them. He did not -understand--as how should he have done?--that she saw in his action an -attempt to bribe her, in his gift a sweetmeat offered to a disappointed -child. He felt, instead--though he would not have admitted it even in -his thoughts--that she had been capricious, inconsiderate. - -He turned away and went over to the writing-table, throwing down the two -letters with a gesture of weariness. - -"We must go now, whether we want to or not," he said. "I have worried -for the invitation, and it is impossible to refuse. The Selenecks would -have every right to be offended." - -"They are that already," Nora said bitterly. - -"Perhaps they have some reason to be, dear." He spoke quietly, but he -had implied that the fault was hers, and the angry blood rushed to her -cheeks. - -"The Selenecks are absurd and ridiculously sensitive," she said. "They -have chosen to take offence at nothing, and----" - -"Nora, they are my best friends!" - -"Is that any reason why they should be mine?" - -"Yes, I think so." - -"And if I do not like them--if I find their manners and ways too -different to mine--what then?" - -There was a faint sneer in tone and look which was intentional, and -which she knew was undeserved, but she could not help herself. She -hated the Selenecks and the whole crowd of small military nobodies -struggling for advancement and their daily bread. Why should she be -forced to live her life amongst them? - -Wolff made no answer to her question. He was sufficiently calm to feel -with its full poignancy how fleeting and unstable their newly won -happiness had been. The barrier was raised again--the more formidable -because it had been once so easily overcome. Yet, with the tenacity of -despair he clung to the appearance of things, and kept his teeth -tight-clenched upon an angry, bitter retort. He was spared all further -temptation. The door-bell rang, and he turned to Nora with a quiet -question as though nothing had happened. - -"Is that Miles, or is he at home?" - -"It is Miles, probably. He has been out all the afternoon." - -She, too, had recovered her self-possession and was grateful to him for -having ignored her outburst. Nevertheless she knew that he would not -forget, any more than she would be able to do. - -"Where has he been, do you know?" - -"I am not sure. He found it very dull here, and went out with some -English friends he has picked up. Is there any harm in that?" - -Again the same note of sneering defiance! Wolff kept his face steadily -averted. - -"Not so far. But I do not like his English friends." - -"I suppose not," she retorted. "Everybody here hates us." - -"Us----?" He turned at last and looked at her. - -"----the English, I mean," she stammered. - -He had no opportunity to reply. The door opened, and their little -maid-of-all-work entered, bearing a card. - -"A gentleman to see the _gnädige Frau_," she said. "Shall I show him -in?" - -Nora took the card. She looked at it a long time. Even in the -half-darkness her pallor was so intense that it caught Wolff's -attention. He saw her stretch out her hand blindly as though seeking -support. - -"What is it? What is the matter?" he asked. - -She lifted her eyes to his, staringly, stupidly. He felt that she -hardly saw him. - -"Nothing--it is an old friend--from England." - -The sound of her own voice seemed to bring her to her senses. She -handed him the card, and her manner from stunned bewilderment changed to -something that was intensely defiant. There was a moment's silence. -Then Arnim turned to the waiting servant. - -"Show him in here," he ordered. - -"Wolff--how do you know I wish to see him?" - -"An old friend--who has come so far to see you? You surely cannot do -otherwise. Besides, why should you not want to see him?" - -He looked at her in steady surprise, so that the suspicion which for one -moment had flashed up in her mind died down as quickly as it had come. -_He did not know--he could not know_. But the consciousness of coming -disaster weighed upon her like a crushing burden. - -"There is no reason. Only I thought you might not wish it." - -"Your friends are my friends," he answered gravely. - -And then the door opened a second time, and Robert Arnold stood on the -threshold. - - - - - *CHAPTER IX* - - *ARNOLD RECEIVES HIS EXPLANATION* - - -A great physical change had come over him in the few months of his -absence. He was pale and gaunt-looking, as though he had but lately -risen from a serious illness, and his eyes, which fell at once on Nora's -face, were hollow and heavily underlined. - -Nora noticed these details with the sort of mechanical minuteness of a -mind too stunned to grasp the full magnitude of the situation. One side -of her intellect kept on repeating: "Why has he come? Why has he come?" -whilst the other was engrossed in a trivial catalogue of the changes in -his appearance. "He stoops more--he is thinner," she thought, but she -could not rouse herself to action. Arnold, indeed, gave her little -opportunity. After the first moment's hesitation he advanced and held -out his hand. - -"I ought to have let you know of my coming, Nora," he said, "but I could -not wait. I have just arrived in Berlin, and of course my first visit -had to be to you. I hope I have not chosen an inconvenient time?" - -He was trying to speak conventionally, and was successful, insomuch that -Nora understood that she had at present nothing to fear from him. Not -that she felt any fear now that the first shock was over. It was with a -certain dignity and resolution that she looked from one man to the -other. - -"This is my husband, Robert," she said, "and this, Wolff, is my old -playfellow, Captain Arnold." - -Wolff held out his hand frankly. - -"I am glad to meet you," he said. "I am glad for my wife's sake when -she has the chance of seeing her old friends. I hope, therefore, that -your stay in Berlin is to be a long one?" - -Arnold bowed. - -"I am on my way home to England," he said. "How long I remain depends on -circumstances." - -"May the circumstances be favourable, then!" Wolff returned. His tone -was warm--almost anxiously friendly, and Nora looked at him in surprise -and gratitude. His smiling face betrayed no sign of the devil which he -had grappled with and overcome in one short moment of struggle. He -nodded cheerfully at her. - -"I am afraid you must play hostess alone for a little, dear," he said. -"Captain Arnold, as a soldier you will understand that duty can't be -neglected, and you will excuse me. I have no doubt you will have a -great deal to talk about, and at supper-time I shall hope to have the -pleasure of meeting you again. Whilst you are in Berlin you must -consider this your _pied-à-terre_." - -"You are very kind," Arnold stammered. Like Nora, he too was -impressed--uncomfortably impressed--by the impetuous hospitality with -which Wolff greeted him. Like Nora, also, he had no means of knowing -that it was the natural revolt of a generous nature from the temptings -of jealousy and suspicion. - -Wolff had lighted a small lamp, which he carried with him to the door, -together with a bundle of documents. For a moment he hesitated, looking -back at Nora, and the light thrown up into his face revealed an -expression of more than usual tenderness. - -"Don't talk yourself tired, Frauchen," he said as he went out. - -Nora smiled mechanically. She had had the feeling that the words were -nothing, that he had tried to convey an unspoken message to her which -she had neither understood nor answered. She gave herself no time to -think over it. She switched on the electric light, and turned to -Arnold, who was still standing watching her. - -"Sit down, Robert," she said. "As Wolff said, we have a great deal to -say to each other--at least, I fancy you have come because you have a -great deal to say to me." - -Her words contained a slight challenge, which, the next moment, she felt -had been out of place. Arnold sank down in the chair nearest to hand. -It was as though he had hitherto been acting a part, and now let the -mask fall from a face full of weary hopelessness. - -"You are right," he said. "I have something to say, Nora--I suppose, -though, I ought to call you Frau von Arnim?" - -"You ought," she answered, irritated by his tone. "But it does not -matter. I don't think Wolff minded." - -A grim smile passed over Arnold's lips. - -"Wolff seems a good-natured sort of fellow," he said. There was again -something disparaging in his tone which brought the colour to Nora's -cheeks. - -"He is everything I could wish," she answered proudly. And then the -hollow cheeks and sunken eyes reminded her that she had done this man a -cruel injury, and her heart softened with pity and remorse. - -"How pale and thin you have grown!" she exclaimed. "Have you been ill?" - -"Very ill," he answered. "I caught some swamp fever or other out there -in the wilds, and it was months before they could get me back to the -coast. That is why you never heard from me. As soon as I reached port -I set straight off for home--to you." - -"To me----!" she repeated blankly. - -He nodded. - -"Yes; to the woman I believed was to be my wife." - -"Then you never got my second letter?" - -"Did you write a second letter?" - -He was looking her earnestly in the eyes, and there was a stifled, -tragic wretchedness in his own which was terrible to look on. - -"I wrote and explained everything," Nora, answered, controlling her -voice with an effort. "I have behaved badly to you, but not so badly as -to leave you undeceived." - -"You sent me an explanation," he said slowly. "Nora, it is that -explanation which I have come to seek. When I first heard of your -marriage, I made up my mind that you were not worth suffering for. I -thought that I would go back to the forest and forget you--if I could. -I meant never to see you again--I felt I could not bear it. But, Nora, -a man's love is not only a selfish desire for possession. If he loves -truly, he puts into that love something of himself which is a vital part -of his life and being--his ideals and his whole trust. I suffered--not -only because I had lost you, but because I had lost my faith in every -one. You seemed so good and true, Nora. I felt I could never trust -another woman again. That was unbearable. For my own sake I had to come -and ask you--if you could explain." - -He stopped abruptly, and there was a little silence. He had spoken -without passion, simply in that weary monotone of those who have risen -from great physical or mental suffering; and Nora's heart ached with the -knowledge that she alone had brought this ruin upon him. - -"You said, 'When I first heard of your marriage,'" she began at last. -"When and how was that?" - -"From Frau von Arnim," he answered. "I thought you might still be with -her at Karlsburg, and the place lay on my route. It was Frau von Arnim -who told me." - -"Then--she knows everything?" - -He saw the alarm on her face. - -"As much as I know. Forgive me, Nora; it was inevitable--I could not -believe what she told me. I am the more sorry because she is a hard, -cold woman who will make trouble. That is another reason why I have -come. I wanted to warn you." - -Nora made a quick gesture--half of dissent, half of doubt. - -"You misjudge her," she said. "She will forgive and understand, as you -must. Oh, Robert, it makes me miserable to think I have caused you so -much pain, but if I had to live my life again I could not have acted -otherwise than I did!" - -Her voice had grown firmer, and as she spoke she turned from her -position by the window and faced him with quiet confidence. - -"I acted for what I believed to be the best, Robert," she said. "It was -perhaps wrong what I did, but I did not mean it to be--I meant to be -just and honourable. But I was not strong enough. That was my one -fault." - -Her clear, earnest tones brought back the light to the tired eyes that -watched her. - -"I am glad," he said. "I am glad that you can explain. That is all I -have come for, Nora--to hear from your own lips that you are not -ashamed." - -"I am not ashamed," she answered steadily. And then, in a few quick -sentences she told him everything that had led up to that final moment -when Wolff had taken her in his arms and the whole world had been -forgotten. As she spoke, the past revived before her own eyes, and she -felt again a faint vibration of that happiness which had once seemed -immortal, indestructible. - -"I did not deceive you," she said at last, with convincing sincerity. -"I wrote and told you that I would marry you--not that I loved you. I -knew I did not love you, because my love was given elsewhere. I loved -Wolff already then, but there was a barrier between us which I believed -to be insurmountable. I consented to become your wife because it seemed -the best and safest thing to do. Afterwards--it was almost immediately -afterwards--the barrier proved unavailing against our love, and I forgot -you. That is the brutal truth. I forgot you until it was too late, -because, you see, I did not feel more for you than friendship, and -because I really loved. That was weak, no doubt, but I had never loved -before, and it was too strong for me. A wiser woman would have waited -until she was free. She would have written to you and told you that it -was all a mistake. I wrote to you afterwards. That is the only -difference. The letter did not reach you, and you believed the worst of -me. It was only natural, and I know I am to blame, but oh! if you -really love, surely you can understand?" - -He smiled at her unconscious cruelty, and, rising, took the outstretched -hands in his. - -"I do understand," he said, "and the blame is all mine. I should never -have accepted your generous gift of yourself without your love. I might -have known that it would end badly. But you were so young, dear. I -thought I should be able to teach you to love. Well, some one else was -cleverer and had a better chance, perhaps, than I had. I have no right -to blame, nor do you need to feel any remorse on my account. The worst -wound is healed now that I can understand. My one prayer is that you -may be very, very happy." He studied her upturned face. "You are -happy, aren't you, Nora?" - -For the shortest part of a minute she wavered. She repeated the question -to herself and wondered. - -"Yes, of course I am happy," she replied almost impatiently. "Why -should I not be?" - -"I don't know. Perhaps I am over-anxious for you. You see"--his faint -smile betrayed how deep his emotion was, in spite of all -self-control--"I still love you." - -"I am glad," she answered frankly. "I care for you too, Robert, quite -enough to make me very sad if I should lose your regard. It made me -miserable to think that you probably hated and despised me." - -"I never did that, though I believe I tried," he said. "And now that I -may not give you my love, I may at least feel that I am your friend? -Grant me that much, Nora. It is very little that I ask--your trust and -friendship." - -It was indeed very little that he asked, and he had been more generous -to her than she could have ever dared to hope. And yet she hesitated. - -"Nora!" he cried "Surely I have not deserved to lose everything!" - -He was pleading as a beggar might have pleaded for the crumbs beneath -the table, and all that was generous in her responded. The hesitation, -the vague uneasiness passed. She gave him her hand. - -"Of course! We have always been friends--we must always be friends." - -"Thank you, dear. That is a great deal to me. No other woman will ever -come into my life." - -"Don't!" she exclaimed, painfully moved. "You make me feel that I have -spoilt your life." - -"But you haven't, Nora. You are just the only woman I could ever have -loved, and if I had not met you I should be even lonelier than I am. At -least I have your friendship." - -His tone was composed, almost cheerful, but she felt that he was at the -end of his strength, and when, after a quick pressure of the hand, he -went towards the door, she made no effort to recall him. Her own voice -was strangled, and perhaps her face revealed more than she knew, more -than she was actually conscious of feeling--a regret, an appeal, an -almost childish loneliness. As though answering an unexpected cry of -pain, he turned suddenly and looked at her. He saw the all-betraying -tears, and the next minute he had come back to her side and had taken -her hands and kissed them. - -"You must not!" he said gently. "You are to be happy--as I am. Forgive -me; it is the seal upon our friendship--and a farewell." - -She had not resisted. She would have forgiven him, because she -understood; she would have put the moment's surrender to passion from -her memory as something pardoned, but fate took the power of forgiving -and forgetting from her. For the door had opened, and Miles stood on -the threshold, watching them with an expression of blank amazement on -his flushed, excited face. - -Arnold turned, too late conscious that they were not alone, and Miles's -amazement changed to a loud delight. - -"If it isn't old Arnold!" he exclaimed, flinging coat and hat on to the -nearest chair and stretching out an unsteady hand. "Why, we thought you -were dead and buried in some African wilderness, didn't we, Nora?" - -"You were not far wrong, then," Arnold answered. "I was pretty well done -for once, and am only just beginning to feel that I really belong to -this world again." He had recovered his self-possession with an effort, -and he went on quickly, almost as though he were afraid of Miles's next -words: "I was on my way home, and took Berlin as a break. Of course I -had to come and see you all." - -Miles nodded. - -"Decent of you," he said thickly. "Nora will be glad to have you in -this foreign hole. It's a sickening shame----" He stumbled and reeled -up against Arnold with an impatient curse. The momentary excitement -over the unexpected arrival had passed, leaving him bemuddled, in a dull -but unmistakable state of intoxication. Arnold took him by the arm and -helped him to the nearest chair. - -"You are a young fool," he said good-naturedly. "German beer isn't so -harmless as you seem to think. What have you been doing with yourself?" - -Miles passed his hand over his forehead with a helpless movement, as -though he were awakening from a dream. - -"It's not the drink," he stammered. "It's not the drink, I tell you. -It's--it's the money. I'm in a devil of a mess. These dirty -foreigners----" - -"Oh, hush!" Nora cried. For the moment disgust and anger had passed. -She had heard Wolff's footstep in the adjoining room, and a sudden -terror had come over her. "Robert, take him away--quick! And come back -afterwards--Wolff may not ask for him whilst you are here. Oh, help -me!" - -Arnold nodded silently. He lifted the hapless Miles and half dragged, -half carried him from the room. He had no thought as yet of the future. -It had been revealed to him in a flash that all was not well in Nora's -life; he had seen something like despair in her face, and knew that she -needed the strong hand of a friend. - -"And I am that--nothing else," he thought as he closed Miles's door -behind him. "No one can blame me if I claim the rights of friendship -and help her--no one!" - -But Captain Robert Arnold, sure of his own honour, forgot that the -world, being less honourable, might also be of another opinion. - - - - - *CHAPTER X* - - *NEMESIS* - - -It was her at-home day. As she sat there, with her hands clasped -listlessly on her lap, it seemed as though in imagination she saw the -ghosts of other days arise--days where the little room had been crowded -with eager, chattering friends who had come to tell her and each other -the latest news of their servants, their husbands or the service, or to -be "intellectual," as the case might be. She thought she saw Frau von -Seleneck seated on the sofa opposite her, her round, rosy face bright -with an irrepressible optimism; she thought she heard the rich, -contented chuckle, and felt the maternal pat upon her arm. Then her -vision cleared, and the ghosts vanished. The little room was empty of -all but shadows, and she was alone. - -Presently the door of her husband's study opened. She heard him come -towards her, and knew that he was standing at her side; but she did not -look up. She felt for the moment too listless, too weary, above all too -proud to let him see how deeply her new isolation wounded her. - -"All alone, dear?" - -"Yes, all alone." - -"I thought it was your at-home day?" - -She tried to laugh. - -"Yes, so it is. But no one has come, you see." - -"How is that?" - -Then she looked up at him. - -"You know quite well. Everybody hates me." - -"Nora! That is not true." - -She nodded. - -"It is quite true. The Selenecks have taken care that none of my -misdeeds should go forgotten. They can't forgive my--my intimacy with -other people, or my nationality." - -"Your nationality?" - -She got up with an impetuous, angry movement. - -"Yes, my nationality." - -He stood looking at her. A new expression had come into his grave -face--an expression of sudden understanding, of indescribable pain. -Then he came towards her and put his arm about her shoulders. - -"My little wife, don't, for God's sake, don't let that come between us! -Be brave, fight it down. It will only be for a time. Our--my people -are easily hurt. They think, perhaps, you despise them for their sober -ways--that they are not good enough for you. Be kind to them, and they -will come back. They would forgive you anything." - -She drew back from him. - -"I do not want their forgiveness. I do not want them. I am happiest -alone." - -He made no answer, but went slowly towards the door. She knew that she -had hurt him, and in her bitterness and wounded pride it gave her a -painful satisfaction to know that he too suffered. Yet she loved him; -she knew, as he stood there with bent head, that she would give her life -for him--only she could not surrender herself, her individuality, the -old ties of blood and instinct. She could not, would not break down the -barrier which her race built between them. She was too proud, perhaps -too hurt to try. - -Suddenly Arnim looked up. His features were quiet and composed, and the -gathering twilight hid the expression in his eyes. - -"Nora, where is Miles?" - -"Still in bed. He--he is not feeling well." - -"The effects of yesterday?" He laughed grimly. "It seems to me, dear, -that your brother would be the better for some occupation--in his own -country." - -"You wish him to go?" - -He met her challenge with an unfaltering determination that was yet -mingled with tenderness and pity. - -"I think it better--before it is too late." - -"What do you mean?" - -"Before he ruins himself--or us." - -"Wolff, you are not fair. You are unjust." - -He smiled sadly. - -"I hope I am. Good-bye, little woman. I shall try and be back early. -But perhaps Arnold will come--and then you will not be alone." - -He went out, closing the door quietly behind him. The protest died on -her lips; an icy sense of isolation crept over her, obliterating for the -moment all thought of his injustice, of the slight which he had cast -upon her brother. In her sudden weakness she held out her arms towards -the closed door and called his name, feebly, like a frightened child -crying in the dark. But he did not come back. She heard his spurs -jingle with a mocking cheerfulness--and then silence. So she went back -to her place by the window and sat there, holding back with a pitiful -pride the tears that burnt her eyes. - -Presently the door opened again. She thought he had come back, and with -all her pride her heart beat faster with a momentary, reasonless hope. -Then she heard the click of the electric light and a man's voice -speaking to her. - -"_Gnädige Frau_, may I come in?" - -She sprang to her feet as though the voice had been a blow, and saw -Bauer standing on the threshold, bowing, a curious half-ironical smile -playing about his mouth. For the moment she could neither think nor -speak, but out of the depths of her consciousness arose the old -aversion, the old instinctive dread. She knew then, warned by that same -occult power, that the time had come when the dread should receive its -justification. - -"I found the door open, and ventured to enter unannounced," Bauer went -on calmly. "I knew from experience that the usual formalities would -lead to no result. You have been 'out' a great deal of late, _gnädige -Frau_." He came towards her without hesitation, and, taking her passive -hand, kissed it. "Am I forgiven?" - -His absolute ease of manner checked the rise of her indignation. She -felt herself strangely helpless. Yet her dignity--her dignity as -Wolff's wife--came to her rescue. She looked steadily into the still -smiling face. - -"If I have been often out, it has not been a mere chance, Herr -Rittmeister," she answered. "It has been of intention--an intention -which you would have been wiser to respect." - -"I see no good reason why I should respect your husband's 'intentions,' -_gnädige Frau_," he retorted calmly. - -"My husband's wishes are mine." - -"Really?" He laughed, and then grew suddenly serious. "In any case, it -seems to me that I--we have a right to some sort of an explanation. To -put it baldly--there was a time when it pleased you to accept my -sister-in-law's hospitality and friendship. Now, it seems, neither she -nor I are good enough for you." - -Nora flinched involuntarily. She knew that the reproach was a just one, -but she knew too that Wolff had been right and only she to blame. -Instinct again warned her. She saw danger in this man's cold eyes, in -which there yet flickered the light of some controlled passion either of -hatred or some other feeling to which she dared give no name. - -"You have a right to an explanation," she said at last, with an effort -controlling her unsteady voice. "Indeed, I owe you more than that--I owe -you an apology. It was a mistake for me to enter into a circle to which -I did not belong; only you will do me the justice to remember that it -was a mistake not altogether of my making." - -"_Gott, gnädige Frau!_" He laughed angrily. "You talk as though we -were the dirt under your feet. Is it your husband's petty nobility -which gives you the right to look at me like that? I too wear the -King's uniform--that is a point which you would do well to remember." - -"I have not forgotten it. And there is no question of contempt--I feel -myself, Heaven knows, superior to no one; but I repeat, it was a mistake -to accept kindness which could not be returned. Surely you can -understand----" She crushed down her pride, and in the effort her -bearing became prouder and colder. "We are poor, Herr Rittmeister, your -relations are rich and live as we cannot live. That alone is a barrier -between us." - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -"An excuse, _gnädige Frau_, an excuse! I know the opinions of your -husband's class too well not to know perfectly what you prefer not to -tell me. In any case, your considerations are a little belated. You -should have thought of all that before you allowed your brother to enter -into a circle"--he echoed her words with a kind of mocking -satisfaction--"in which he could not sustain his position." - -Nora started. She knew now that there was a menace in this man's looks -and words. She understood that he would never have acted as he had done -without the sure conviction that the power was in his hands. What that -power was she did not know--she only knew that she was afraid. - -"Sit down, _gnädige Frau_," he went on more calmly. "You look pale, and -I have something of importance to tell you. But before everything, I -want you to believe that I come to you as your friend." - -He motioned her to be seated in the chair which he had pushed towards -her, and she obeyed him passively. A sharply defined recollection of -their first meeting came back to her as she did so. Then, too, he had -acted with the insolent assurance of a man who knows himself master of -the situation; but then she had had the power of her independence. Now -she felt herself bound, helpless in the bonds of circumstance--and her -own folly. - -"It is of your brother I have come to speak," Bauer went on, taking his -place before her. "Nothing should prove my friendship better than the -fact that I have come in spite of the rebuff to which I knew I should -lay myself open. But I could not see the crisis break over you without -a word of warning--without offering you a helping hand." - -She looked at him in mingled astonishment and anger. His familiarity was -more terrible to her than his previous tone of menacing resentment. - -"I do not understand you," she said coldly. - -"Perhaps not. But you must surely be aware that your brother has not -been living the most austere of lives since his arrival in Berlin. It -may be that I am a little to blame. I thought by the way he talked that -he could well afford it, and encouraged him to share my life with me. -Well, it appears now that he bragged more than circumstances justified. -I do not speak of the money he owes me nor his gambling-debts to my -friends. Those I have already paid. It was not pleasant for me to be -associated with a defaulting gambler, and what I did I did for my own -sake. I ask no thanks or credit for it. But there are other matters." -He had undone the buttons of his military coat, and drew out a folded -sheet of paper, which he laid before her. "That is a rough list of your -brother's creditors, with the amounts attached," he said. "You will see -for yourself that he has understood the art of amusing himself." - -She took the list from him. The figures swam before her eyes and she -fought against a deadly faintness. From afar off she heard Bauer's voice -roll on with the unchanged calm of a lawyer for whom the matter had only -a professional interest. - -"At the bottom you will see the sum-total, _gnädige Frau_. It runs into -three figures, and it is possible that my list is not complete. The -worst of it is that your husband will be held responsible. The credit -would never have been given to Mr. Ingestre if his brother-in-law had -not been Herr von Arnim, captain on the general staff." - -Nora rose unsteadily to her feet. - -"It is impossible," she stammered incoherently. "I know--Wolff hasn't -the money--it is impossible. Oh, how could he have been so foolish--so -wicked!" And it was curious that in that moment she thought less of the -ruin which was bearing down upon her husband than of the disgrace which -had fallen upon her brother, of Wolff's justified contempt and the -triumph of his friends. Bauer had also risen and now took a quick step -to her side. - -"_Gnädige Frau_, your brother has only done what hundreds of young -fellows do. No doubt he hoped that he would have time enough allowed -him to pay. Unfortunately, there are war-scares flying about, and the -tradespeople are a little shy of English customers. I fear they will -press payment. But there is no need for you to worry. Your husband -need never even know that these debts existed. A word from you and they -are paid and forgotten." - -"What do you mean?" - -"I will pay them." - -"You?" - -"Yes, I." He came still closer, so that she could hear his quick, -irregular breathing. "You English are practical people," he went on, -with an attempted laugh. "You know that there is precious little done -out of pure charity in this world. If I help you out of this difficulty -it is on certain conditions." - -"I do not want to hear them----" - -"Why not? They are simple enough. The one is that you should renew -your friendship with my sister-in-law. It is awkward for her--this -sudden cooling off; and she has a right to expect some consideration -from you. The other concerns myself. I too must have your -friendship--more than that--you, your regard." He took her hands and -held them in a brutal, masterful grip. "You can't pretend you don't -know--you must have known I cared--from the beginning--you----" - -She wrenched herself free. She had seen his eyes and the hell in them, -and, inexperienced though she was, she knew that it was not even a -so-called love which he experienced, but a cruel thirst for conquest, -the hunger for revenge, the desire to retaliate where he had been -slighted and thwarted. She reached the door before he could restrain -her, and with her hand on the bell stood there facing him. She seemed -unnaturally calm, and her scorn for the man who had tried to trap her -lent her a dignity, a look of triumph which curbed his passion and held -him for the moment speechless. - -"Please go," she said. - -He bowed. - -"By all means. But I shall not take this as your final answer." - -"My husband will answer you--not I." - -"Do you know what that will mean?" - -"It will mean that I intend to have no secrets from him." - -"You misunderstand me. Do you know the consequences? Your husband, as -a man of honour, will challenge me. I shall have the choice of weapons, -and I swear to you that I will kill him." - -She said nothing. Her eyes had dilated, and every trace of colour had -left her face; but she retained her attitude of proud defiance, and he -went past her through the open door. - -"You see, I can be patient," he said, looking back at her. "My -sister-in-law is giving a ball on the 18th. If you are there I shall -understand. If not----" He shrugged his shoulders. "No doubt your -husband will see his way to settling Mr. Ingestre's troubles. As they -stand, they are likely to cost him his collar. _Auf Wiedersehen, -gnädige Frau_." - -He was gone. She waited until the last echo of his steps had died on -the wooden stairway, then she tottered forward and sank into Wolff's -chair, her face buried in her hands. She did not cry, and no sound -escaped her lips. She sat there motionless, bereft of thought, of hope, -almost of feeling. The end, the crisis to which she had been slowly -drifting was at hand. It seemed to her that she heard the roar of the -cataract which was to engulf her. And there was no help, no hope. - -It was thus Miles Ingestre found her an hour later. Knowing that Arnim -was out, he had donned a dressing-gown and now stood staring blankly at -his sister, his hair disordered, his yellow face a shade yellower from -the last day's dissipation. - -"Why, Nora!" he said sleepily. "What's the matter, old girl?" - -She looked up. His voice gave her back the power at least to act. - -"Rittmeister Bauer has been here," she said. "He gave me this. Is it -true?" - -He took the paper which she held towards him and studied it, rocking on -his heels the while in an uneasy silence. - -"Yes, it seems true enough. What the devil did he give it you for?" - -"He says the creditors are likely to press payment--and--and--Wolff will -be held responsible. Oh, Miles, what have you done? What have you -done?" - -The last words broke from her like a cry of despair. They seemed to -penetrate the thickness of Miles's phlegm, for he laid his hand on her -shoulder, his lips twitching with a maudlin self-pity. - -"It wasn't my fault, Nora. I didn't know what they were leading me -into. If Wolff had only helped me a bit--if he hadn't been such a -stuck-up prig, so beastly self-righteous. There, you needn't break out! -I can't help it--it's the truth; it's not all my fault." He ran his -shaky hand through his hair. "And, after all, there isn't so much to -make a fuss about. Everybody in our set does that sort of thing, and I -dare say Bauer will tide me over the worst. He's a decent fellow, and -beastly rich. Look here, Nora"--his shifty eyes took an expression of -stupid cunning--"if you asked him--you know he's a friend of yours--I'll -be bound he'd help me." - -Nora turned and looked at him. In that moment he seemed to her a -complete stranger. Then she gently loosened herself from his hand. She -did not answer. It was too useless. She rose and left him standing -there, the silly smile still playing about his lips. - - - - - *CHAPTER XI* - - *THE FETISH* - - -"Your mother is very ill," the Rev. John had written, "and I am in an -indescribable state of anxiety both on her account and yours. Everybody -here is quite certain that there is going to be war between us and -Germany. Only yesterday the squire was down here talking to me about -it. He says there is no hope, and that the conflict is bound to come. -I do not understand politics myself, but it seems the Germans are -determined to destroy us and get our power. It is very dreadful that a -whole nation should show itself so avaricious, and I am sure God will -help us punish so wicked and wanton an attack. All Delford is already on -foot, and quite a number of young men are thinking of enlisting in the -Territorials. The squire says it is a magnificent sight to see how the -whole country rises at the call of danger. He himself has done not a -little to help the general patriotic movement, and has opened a -shooting-range in a field, where he is teaching his men to shoot. The -sound of the guns makes me quite nervous, and is very bad for your poor -mother, but the squire says it is helping to produce the best shots in -Europe, so we must not complain, but bring our sacrifice to the -motherland with a cheerful countenance. Nevertheless, I am terribly -troubled. If war should break out--which God forbid!--what will become -of you, my poor child, out there in the enemy's country? Could you not -make your mother's health an excuse to come back to us, at any rate -until the present crisis is over? Wolff will surely understand that you -cannot stay in Germany if there is war. Find out from him what he -thinks of the chances, and notice if there are any signs of preparation. -If you can, come home. Your mother is very much against it, but she is -ill and hardly understands the seriousness of the situation. We must -all stand together in the moment of danger, and I am sure your heart is -aching for the dear old country, and that you are longing to be with us. -I have written to Miles that he is to return as soon as ever he thinks -fit. He seems to be very tied by his studies, so that I do not like to -press a hasty decision. You must talk it over together." - -Nora had received this letter by the afternoon's post. She was reading -it a second time when Wolff entered the room. He had on his parade -uniform, and the cheery clatter of his sword and spurs jarred on her -overstrung nerves. - -"Why this magnificence?" she asked, trying to disguise her unreasonable -irritability. "Is there anything unusual?" - -"A review to which I am commanded," he answered quietly. "I may be home -a little late for supper. I expect you will go and see Aunt Magda and -Hildegarde. They will think it curious if you do not go soon." - -"They have only just arrived," Nora said in the same tone of smothered -irritation. "I could not have gone before." - -Wolff bent over the back of her chair and kissed her. - -"Please go!" he said coaxingly. "You used to be fond of them both, and -they have been very good to us. Be nice to them--for my sake." - -She was silent a moment, as though struck by a new thought. Then she -nodded. - -"I shall go this afternoon. Robert was coming, but it does not matter." - -"Captain Arnold?" Wolff drew himself suddenly upright. "Were you -expecting him?" - -"Yes; he was coming to see me. Have you any objection?" - -She had heard the colder, graver note in his voice, and it stung her. -Was Arnold also to come between them--Arnold, in whose hands lay the one -chance of rescue from the coming catastrophe? Was her last friend to be -taken from her by a reasonless, unworthy distrust? She looked up into -her husband's tanned face with a directness which was not unlike -defiance. - -"_I_ have no objection," he answered her at last. "You know everything -pleases me that makes you happy. I only beg of you to be careful." - -"Careful!" she echoed. - -"Captain Arnold has been in Berlin a month," he went on. "It is obvious -that he has stayed for your sake, and for my part I am glad enough. But -there are the evil tongues, little wife." - -She sprang to her feet. If she could only have told him, only -unburdened her heart of its crushing trouble, then perhaps he would -understand, and the widening cleft between them be bridged. The words -of a reckless confession trembled on her lips; but she remembered Bauer -and his promise: "I swear I will kill him"; and the confession turned to -bitterness, to an impotent revolt against the circumstances of her life. - -"The evil tongues!" she echoed scornfully. "Why should I mind what they -say now? They have taken everything from me--all my friends. I have -only Robert left. Is it wrong to have friends in this country--friends -who do not listen to the verdict of--of enemies?" - -"It is not wrong, but it can be dangerous," he answered. "You have no -enemies, Nora, only people who do not understand you and whom you have -hurt. You have always been unfortunate in your friends. They have all -stood between you and those to whom, by your position, you belong." - -"You mean that if Arnold were German--'one of us,' as you would say--it -would not matter?" - -"Not so much." - -She laughed angrily. - -"How jealous you are!" she exclaimed. "How petty and jealous!" - -"Nora!" He was white to the lips, and the hand which had fallen -involuntarily on his sword-hilt showed every bone of the knuckles, so -tense was the grip. Something in his expression frightened her. - -"I do not mean you alone," she stammered, "but all of you. You are -jealous of us and you hate us. When you marry one of us, you do your -best to isolate her, to cut her off from her country and her people." - -"Is that not inevitable--right, even? But have I done that?" - -"No." - -Her conscience smote her as she looked up at him standing erect and -stern before her. She realised that another and graver issue had arisen -between them--an issue that was perhaps the source of all. She realised -that there had been something more than fear and a consequent -irritability in her attitude towards him. She had not seen her husband -in him, but only the representative of thousands who might soon be -marching against her country, and for one short minute at least she had -hated him. The realisation horrified her, drove her to a reckless -attempt at atonement. - -"Oh, forgive me, Wolff!" she cried eagerly. "I am simply unbearable -this afternoon. Father has written a worrying letter--about mother--and -that made me nervous and bad-tempered. Forgive me, dear. Don't be -angry at the silly things I have said." - -He yielded to the hands that drew him towards her, and kissed her, but -rather gravely, as though he more than half-doubted her explanation. - -"I am not angry, Nora. I only ask you to try and understand. God -knows"--she thought his voice changed, and grew less certain--"I would -never willingly come between you and any one you cared for, but I have -my honour to protect, and your honour is mine." - -"Wolff, what do you mean? Have I done anything dishonourable?" - -"No, dear. You cannot see things from my standpoint. You have been -brought up with other ideas. I have tried to explain before. We have a -double task. For our names' sake and for the sake of the uniform we -wear we must keep ourselves from the very breath of evil. And that -applies to every one connected with us." - -Nora drew her hands away. - -"I think I understand," she said. "For those two fetishes everything -must be sacrificed. I will do my best to satisfy them and you." - -"Thank you, Nora. I trust you implicitly." - -She went to the door, hesitated, and then stole out. But in that -moment's hesitation she had caught a glimpse of him standing at his -table in an attitude of dejection, and had heard a smothered sigh of -pain. - -"I am miserable," she thought, "and I have made him miserable. How will -it all end?" - -In trembling haste she dressed and hurried out. She had a one -all-dominating desire to seek help and comfort from some one who could -understand her, some one, too, who held Wolff's happiness higher than -her own and could be just to both. She needed a woman's comfort, and -she turned now to Frau von Arnim. Hitherto she had shrunk from the -inevitable meeting, now she sought it with the desperation of one who -knows no other course. She had indeed no one else to turn to. Before -Wolff she was tongue-tied. It was not only that silence was forced upon -her by a mingled pride and fear; the subtle understanding between them -had been rudely broken, and though their love for each other remained, -they had inwardly become something worse than strangers. For there is -no reserve so complete, so insurmountable, so surcharged with bitterness -as that which follows on a great passion. And then, too, what had she -to say to him? "I love you; but I have brought ruin upon your life. I -love you; but I am not happy with you." Had she even the right to say -that to him? Was it not, in any case, useless? Yet she knew she must -unburden her heart, if for no other reason than that the power to keep -silence was passing out of her hands. - -Thus it was natural that her footsteps turned for the first time towards -the little flat near the Brandenburger Tor. And on her road she met -Arnold himself. It was as though fate pursued her. - -"I was on my way to you," he said quietly, as he turned to walk by her -side. "I have something to tell you, and should have been sorry if we -had missed. It is about Miles." - -Nora glanced at him, and her eyes were full of a miserable gratitude. - -"How good you are to me!" she said. "I have not deserved it; you are my -only friend here." - -"Surely not," he answered. "What I can do is little enough. I have -found out the full extent of Miles's liabilities and have endeavoured to -persuade his creditors to wait. Unfortunately, they are obdurate on the -subject. They believe there is going to be war and that your brother -might leave Berlin suddenly. It seems to me that you should do one of -two things, Nora--either allow me to--to advance the money, or to tell -your husband the truth." - -She put up her hand with a movement of involuntary protest. - -"You know that the first is out of the question," she said proudly. -"And the second! Oh, Robert, I am afraid! It may ruin Wolff, and -then--they hate each other so. Wolff will send him away, and----" - -She broke off with a quick breath that was like a sob. - -"Isn't that the best thing that can happen?" Arnold answered. "Your -brother will never do any good here. He is better in England." - -"Yes, I know, I know. He has been weak and foolish. He is so--young." -Her voice was full of a piteous apology. "And perhaps it was my -fault--a little, at least. But I can't let him go, Robert. Whatever -else he is, he is my brother, and I am so alone." - -"Alone!" He looked at her aghast. "What do you mean?" - -"Don't you understand? It's so easy--so simple. I am a stranger here. -I am hated and distrusted. I suppose it was inevitable. In a few days -you will have gone, and if Miles goes too I shall have no one left----" - -"Nora!" he interrupted sternly. "There is your husband." - -"Wolff--yes, there is Wolff. Robert, they say there will be war. Is it -true?" - -He frowned with perplexity. For the moment he could not follow her -thought, and her question seemed to him erratic and purposeless. - -"It is possible. For my part, I hope it may come to that. Things have -been drifting to a crisis for a long time, and we must assert ourselves -once and for all. These beggars are beginning to suspect us of fear or -incompetence, and the sooner they are disillusioned the better." -Suddenly he caught a glimpse of her face, and stopped short. "Nora, -what is the matter?" - -"You forget," she said hoarsely. "I am not English any more." - -They walked on in silence, Arnold too startled and overwhelmed by the -conflict which she in one short sentence had revealed to him to speak or -think. - -"I was a thoughtless fool," he said at last. "For the moment I could -not imagine you as anything but my own countrywoman. Now I see; and it -is terrible for you--terrible. Even marriage cannot blot out one's -nationality." - -They had reached the door of the Arnims' flat, and she stopped and faced -him with wide-open, desperate eyes. - -"Nothing can!" she said. "And I know this--if there is war it will -break my heart, or drive me mad. I don't know which." - -Never before had she felt so drawn to him by all the ties of friendship -and blood, and yet she went up the steps without a word of farewell. -Arnold understood, and looked after her with a tender pity. He believed -that he had crushed all passion out of his heart, but that a love -remained which was infinitely greater, purified, as it seemed, from the -dross of selfish desire. He felt as he stood there that he would -willingly have given his life to save her from the threatening struggle, -and yet--such is the irony of things--in that same moment he -unconsciously brought her even deeper into the complicated tangle of her -life. The door had opened, and a short, plump little woman stood on the -threshold. She saw Nora, bowed, hesitated as though she would have -spoken; then her eyes fell on Arnold, and she passed on down the steps -with a cold, blank stare. - -"Who was she, I wonder?" Arnold thought indifferently. "What was the -matter?" - -Poor Nora could have answered both questions, and a numbing sense of -hopelessness crept over her as she toiled slowly up the stone stairs. -She felt already, without knowing why, that she had come in vain. They -were all her enemies, they all hated her. Why should Frau von Arnim be -different from the rest? Had not Arnold said, "She is a cold, hard woman -who will make trouble"? And yet, as she entered the narrow sitting-room -of her aunt's new home, something of her first hope revived. Frau von -Arnim was alone. She stood at the writing-table by the window, -apparently looking out into the street, and Nora saw the resolute, -aristocratic profile and graceful figure with a heart-throb of relief. -This woman was like her mother in all that was noble and -generous--perhaps she would be to her as a mother, perhaps she would -really understand and help her in her great need. - -"Aunt Magda!" she said. Her voice sounded breathless. A curious -excitement possessed her, so that she could say no more. She felt that -everything, her whole future life, depended on Frau von Arnim's first -words. - -The elder woman turned slowly. Had the faintest warmth of kindness -brightened her face, Nora might have flung herself into her arms and -poured out the whole story of her errors, her sorrows, her aching sense -of divided duty; but Frau von Arnim's face was cold, impassive, and the -hand she extended indifferent, her kiss icy. Nora drew back. In an -instant everything in her had frozen. A dawning bitterness and -resentment shut the gates of her heart against all confidence, all -affection. She felt that here was an enemy from whom she need expect -neither help nor mercy, and she seated herself with the hard, set face -of a criminal who knows that he is before an unjust judge. - -"I am glad that you have come at last, Nora," Frau von Arnim said -calmly. "We had been hoping to see you some days ago. No doubt you -have a great many friends who claim your attention." - -Her quiet words were free from all sarcasm, and, indeed, every trace of -feeling, but they stung Nora by their very indifference. - -"I came as soon as I thought you would be glad to see me," she said. "I -did not think you would want visitors whilst you were settling down." - -Frau von Arnim studied the sullen girlish face opposite. She might well -have retorted that a helping hand is always welcome, even in "settling -down," and that Frau von Seleneck, despite her own household cares, had -been daily to lend her advice and assistance. But it was not Magda von -Arnim's custom to reproach for neglect, and, moreover, she had another -and more important matter on her mind. - -"Hildegarde is lying down at present," she said in answer to Nora's -question, "and perhaps it is just as well. I have something I wish to -speak to you about whilst we are alone." - -Nora stiffened in her chair. She felt already trapped and browbeaten, -and her eyes were bright with defiance as they met Frau von Arnim's -steady gaze. - -"I would have written to you," Frau von Arnim went on, in the same -judicial tone, "but I knew that my letters would find their way into -Wolff's hands, and at that time I felt sure that you have some -sufficient explanation to offer us for the unbelievable story which your -friend, Captain Arnold, was clumsy enough to relate to us. I felt, as I -say, sure that there was some painful mistake, and one which it would be -unkind and useless to tell Wolff. Besides, for your sake I thought it -better to wait. If there was some mistake, as I firmly believed, a -letter could only have troubled and puzzled you. So I waited, meaning -to ask you privately for an explanation. Since I have been in Berlin I -have heard enough to see that my caution was altogether unnecessary." - -"Aunt Magda!" - -Frau von Arnim lifted a quiet hand, as though to command silence. - -"It is obvious that Captain Arnold must have told you of our interview," -she said, "and obvious that you have remained his friend. I hear that -he is constantly at your house. I do not know what Wolff thinks and -feels on the matter. He loves you, and is himself too honourable not to -have a blind confidence in you. That, however, is not sufficient. _I_ -must know whether that confidence is justified." - -Nora wondered afterwards that she did not get up then and go. Every -inflection of the calm voice was a fresh insult, and yet she felt -spell-bound, incapable of either attack or self-defence. In her mind -she kept on repeating, "YOU are cruel, wicked, and unjust!" but the -words were never spoken; they were stifled by the very violence of her -indignation and growing hatred. - -Frau von Arnim saw the hatred and interpreted it in the light of her own -bitterness. For, little as Nora knew it, her "enemy" was suffering -intensely. There were in Frau von Arnim's heart two things worth more -to her than love or happiness: they were the fetishes against which Nora -had railed in scorn and anger--"_Standesehre_" and pride of name. Since -her arrival in Berlin a scandal had drifted to Frau von Arnim's ears -which had been like a vital blow at the two great principles on which -her life was built; and had Wolff been the cause instead of Nora she -would not have been less severe, less indignant. As it was, she saw in -his wife a careless, perhaps unworthy bearer of her name and her scorn -and disappointment smothered what had been, and might still have been, a -deep affection. - -"I must ask you to answer one question," she continued. "Was it true -what Captain Arnold told me? Were you his promised wife at the time when -you married Wolff?" - -Nora's lips parted as though in an impulsive answer, then closed again, -and for a moment she sat silent, with her eyes fixed full on her -interlocutor's face. The time had surely come to give her explanation, -to appeal to the other's pity and sympathy for what had, after all, been -no more than an act of youthful folly--even generous in its impulse. -But she could say nothing. The stern, cold face froze her in a prison of -ice, and she could do no more than answer in a reckless affirmative. - -"Yes; it was perfectly true." - -"Do you think your conduct was honourable, or fair to Wolff? Have you -no explanation to offer?" - -Nora rose to her feet. She was white with anger and indignation. - -"None that I need offer you, Frau von Arnim," she said. Unconsciously -she had reverted to the old formal title, and in her blind sense of -injury and injustice she did not see the spasm of pain which passed over -the elder woman's face. - -Frau von Arnim also rose. She appeared calm almost to the point of -indifference, but in reality her whole strength was concentrated on the -suppression of her own emotion, and for once in a way the -generous-minded, broad-hearted woman saw and understood nothing but -herself. - -"You force me to speak openly, Nora," she said. "I must point out to you -that you have done something which in our eyes is nearly unpardonable. -An engagement is almost as binding as a marriage and until it is -dissolved no honourable woman or man has the right to enter into another -alliance. But that is what you did; and whether you have an explanation -to offer or not, makes, after all, no difference. What is done cannot -be undone. But you are now no longer the Miss Ingestre who was free to -act as she chose in such matters. You are my nephew's wife, and you -bear our name and the responsibility which it implies. Whatsoever you do -reflects itself for good or evil upon him and upon us all. Therefore we -have the right to control your conduct and to make this demand--that you -keep our name from scandal. That you have not done. From every quarter -I hear the same warnings, the same insinuations. It is not only Captain -Arnold who has caused them--I alone know the worst--it is your -friendship with people outside our circle, your neglect of those to whom -you are at least bound by duty, if not by affection. Before it goes too -far to be mended, I ask--I demand that your intimacy with these people -and with this Captain Arnold should cease." - -"Captain Arnold is my friend," Nora exclaimed. "The only friend I have." - -Had Frau von Arnim been less self-absorbed that one sentence might have -opened her eyes and shown her a pitiful figure enough, overburdened with -trouble and loneliness. But Nora's head was thrown back, and the -defiant attitude blinded the other to the tears that were gathered in -the stormy, miserable eyes. - -"You appear only to consider yourself and your own pleasure," Frau von -Arnim answered, "and that is not the point. The point is, what is good -for Wolff and Wolff's reputation? It is not good for either that your -name should be coupled with another man's, or that his brother-in-law -should, in a few weeks, make himself renowned as a drunkard and a -reprobate." - -Nora took an impulsive step forward. She had come to make her -confession, her explanation, to throw the burden of her brother's -delinquencies upon these stronger shoulders. Now everything was -forgotten save resentment, the passionate need to defend herself and her -blood from insult. - -"That is not true!" she stammered. "Nothing that you have said is true. -I have not been dishonourable, and Miles----" She broke off because her -conscience accused her, and a smile of bitterness passed over Frau von -Arnim's pale features. - -"Then all I can say is that English people must have an extraordinary -sense of honour," she said. - -Perhaps she regretted her own hasty words, but it was too late to recall -them. A blank silence followed. Both felt that the straining bond -between them had snapped and that they stood opposite each other like -two people separated by an untraversable river. - -Nora went to the door and from thence looked back at the proud figure of -her adversary. - -"You have no right to speak to me as you have done," she said in a voice -that she strove in vain to steady. "What I do concerns no one but Wolff -and myself, and I need not and shall not alter my life because of what -you have said. You can do what you like--tell Wolff everything: I am -not afraid. As to what you said about us--the English--it only proves -what I already knew--you hate us because you envy us!" - -And with this explosion of youthful jingoism she closed the door upon -her last hope of help and comfort. But outside in the narrow, dusky hall -she broke down. A strange faintness came over her, which numbed her -limbs and senses and drew a veil before her eyes. A cry rose to her -lips, and had that cry been uttered it might have changed the whole -course of her life, sweeping down the barrier between her and the -stern-faced woman by its very weakness, its very pitifulness. But she -crushed it back and, calling upon the last reserves of her strength, -went her way, too proud to plead for pity where she had already found -judgment. - - - - - *CHAPTER XII* - - *WAR-CLOUDS* - - -Nora had not seen Arnim the whole morning. He sat in his study with the -door locked, and the orderly had injunctions to allow no one to disturb -him. Nevertheless, towards midday a staff-officer was shown through the -drawing-room into Wolff's sanctum, and for an hour the two men were -together, nothing being heard of them save the regular rise and fall of -their voices. - -"What has the fellow come about?" Miles demanded in a tone of injury. -"One would think they were concocting a regular Guy Fawkes plot, with -their shut doors and their whisperings--or making plans for the -Invasion." - -Nora looked at her brother. He was lying full-length on the sofa, -reading the latest paper from home; and as he had done very little else -since he had lounged in to breakfast an hour late, complaining of a -severe headache, Nora strongly suspected him of having varied the -"Foreign Intelligence" with supplementary instalments of his night's -repose. - -"Is there any news?" she asked. She put the question with an effort, -dreading the answer, and Miles grunted angrily. - -"Things don't move much one way or the other," he said. "They stay as -bad as they can be. The beggars won't go for us--they're funking it at -the last moment, worse luck!" - -"Why 'worse luck'?" - -"Because it is time the cheek was thrashed out of them." He turned a -little on one side, so as to be able to see his sister's face. "What -are you going to do when the trouble begins?" he asked. - -Nora's head sank over her work. - -"I shall stay by my husband." - -"Poor old girl!" - -Nora made no answer. She was listening to the voices next door, and -wondering what they were saying. Was Miles's suggestion possible? Was -it true that her husband sat before his table hour after hour absorbed -in plans for her country's ruin, his whole strength of mind and body set -on the supreme task? And if so, what part did she play--she, his wife? - -"And you, Miles?" she asked suddenly. "What will you do?" - -He laughed uneasily. - -"If my Jew friend gives me the chance, I shall make a bolt for it," he -said. "It's a nuisance having all these confounded debts. I wish you -weren't so stand-offish with the Bauers, Nora. If you had only sugared -them a little----" - -"Don't!" she interrupted almost sternly. "Your debts must be paid -somehow, but not that way. Wolff must be told." - -"Wolff!" He stared at her open-mouthed. - -"There is nothing else to be done, unless father can help you." - -"The pater won't move a finger," Miles assured her. "And if you tell -your righteous husband, there will be the devil of a row." - -He sat up rather abruptly as he spoke, for at that moment the study door -opened, and Wolff and his visitor entered. Both men looked absorbed and -tired, and Wolff's usually keen eyes had an absent expression in them, -as though he were mentally engaged in some affair of importance and -difficulty. His companion, however, a tall, ungainly major whom Nora had -always liked because of his openly-expressed admiration for her -husband's abilities, immediately assumed his manner of the gay and -empty-headed cavalier. - -"You must forgive my taking so much of your husband's time, _gnädige -Frau_," he said as he kissed Nora's hand. "I had some rather stiff -calculations, and I simply couldn't do them alone--you have no doubt -heard what a dull person I am--so I came round to Arnim for help. There -is nothing like having a clever junior, is there?" - -He turned to Wolff with his easy, untroubled smile, but Wolff's face -remained serious. He was buckling on his sword in preparation for -departure, and appeared not to have heard his major's facetious -self-depreciation. - -"By the way, I have a small invitation for you, _gnädige Frau_," the -elder officer went on. "A sort of peace-offering, as it were. My wife -is driving out to see the Kaiser's review this afternoon, and asks if -you would care to accompany her. If you have not seen it before it will -be well worth your while to go." - -"Thank you. I should be delighted!" Nora said eagerly. She knew Major -von Hollander's wife as a harmless if rather colourless woman, who had -as yet shown no signs of joining in the general boycott to which Nora -was being subjected. Besides, every instinct in her clamoured for -freedom from her thoughts and from the stuffy, oppressive atmosphere of -this home, which seemed now less a home than a prison. She accepted the -offer, therefore, with a real enthusiasm, which was heightened as she -saw that her ready answer had pleased Wolff. He came back after the -major had taken his leave, and kissed her. - -"Thank you, Nora," he said. "It is good of you to go." - -"Why good of me? I want to go." - -"Then I am grateful to you for wanting." - -Nora did not understand him, nor did she see that he was embarrassed by -her question. She felt the tenderness in his voice and touch, and it -awoke in her a sudden response. - -"Don't overwork, dear," she said. "Couldn't you come with us?" - -"I can't, little woman. When the Emperor calls----" - -He finished his sentence with a mock-heroic gesture, and hurried towards -the door. The major had coughed discreetly outside in the narrow hall, -and in an instant duty had resumed its predominating influence in his -life. - -Nora took an involuntary step after him and laid her hand upon his arm. -She wanted to hold him back and tell him--she hardly knew what; perhaps -the one simple fact that she loved him in spite of everything, perhaps -that she was sorry her love was so frail, so wavering; perhaps even, if -they had been alone, she would have thrown down the whole burden of her -heart and conscience with the appeal, "Forgive me! Help me!" - -It was one of those fleeting moments when, in the very midst of discord, -of embittered strife, a sudden tenderness, shortlived but full of -possibilities, breaks through the walls of antagonism. Something in -Wolff's voice or look had touched Nora. She remembered the first days -of their marriage, and with hasty, groping fingers sought to link past -with present. - -"Wolff!" she said. - -Very gently, but firmly, he loosened her clasp. He heard the major move -impatiently; he knew nothing of the bridge which she had lowered for him -to cross and take her in his old possession. And even if he had known -he could not have acted otherwise. - -"I must go, dear," he said. "I am on important duty." - -"More important than I am?" - -"Yes, even more important than you are!" - -She drew back of her own accord and let him go. The moment's -self-surrender was gone, and because it had been in vain the gulf -between them had widened. - -Miles laughed as he saw her face. - -"It must be amusing to be married to a German," he said. "I suppose you -are never an important duty, are you?" - -Nora went out of the room without answering. She almost hated Miles for -his biting, if disguised criticism; she hated herself because it awoke -in her an echo, a bitter resentment against her husband. She was the -secondary consideration: he proved it every day of his life. His -so-called duty was no more in her eyes than an insatiable ambition which -thrust every other consideration on one side. He had never yet given up -a day's work to her pleasure; he sat hour after hour locked in his room, -and toiled for his advancement, indifferent to her loneliness, to the -bitter struggle which was being fought out in the secrecy of her heart; -and when she came to him, as in that vital moment, with outstretched -hands, pleading for his help and pity, he had thrust her aside because, -forsooth, he had "important duty"! He was like those other men she had -met who dressed their wives like beggars rather than go with a shabby -uniform or deny themselves a good horse. He was selfish, -self-important, and she was no more in his life than a toy--or at most -an unpaid housekeeper, as her father had prophesied. How right they had -been, those home-people! How true their warnings had proved themselves! -Her love had intoxicated her, blinded her to the insurmountable -barriers. She saw now, more clearly than ever before, in her dawning -recognition, that she stood alone, without a friend, in the innermost -depths of her nature a stranger even to her husband. And he had not -helped her. He had left her to her solitude, he had cut her off from -the one companion who might have made her life bearable. He was as -narrow, as bigoted as the rest of those who judged her by the poor -standard of their foreign prejudices and customs. The thought of that -last interview with Frau von Arnim was fuel to the kindling fire in -Nora's brain. She had been treated like a criminal--or, worse, like a -silly child who has been caught stealing. She had been ordered to -obedience like a will-less inferior who has been admitted into the -circle of higher beings and must submit to the extreme rigour of their -laws. Whereas, it was she who had condescended, who had sacrificed her -more glorious birthright to associate with them! All that was obstinate -and proud in Nora's nature rose and overwhelmed the dread of the -threatening consequences. Let Frau von Arnim tell her husband the truth -as she knew it! Let Wolff despise her, cast her and hers from him as, -according to his rigid code of honour, he was bound to do! It would but -hasten the catastrophe which in Nora's eyes was becoming inevitable. -Her love for her husband sank submerged beneath the accumulation of a -bitterness and an antagonism which was not so much personal as national. - -Thus it was in no peaceful or conciliatory mood that she took her place -in Frau von Hollander's carriage that afternoon. Her manners were -off-hand, her remarks tinged with an intentional arrogance which led her -meek companion to the conclusion that public opinion was right, after -all, and _die kleine Engländerin_ an intolerable person. Nevertheless, -she did her best to act the part of amiable hostess, and attempted to -draw Nora's attention to the points of interest as they passed. - -"All the regiments in Berlin will be there," she said with a pardonable -pride. "That is not a thing one can see every day, you know. It will -be a grand sight. They are the finest regiments in the world." - -"In Germany, perhaps," Nora observed. - -Her companion made no answer, and Nora tried to believe that she was -satisfied with her own sharpness. How these foreigners boasted! It was -a good thing to point out to them that not every one was so impressed -with their marvels. - -Yet, as they reached the Tempelhofer Felde Nora had hard work to -restrain her naturally lively interest and curiosity from breaking -bounds. The regiments had already taken up their positions. Solid -square after square, they spread out as far as the eye could reach, a -motionless bulwark of strength, bayonets and swords glittering like a -sea of silver in the bright December sunshine. Wolff had taught Nora to -recognise them, and she took a curious pride in her knowledge, though -she said nothing, and her eyes expressed a cold, critical indifference. - -"How fine the _Kürassiers_ look!" Frau von Hollander said -enthusiastically. "I have a cousin among them. They are all six-foot -men--a regiment of giants." - -"Rather like our Horse Guards," Nora returned; "but your horses are not -so fine." - -Frau von Hollander pursed her lips, and the bands striking up with the -National Anthem put an end to the dangerous colloquy. The colour rushed -to Nora's cheeks as she listened to the massed sound. She thought for -an instant it was "God Save the King" that they were playing, and the -tears of a deeply stirred patriotism rushed to her eyes. It was only a -moment's illusion. Then the dazzling simultaneous flash of arms, a -loud, abrupt cheer from the crowd about them reminded her of the truth. -It was not the King who rode past amidst his resplendent Staff--it was -the German Emperor--HER Emperor! She caught a glimpse of the resolute, -bronze face, and because she was at the bottom neither narrow nor -prejudiced, she paid her tribute of admiration ungrudgingly, for the -moment forgetful of all the issues that were at stake. With eager eyes -she followed the cortège as it passed rapidly before the motionless -regiments. The resounding cheer which answered the Emperor's greeting -thrilled her, and when he at last took his stand at the head of his -Staff, and the regiments swung past, moving as one man amidst the crash -of martial music, she stood up that she might lose no detail in the -brilliant scene, her hands clenched, her pulses throbbing with a strange -kind of enthusiasm. It was her first Kaiser parade; it overwhelmed her, -not alone by its brilliancy but by the solidity, the strength and -discipline it revealed; and had Frau von Hollander at that moment -ventured a word of admiration she would have received no depreciatory -comparison as answer. But poor Frau von Hollander had had enough for -one day. She sat quiet and wordless, and silently lamented her own -good-nature in taking such a disagreeable little foreigner with her in -her expensive carriage. - -The charge past had just begun when Nora heard her companion speak for -the first time. It was not to her, however, but to a young dragoon -officer who had taken up his stand at the carriage door, and Nora was -much too absorbed to take any further notice of him. Their -conversation, however, reached her ears, and she found herself listening -mechanically even whilst her real attention was fixed on the great -military pageant before her. - -"The criticism should be good to-day," the officer was saying. -"_Tadellos, nicht wahr_? Even the Emperor should be satisfied. I don't -think we have much to fear from the future." - -"From the future?" Frau von Hollander interrogated. She was not a clever -woman, and her topics of the day--like her clothes--belonged usually to -a remote period. - -"I mean when the row comes," the dragoon explained. "We have all sealed -orders, you know. No hurry, no bustle, no excitement; but when the -Emperor presses the button--wiff!--then we shall be _en route_ for -England." - -The brilliant picture before Nora's eyes faded. She was listening now -with tight-set lips and beating heart. - -"Ach, you mean the war!" her hostess said. "My husband is so reticent -on the subject. I never hear anything at all. You think it will really -come to that?" - -"No doubt whatever--unless the English are ready to eat humble-pie. -They are afraid of us because they see we are getting stronger, but they -are equally afraid to strike. Their ancestors would have struck years -ago, and now it is too late. Their navy is big on paper, but absolutely -untried. As to their army----" He laughed good-naturedly. "That won't -give us much trouble." - -"You mean that it is not big enough?" - -Frau von Hollander was pretending to forget Nora's existence, but there -was a spite in her tone which was not altogether unpardonable. She was -grateful for this opportunity to pay back the slights of the last hour. - -"It is not merely too small," the officer returned judiciously; "it is -no good against men like ours. Their so-called regulars are picked up -out of the gutters, and the rest are untrained clerks and schoolboys who -scarcely know how to shoot----" - -Nora turned. - -"That is a lie!" she said deliberately. - -The conversation had been carried on loud enough to reach the adjoining -carriages, and Nora's clear voice caused more than one occupant to turn -in her direction. They saw a pretty young woman standing erect, -white-lipped, with shining eyes, confronting a scarlet-faced officer, -who for a moment appeared too taken aback to answer. - -"I beg your pardon, _gnädige Frau_," he stammered at last, with his hand -lifted mechanically to his helmet. "I--I did not quite understand----" - -"I said that it was a lie," Nora repeated. "Everything you said was a -lie. We are not afraid of you, and our soldiers are the best and -bravest soldiers in the world!" - -The dragoon looked helplessly at Frau von Hollander, and the latter -decided on a belated rescue. - -"It is most unfortunate," she said with pious regret. "I really quite -forgot for the moment. Frau von Arnim was English before her -marriage----" - -"----and is English still!" Nora interrupted proudly. "Please let me -pass. I am going home." - -"Then tell the coachman. I cannot let you walk." - -Frau von Hollander was now thoroughly alarmed. She felt that the matter -had gone too far, and was ready to atone in any possible way. But Nora -thrust the detaining hand aside. - -"I would rather walk," she said between her clenched teeth. She sprang -from the carriage, ignoring the dragoon's offer of assistance. That -unfortunate young officer followed her, his face crimson with very real -distress. - -"Please forgive me, _gnädige Frau_," he stammered. "How was I to know? -Your name was German, and I had no idea--and a fellow talks such rot -sometimes. Please forgive me!" - -He was so young, so sincere and boyish in his regret that her heart -under any other circumstances might have softened. But the insult had -fallen on an open wound, and the pain was intolerable. - -"You said what you thought, and you lied," she said. "That is all that -matters." - -He drew aside with a stiff salute. - -"I have apologised. I can do no more," he said, and turned on his heel. - -Thus poor Nora toiled her way over the hard, frozen roads alone, her -thin-shod feet aching, her heart beating to suffocation with anger and -misery. But she was unconscious of pain or weariness. Her English -pride, the high love of her land had risen like a tide and swept her -forward--to what end she neither knew nor cared. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIII* - - *ULTIMATUM* - - -"I do not know if I have done right in telling you," Frau von Arnim -said. "I had not meant to do so, but circumstances--and Nora--have -forced me. Had she offered me any reasonable explanation, or promised -to put an end to her intimacy with this Captain Arnold, I should not -have thought it necessary to speak to you on the matter. She chose to -ignore my appeal and my advice, and I felt that there was no other -course left open to me but to warn you and to give you my reasons for -doing so." - -"I am sure you meant it all for the best," Wolff answered. "All the -same--I would rather have waited until Nora had told me herself." - -He was standing by the window, and did not see the sceptical lifting of -his aunt's eyebrows. She frowned immediately afterwards, as though -annoyed at her own display of feeling. - -"It would have been better," she admitted calmly; "but Nora is in a -state of mind which does not encourage hope. I cannot help saying so, -Wolff; she has changed very much since the Karlsburg days." - -"I know," he answered. "She has changed just in this last month or two. -Poor little wife!" - -"Other people have noticed it," his aunt went on. "The Selenecks, the -Freibergs, all our best friends have the same complaint to make. She is -off-hand, sometimes deliberately rude; and that sort of thing does not -help to stop the scandal that is growing round her. Elsa Seleneck does -not usually klatsch, but she is merciless where Nora is concerned, and -it is all the more unpleasant because they were once good friends. I can -only suppose that Nora has come under the influence of her brother and -this man--this----" - -"Nora's friendship with Captain Arnold is absolutely innocent," Wolff -said firmly. "No doubt they have that sort of thing in England." - -"Perhaps so, but we do not. People see this Englishman at your house -day after day. There seems no reason for his constant visits. They -call each other by their Christian names and go out together. Who can -blame any one for putting the worst interpretation on Nora's conduct? -And they are beginning to blame you, Wolff." - -"Me?" - -"They say that you ought not to tolerate her brother's presence in your -house--that you ought to send this Arnold to the right-about." - -He winced. - -"I can't. She would never forgive me." - -"Wolff! Has she grown more important than everything else in life?" - -"No, no," he answered almost impatiently. "But she is young and -careless--not bad. She has done nothing to deserve such treatment at my -hands." - -Frau von Arnim rose and came to his side. - -"I know that she is not bad," she said. "At the bottom of her heart -Nora may be honest, but she is headstrong and foolish, and folly can -lead to the same catastrophes as deliberate wickedness. Unless you hold -her back with a strong hand, Wolff, she will alienate you from all your -friends, she will bring an unpleasant scandal upon our name and perhaps -ruin your career. These last two things are more precious to me than -anything on earth, and that is why I have spoken to you and put the -matter in its most serious light. You must show her how wrong she is." - -Wolff turned and looked his companion steadily in the eyes. He had just -returned from a hard afternoon's work, and it was perhaps the recent -fatigue which had drawn the colour from his face and left him with deep -lines about the mouth and across the white forehead. - -"Is she wrong?" he said. "Do you know, I am not sure, Aunt Magda. I am -beginning to think the mistake is all mine. I loved her so, and she is -so impetuous and warm-hearted. I carried her off her feet before she -had time to think, to realise what she was giving up. And now--well, I -suppose she is beginning to realise; the glamour has all gone, and her -love"--he steadied his voice with an effort--"hasn't proved to be what -she thought it was. It isn't strong enough to bring the sacrifices, and -she is hungry for her own country and her own people. One can't blame -her." - -Frau von Arnim sighed. - -"And when the war comes--what then?" she asked. - -"God knows!" - -He dropped wearily into a chair and covered his face with his hands. - -"We can but hope for the best," he said. "I must wait and be patient." - -"You will say nothing to her, Wolff?" - -"No. I do not understand what you have told me. I cannot believe that -she should have deceived me and kept the secret so long, nor can I -understand Captain Arnold's conduct. Nevertheless, I trust Nora, and -one day perhaps she will tell me everything." - -His aunt shook her head. That "one day" seemed too far off, too -impossible, and in the meantime she saw the man with the bowed head, and -understood something of what he was suffering. - -"Do what you think best," she said, and, obeying a sudden impulse of -tenderness, she laid her hand upon his shoulder. "Only let no harm come -to the name, Wolff. It is all I ask, for your sake and for mine." - -He took the hand and lifted it to his lips. - -"You have the right to ask everything," he said. "Your sacrifice--yours -and Hildegarde's--made it possible for me to make Nora my wife. I owe -you----" - -"Not your happiness, _armer Kerl_!" she interrupted sadly. "That was -what we wanted to give you, but we have not succeeded. And you must not -call it a sacrifice. We never do. You are just my only son, for whom -it is a joy to smooth the way as much as it lies in our power." - -She knelt down beside him. All her proud severity had melted. Had she -shown a quarter of this tenderness to Nora, they would never have parted -as they had done. But then Nora had sinned against her rigid code of -honour; Nora deserved punishment--not tenderness. - -"There is another thing I want to say, Wolff," she went on gently. -"Seleneck confessed to me that you had sold Bruno. I cannot understand -why you should have done so--unless you were short of money." - -He turned away his head, avoiding her steady, questioning eyes. - -"Won't you confide in me, Wolff--like you did in the old days?" - -"Of course I will!" He tried to laugh. "Yes, it was money, Aunt Magda. -You see, I knew we were going to be invited to the Hulsons' to-morrow; -and Nora needed a new dress--and there were other expenses---- - -"Miles Ingestre, for instance?" she suggested bitterly. - -"It was another mouth to feed," he admitted. "Nora's father doesn't -understand that we are not rich. He hears that we invite and are -invited, and so he thinks--naturally enough--that we can afford to keep -Miles for a few months. And Nora does not quite understand either; so I -sold Bruno to smooth things over." - -He did not tell her what she none the less guessed--that many of Wolff's -scanty gold pieces had found their way into his guest's pockets by means -of the simple formula, "I'll pay you back as soon as the pater's cheque -arrives." Which event had, so far, never taken place. - -Frau von Arnim rose and, going to her writing-table, drew out a thick -envelope, which she put in his hands. - -"It is our gift to you," she said. "I have been keeping it for--for any -time when you might want a little extra, and I should like you to have -it now. Perhaps you could get Bruno back." - -"I can't!" he protested almost angrily. "Do you think I do not know -what you have already given up for my sake--your friends, your home, -your comfort?" - -"And do you not know that all has no value for me compared to the one -thing?" she answered, looking him steadily in the face. "I want you to -remember that, should any greater trouble come, any sacrifice would be -gladly borne rather than disgrace." - -"Disgrace!" he echoed, with a stern contraction of the brows. "Of what -are you afraid, Aunt Magda?" - -"I do not know. I only wanted your promise that you would always come -to me. As to this little gift"--her tone became lighter--"it would be -an insult to our relationship to refuse it. I cannot allow my nephew to -ride to war on an old charger. Surely you will allow me to throw this -sop to the family pride?" - -So she laughed away his objections, and he sat there with drawn, white -face and looked about him, recognising the remnants of the old home, -knowing for whose sake it was that they had come to rest in these -narrow, gloomy confines. And, after all, it had been in vain. The -sacrifices had brought no one happiness. He rose to go, and as he did so -the door opened, and Hildegarde stood on the threshold. For a moment he -hardly recognised her. She held herself upright as he had not seen her -do for nearly three years; her cheeks were bright with colour and her -eyes with the old light, so that it seemed as though the time of -suffering had been blotted out of her life and she was once more his -gay, untroubled playfellow. - -"Why, Hildegarde!" he cried delightedly. - -She came laughing towards him and gave him her hand with a cheery -frankness. Neither by look nor tone did she betray that his presence -had set her pulses galloping with the old pain and the old happiness. - -"Why, Wolff!" she repeated, mocking him. "Do you think I am a ghost?" - -"A phoenix, rather," he retorted gaily, for his joy was unfeigned. "I -never dared to hope such good things of you. What has brought about the -miracle?" - -She told him about the "cure" she had been through, still in the same -easy, unconcerned voice, and only her mother noticed the restless -movement of the long, thin hands. Perhaps it was that one sign of -emotion which prevented her from urging Wolff to remain. Perhaps she -knew, too, that Wolff was stifling in the narrow room. - -"You must come back soon, Wolff," Hildegarde said, as he bade her -good-bye. "You have so much to tell us--about the war and our chances. -But I will let you go to-day. You look so tired." - -She did not ask that Nora should come too. She did not even mention -Nora's name. Wolff remembered that significant omission as he trudged -homewards, and he understood that Nora stood alone. She had lost touch -with his friends and with those nearest to him, and he too had drifted -out of her life. Such, then, was the end of a love and a union which -was to have been endless! A few months of untroubled happiness, and the -awakening! He felt no anger mingle itself with his grief, rather an -intense pity. Though he could not understand her conduct in the past, he -trusted her with the blindness of an unchanged devotion. He believed -that she would have some explanation. He was sure that once at least -her love had been sincere, that she deceived herself more than she had -ever deceived him. She had believed her love for him stronger than that -for home and people, than any other love. She had been mistaken--that -was all. An old love had returned into her life and with it the old -ties. The intoxication of the first passion was over, and she had gone -back to those to whom she belonged, and a sea of racial prejudice, -racial differences, and national feeling divided her from the man to -whom she had sworn, "Thy God shall be my God, thy people my people." He -had lost her. What then? What was to be the solution to the problem -that lay before them both? He knew of none, and perhaps at the bottom -of his heart there was still a glimmer of hope that he was mistaken and -her friendship for Arnold no more than friendship, her change towards -him no more than a passing shadow. He told himself that when worried -and overworked as he was, a man can too easily exaggerate the extent of -a misfortune. Who knew what change for the better the next few hours -might bring? - -Thus he reached his home with a lighter heart than he had expected. -Nora was not yet back from the parade. It surprised him, therefore, to -hear loud and apparently angry voices proceeding from his room. He -entered quickly, without waiting to lay sword or helmet aside, and found -Miles and another older man, whose appearance warranted the supposition -that his descent from the Mosaic family was unbroken. - -Wolff looked from one to the other, and perhaps his knowledge of both -classes of men warned him of what was to come. - -"Might I ask for an explanation?" he said quietly. - -Miles was clinging to the back of a chair and trembling from head to -foot, either with fear or rage or a mixture of both. His usually sallow -face was now grey and his lips twitched convulsively before he managed -to answer. - -"I'm beastly sorry, Wolff," he stammered. "It's the devil of a -nuisance, and I swear I never meant to bring you into the mess. -This--this man has come fussing about some money. I told him to wait, -but he seems to have got some idiotic ideas in his head----" - -"The Herr Baron vill not blame me that I am anxious for my moneys," the -Jew interrupted, speaking also in broken English and giving Wolff the -benefit of a servile bow. "Dis genelman have borrowed much from me, and -I am a poor man. I vould not have took the risk but dat he gave me your -name as guarantee. He said dat you vere his broder-in-law and dat it -vere all safe. Dat is von month ago, and since den I have heard no more -of my genelman, but many English leave Berlin just now, and I come to -see if vat he say be true." - -"It is perfectly true. Mr. Ingestre is my brother-in-law." - -"Den I am satisfied. De Herr Baron vill see to it as officer and -genelman." - -He took a step towards the door, but Wolff stopped him with a curt -gesture. Nor for a moment had he taken his eyes from Miles's colourless -and sickly countenance. - -"You say that Mr. Ingestre owes you money," he said. "Will you be so -kind as to show me the bill?" - -The Jew immediately produced a slip of greasy paper and handed it to -him. Wolff took it with the tip of his fingers, his eyes narrowing with -an irrepressible disgust. There was a moment's waiting silence. Miles's -eyes were riveted on the carpet, the Jew was taking an inventory of the -furniture, and neither saw Wolff's face. For that matter, save that the -lips beneath the short fair moustache had stiffened, there was no -noticeable change in his expression. - -"Twelve hundred marks!" he said at last, throwing the paper on his -table. "Have you that sum by you, Miles? It would be better to pay -this gentleman at once." - -Miles Ingestre started and glanced loweringly at his brother-in-law's -face. He suspected sarcasm, but Wolff's pitiless steel-grey eyes warned -him that the time for retort had not yet come. - -"Eh--no; I'm afraid I haven't," he stammered. "I am expecting a cheque -from home, and of course will pay up at once. To tell you the -truth----" - -His thin, hesitating voice died away into silence. Perhaps he felt that -Wolff had no desire to hear "the truth." He held his tongue, therefore, -and let events drift as they might. Wolff had taken Frau von Arnim's -envelope from his pocket. He opened it and counted twelve notes for a -hundred marks each on to the table. - -"Kindly give me your receipt," he said. - -The Jew obeyed willingly, scratching an untidy signature across the -bottom of the piece of paper which Wolff pushed towards him. With -greedy, careful fingers he counted the notes and stuffed them in his -pocket. - -"It is a great pleasure to deal vid so great genelman," he said as he -shuffled to the door. - -Wolff waited until he was gone, then he threw open the window as though -the atmosphere sickened him. When he turned again his expression was -still calm, only the narrowed eyes revealed something of what was -passing through his mind. - -Miles did not look at him. He was playing with the paper-weight on the -table, struggling to regain his dignity. It bit into his mean soul that -he should be indebted to "this foreigner." - -"It's awfully decent of you, Wolff," he broke out at last. "I'm really -awfully grateful, and of course as soon as my money comes----" - -Wolff cut him short with an abrupt and contemptuous gesture. - -"I ask for no promises," he said, "and make no claim on your gratitude. -What I have done was not done for your sake, but for Nora's and my own. -I do not wish the scandal of a disgraceful debt to be associated with my -name. No doubt you do not understand my point of view, and there is no -reason why I should explain it. There is one matter, however, on which -I have the right to demand an explanation. You have run through -something like £100 in the time that you have been here. Where has this -money gone?" - -Miles shrugged his shoulders. The movement suggested that as between -one man of the world and another the question was superfluous. - -"Oh, you know--the usual thing," he said. "Suppers, horses, and women. -The people I know all did it. It was pretty well impossible to keep out -of the swim." - -Wolff detached his sword and seated himself at the table; Miles remained -standing, and Wolff did not suggest that he should change his position. - -"That means probably that you have other debts," he said. "Is that so?" - -"£100 goes nowhere," Miles answered sullenly. "I didn't know they would -come down on me so soon." - -"You have a curious way of answering a question. Still, I fancy I -understand you. You will make a list of these other debts and lay them -before me. After that, you will return to England." He saw Miles's -start of anger, and went on deliberately: "You have associated with the -scum of Berlin, and therein I am perhaps to blame. I should have put an -end to it before you drifted thus far. But I was under the illusion -that at your age and as Nora's brother you would be capable of behaving -as a man of honour. Otherwise, I should never have allowed you in my -house." - -He opened a drawer and began sorting out some papers before him, with -the same deliberation, indifferent to the look of intense hatred which -passed over his companion's face. "You have proved that you cannot rise -to so necessary a standard," he went on, "and therefore a prolongation -of your stay under my roof has become impossible. Nora must know -nothing of this, and there must be no fuss or scandal. You will write -this evening to your father and request him to telegraph for you -immediately--the possibility of war will be sufficient excuse. Until -your departure you will behave as usual, with the exception that you do -not leave the house. You will, of course, send your apologies to -General von Hulson for to-morrow evening. I do not wish you to accompany -us. That is all I have to say. You will do well to make no -difficulties." - -Miles laughed angrily. - -"Do you think I'd make difficulties if I could help it?" he demanded. -"I'd give ten years of my life to get back to England." - -"There is no object in your making fate such a generous offer," was the -ironical reply. "Your debts here will be paid--somehow or other. The -road home is open to you." - -"I can't go without money." - -"Your passage will be paid for you." - -"I don't mean that--I mean--there are reasons which make it impossible -for me to return--just now----" - -Arnim swung round in his chair. - -"You mean that you have debts in England?" - -"Yes." - -"In other words, that you left England on that account?" - -Miles shrugged his shoulders. - -"There were a good many reasons," he said. - -There was a moment's silence. Arnim began to write with a studied calm. - -"Your debts here will be paid on condition that you leave within -forty-eight hours," he said. "I cannot do more for you. I only do that -for Nora and for the sake of my own name." - -Males leant forward over the table. He was not usually clever, but -hatred had made him clever enough to take the most cruel weapon that lay -within his reach. - -"You talk as though I were such a beastly cad," he said, "but you shut -your eyes to the other things that go on in the house. You are -particular enough about your precious honour and name where I am -concerned; but you let Arnold come into the house and make love to your -wife without turning a hair." - -"Miles, take care what you are saying!" - -"I don't mind telling the truth. I have seen them----" - -Wolff held up his hand, and there was something in the movement which -checked the flood of malice and treachery and sent Miles back a step as -though he had been struck. - -"You can go," Wolff said quietly. - -Again Miles wavered, torn between rage and cowardice. He hated this -iron-willed martinet with his strait-laced principles and intolerable -arrogance, but his fear was equal to his hatred, and after a moment he -turned and slunk from the room. - -Arnim went on writing mechanically. His brain--the steeled, highly -trained brain--followed the intricate calculations before him with -unchanged precision, but the man himself fought with the poison in his -blood, and in the end conquered. As a strong swimmer he rose triumphant -above the waves of doubt, suspicion, and calumny which had threatened -him and held high above reach the shield of his wife's honour. It was -all that was left him--his trust in her, his belief in her integrity. -He knew that a crisis was at hand. With Miles's departure would come the -moment in which Nora would have to make her choice between the home and -people which he represented and her husband. How would she choose? The -hope that had comforted him before seemed all too desperate. Family and -country called her, and her love was the last frail bond which held her -to him. Would it hold good? Had it not perhaps already yielded? Was -she not already lost to him? - -Yet, as he heard the door of the neighbouring room open and the sound of -her quick footsteps, the hot blood rushed to his face, his pulses beat -faster with the hope kindled to something that was almost a joyous -certainty. She was coming to him. He would see her standing irresolute -before him, and he would take her in his arms and by the strength of an -unconquerable love draw her back over the tide which was flowing faster -and broader between them. It was impossible that he should lose her, -impossible that the outward circumstances of their lives should be -stronger than themselves and what had been best in them--their love. -Even when the footsteps stopped and he remained alone, the -impossibility, absurdity of it all was still predominant over despair. -He rose and pulled open the door. He had no clear conception of any -plan. He was so sure that the moment they stood face to face she would -understand everything by some miracle of sympathy, the very thought of -an "explanation" was a sacrilege against the power with which he felt -himself possessed. - -"Nora!" he cried joyfully. "Nora!" - -She stood immediately opposite him. Her hat had been flung recklessly -on the table, and her hair was disordered, her face white and drawn. -She made no answer to his greeting. Her eyes met his with no light in -their depths. They were sombre, black, and sullen. - -"Nora!" he repeated, and already the note of triumph had died out of his -voice. "What is the matter?" - -She came at once to him, taking his hands, not in affection but in a -sort of feverish despair. - -"Wolff," she said, "I want to go away from here--I want to go home!" - -The moment of hope and enthusiasm was over. Something mysteriously cold -and paralysing had passed like an icy breath over his self-confidence -and changed it to a frigid despair. He could not even plead with her, -nor tell her of the love which he felt for her nor of the pain which he -suffered. Everything lay at the bottom of his heart a dead, frozen -weight. He loosened her hands from his arm and forced her gently into a -chair. - -"You want to go away?" he said quietly. "Why?" - -"Because I hate this place and--and every one." - -"Does that include your home and your husband, Nora?" - -She laughed wildly. - -"My home! This isn't my home: it never has been. I have always been a -stranger--an exile here. Everything is foreign to me--everything -hateful. If you were twenty times my husband, I should say it. I loathe -and detest this country and I loathe and detest your people. I am -English. I was mad, mad, mad to believe I could ever be anything else!" - -She was hysterical with fatigue and excitement, and scarcely conscious -of what she was saying. But Wolff, who knew nothing of what had -happened at the parade, heard in her words a deliberate and final -declaration. - -"If you hate my country and my people, you must hate me," he said. "Has -it come to that already?" - -She sprang to her feet as though goaded by some frightful inner torment. - -"No, no, I don't hate you," she cried. "I love you at the bottom--at -least, I believe I do. I can't tell. Everything in me is in revolt and -uproar. I can't see you clearly as you are, as I love you. You are -just one of those others, one of those whom I detest as my deadliest -enemy. That is why I must go away. If I stayed, God knows, I believe I -should grow to hate you." - -Every trace of colour faded out of his face, but he did not speak, and -she ran to him and clasped his arm with the old reckless pleading. - -"Let me go!" she begged. "Let me go home! Things will be better then. -I shall quiet down. I shan't be so constantly maddened and irritated as -I am now. I shall have time to think. Wolff, I _must_ go!" - -"If you go now, it will be for ever," he said steadily. "The woman who -leaves her husband and her country in the time of danger sacrifices the -right to return." - -"Wolff!" Her hands sank to her side. She stared at him blankly, -horror-stricken. - -"You must see that for yourself," he went on in the same tone of rigid -self-control. "If war breaks out and you return to England, you can -never come back here as my wife. I am a German and an officer, and the -woman who shares my life must share my duty. That is the law. It is a -just and right one. Husband and wife cannot be of different factions. -They must stand together under the same flag. In marrying me you -accepted my country as your own. If you leave me now, you are turning -traitor, and there must be no traitors amongst us." - -He put the case before her with pitiless logic, more overwhelming than -the fiercest outburst of passion. The hysterical excitement died out of -her face. - -"A traitor!" she repeated dully. "How can I be that? How can any one -give up their country?" - -"I do not know," he answered, "and therefore whatever you choose I shall -not blame you. I only show you the inevitable consequences." - -"Wolff, I can't stay here. Everybody hates me. I can't hide what I -feel. You don't know the things I have done--and said. I--I insulted -some one this afternoon." - -"It can all be lived down," he returned. "People will forgive and -understand, if you stand by us." - -"But I can't--not in my heart of hearts. Wolff, if war breaks out, I -shall be praying for your ruin--yes, in your very churches I shall pray -for it. Perhaps my prayers will direct the very bullet that kills -you----" - -Her voice shook with a kind of smothered horror, which stirred the cold -weight in his heart to pity. - -"Hush, Nora, hush! That is all exaggerated feeling. It is hard for you, -but you must choose. Either you must sacrifice your country or your -husband. That is the simple issue." - -"Why should _I_ bring the sacrifice?" she retorted. "Why must _I_ be the -one to give up everything that I was taught to love and honour next to -God? If you love me, leave the army, leave Germany! Let us go -away--anywhere--and be happy together!" - -"Nora!" - -"You see!" she exclaimed with bitter triumph. "That is too much to ask -from you!" - -"I am a soldier," he said. - -"Then I would to God I had been born to so easy a profession!" - -She turned away, battling with the fierce, angry sobs that choked her. -The next instant his arms were about her. There was no hope and no joy -in his embrace. He held her as he might have done in the midst of -shipwreck and before the approach of death. - -"Do you think it is easy to put before you the choice--knowing what you -will choose?" he asked. - -"Knowing----?" she stammered. - -"You do not love me enough to stand by me." - -"That is not true!" - -She freed herself and took a step back, searching his face as though to -find there an answer to some agonising doubt. - -"That is not true," she repeated breathlessly. - -He lifted his hand in stern warning. - -"Think, Nora! We stand, you and I, at the parting of the ways. Make -your choice honestly--I shall not blame you. But once you have chosen, -there must be no turning back. If you choose to follow me, it must be -to the bitter end of your duty. You must curse my enemies and bless my -friends. Otherwise there can be no peace and happiness between us. If -you choose your country--and those others whom you love--you shall go to -them. I shall keep you in my heart until I die, but I will never see -you again." - -In spite of his strongest effort, his voice shook, and that one signal -from the depths of his despair called forth the one and only answer of -which her headlong, passionate nature was capable. She flung herself -into his arms, clinging to him in a storm of grief and pity. - -"With God's help, I will stand by you to the end, my husband!" - -For a long minute he held her to him, and then gradually he felt how her -whole frame relaxed and her arms sank powerless to her side. He looked -down into her face. It was very pale, and a faint, childlike smile of -utter weariness hovered round the half-open lips. - -"I am so tired, Wolff," she said under her breath, "so tired!" - -Without answering, he bore her to the sofa and laid her with a clumsy -tenderness among the cushions. But he did not speak again. For the -moment the conflict was over; a truce had been called between them. -Only his instinct knew it was no more than that. Thus he knelt down -silently beside her, and with her hand still clasped in his watched over -her as she slept. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIV* - - *THE CODE OF HONOUR* - - -Nora stood before the long glass in the drawing-room and studied herself -with a listless interest. The expensive white chiffon dress which Wolff -had given her for the occasion became her well, and at another time she -might have found an innocent pleasure in this contemplation of her own -picture. But she was exhausted, spiritually and physically. The storm -of the day before had shattered something in her--perhaps her youth--and -she saw in the mirror only the pale face and heavy eyes, and before her -in the near future an evening of outward gaiety and inward trial. That -which she had once sought after with feverish desire--magnificence and -contact with the great world where stuffy flats and poverty were -unknown--had become her poison. She shrank instinctively, like some -poor invalid, from all noise and movement. She would have been thankful -to be able to lie down and sleep and forget, but Duty, that grim fetish -to which she had sworn obedience, demanded of her that she should laugh -and seem merry beneath the critical, questioning eyes of those who -to-morrow might be fighting against her people. - -Miles was lying in his usual attitude on the sofa, watching her. He had -been curiously quiet the whole day, keeping to the house and avoiding -Arnim with an increased shyness. Nora believed that she understood him. -She did not see that his young face was sallow and lined with -dissipation, nor that his furtive eyes were heavy and bloodshot. She -saw in him only the brother, the Englishman, and that one fact of his -nationality covered him with a cloak, hiding from her all that was -pitiable and contemptible, lending him a dignity, a worthiness that was -not his. So also she interpreted his general conduct and his abrupt -refusal to accompany her to the Hulsons' ball. She felt that he was -awaiting the hour of departure to his own country, chafing at the bonds -which held him, and that, like a true Englishman, he shrank from all -further association with his future enemies. She honoured him for -it--she envied him for it; but she dreaded her own loneliness. She came -to his side and laid her hand gently on his shoulder. - -"I wish you were coming too," she said, "for my sake, not for yours." - -"I can't," he retorted sullenly. - -"No, I know. I was not going to try and persuade you. I understand so -well how you feel. Oh, Miles, you must go back to England--we must -manage it somehow. I shall tell Wolff to-night. Things can't be worse -than they are--and perhaps he will help." - -Miles Ingestre looked at her keenly. An expression that was half -cunning, half amused lifted the moody shadows from his face. It was -obvious that she did not know what had passed between Wolff and himself, -and it was not his intention to tell her. His promise to Wolff on the -subject did not weigh with him--he had other and better reasons for -keeping silence. In the first place, he had no wish to awaken any sense -of gratitude towards her husband in Nora's heart; in the second, he -still needed money. - -"You need not worry him with my debts," he said carelessly. "They can -wait, and anyhow they wouldn't keep me in Berlin. The difficulty is on -the other side." - -"In England?" - -"Yes; I must have ready money somehow. I can't go back until the way -has been cleared a little." He pulled himself up on to his elbow. -"Look here, Nora, you could help me if you wanted. Wolff can't and -won't do anything, but there's Bauer. You don't need to look so -shocked--he's told me himself that he would do me a good turn, only his -sister-in-law has the purse-strings, and you have rather offended her. -If you went to her ball on the 18th----" - -"Miles, it is impossible! You don't know----" - -"I only know that if you don't help me I shall be in a bad fix. When -the war breaks out----" - -"Is war certain?" - -"Unless they funk it. I believe the ambassador has his trunks packed -and his carriage waiting." - -Nora made a gesture of mingled impatience and despair. - -"Why must there be war?" she cried. "Why can't we leave each other -alone? What is there to quarrel about?" - -"Nothing!" Miles retorted. "The whole thing is got up. The beggars -want more than is good for them, and we've got to keep them in their -places. That's the gist of the matter. It has to come sooner or -later." - -Nora was silent. His words, with their unvaried mingling of scorn and -pride, aroused in her an equally mingled feeling of irritation and -sympathy. Why was he so sure of victory, why so scornful of "these -foreigners"? What right had he to be either contemptuous or arrogant? -What right had she to share those feelings with him, even if only in the -secret places of her heart? - -"By the way," Miles went on, watching her intently. "What's the matter -with you and poor old Arnold? He has been here twice to-day, and you -have been so-called 'out' each time. I got a note from him asking what -was up. It's pretty rough luck on him, as he wants to say good-bye." - -"Good-bye?" Nora repeated. She had started perceptibly, and Miles -grinned. - -"He has marching orders, and is leaving to-morrow night. I bet he would -have gone days ago if it hadn't been--well, for some one!" - -"Miles, I will not have you talk like that!" - -She had turned on him scarlet with anger and humiliation, but Miles only -burst out laughing. - -"You need not get into such a rage, sweet sister mine! I didn't say it -was you, though if the cap fits----" He broke off into a sulky silence. -Wolff had entered. He was in full dress, and bespattered with mud, as -though he had returned from an arduous ride. In one hand he carried a -dispatch case. One glance at his face showed them that he controlled a -strong excitement. - -"I am awfully sorry, Nora," he said hurriedly, "it is impossible for me -to accompany you. I have been driven from pillar to post the whole day, -and now I have some work which will take me the whole night. You must -give my excuses to General von Hulson. He will understand why it is. A -good many officers will be absent for the same reason." - -"Then I must go alone?" she asked. - -Absorbed as he was, he heard the reproach and annoyance. - -"Do you mind that?" - -"I shall hate it!" she said emphatically. - -The word "hate," with all its too recent associations, caused him to -look at her closely. He saw that she had lost her pallor, and that the -old defiant light burnt in her eyes. - -"Perhaps it would be better, then, if Miles accompanied you," he said. -"There is still time." - -"I do not wish Miles to do anything he objects to," she returned coldly. -"No doubt he has his reasons for not going." - -Wolff's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. - -"No doubt," he said, glancing in Miles's direction; "but perhaps if I -added my appeal to yours he would consent to overcome--his reasons." - -Miles rose sullenly to his feet. - -"If you want it--of course," he mumbled. - -Wolff nodded absently. He went into his room, closed the door, leaving -Nora alone. There had been an expression of anxiety on his face which -did not, however, excuse his apparent indifference in Nora's eyes, and -she stood frowning after him, puzzled and deeply wounded. But she made -no attempt to follow him. The scene of the previous evening had been a -last effort; she was too weary, too hopeless to strive again after a -reunion which seemed already an impossibility. - -Twenty minutes later Miles reappeared in the full glory of his evening -clothes. Nora was surprised--perhaps a little disappointed--to observe -that his spirits had risen. - -"The carriage is waiting," he said. "Hurry up, or we shall be late." - -Nora hesitated. A superstitious clinging to an old custom led her to -the threshold of Wolff's room. She tried the handle of the door without -effect, and when she turned away again her cheeks were scarlet. - -"Locked, eh?" Miles said. "I bet he's afraid of us catching sight of -his papers. Arnold said some of those staff fellows have the handling -of pretty valuable stuff." - -Nora gave no attention to his words, though she was destined to remember -them. She led the way down the narrow stairs into the street where the -cab was waiting for them, and a minute later they were rattling out of -the little by-street into the busy thoroughfare. - -It seemed to Nora that the crowds were denser than usual, that a curious -unrest was written on the usually placid, cheerful faces that flashed -past the open carriage window. She remembered Wolff's expression as he -had entered the room; she felt now that it had been the unconscious -reflection from those other faces, and that the one invisible bond of -sympathy which unites all men of the same race had passed on the flame -of patriotism from one to another, till in all these thousands there -burned, above every meaner passion, the supreme _Vaterlandsliebe_. Only -_she_ felt nothing, nothing--though she was bound to them by oath--save -fear and horror. She felt alone, deserted. Miles was the one being in -the whole seething crowd who felt as she felt, who suffered as she -suffered. She turned to him with an impulsive tenderness. He was not -looking out of the window, but staring straight before him, with his low -forehead puckered into thoughtful lines. - -"It's a queer thing," he said, as though he felt her questioning glance. -"Here we both are in a foreign country, mixing with people whom we shall -be blowing up to-morrow, and to-day not moving a finger to harm them, -just because the word has not been given, as it were. If I threw a bomb -amongst all those big-wigs to-night, who knows what victories I might -prevent?--and yet I suppose it would be murder. And then, there is -Wolff stewing over papers that, I bet, the English War Office would give -a few thousands just to look at; you and I sit and watch him and never -move a hand." - -"What do you expect us to do?" she returned listlessly. - -"Nothing, I suppose." - -The rest of the drive passed in silence, and once in the ball-room, Nora -lost sight of her brother completely. He drifted off by himself, -whither and with whom she could not think, for she knew that he had no -friends in the brilliant crowd. She, too, was friendless, though there -were many there who bowed to her and passed on, and for the first time -she realised the full extent of her isolation. The Selenecks were not -there, and she was glad of their absence: she would have hated them to -have been witnesses of her loneliness. Those whom she knew, whose -comradeship with her husband should have guaranteed a certain courtesy, -passed her by. Nora cared nothing for them, but the humiliation stung -her to the quick. She was English, and because she was English they -insulted her, tacitly and deliberately. Not all the months in her -husband's country had taught her to understand that she had insulted -them, that she had trampled on their pride of race, and scorned the -customs and opinions which were their holiest possessions. It never -occurred to her that the description of the scene of the previous -afternoon had passed from lip to lip with the rapidity of lightning, and -that in the eyes of that mighty brotherhood of soldiers, and of that -still mightier sisterhood of their wives, she was branded as a renegade, -as a woman who had spat upon her husband's uniform, and exalted another -race above that to which she belonged--a _Deutschfeindliche_, an enemy -who masqueraded among them under a transparent guise of hypocritical -friendship. Perhaps some pitied her; but for the most part they were -the older men, whose experience taught them to be pitiful--and they were -not present on this particular night. Even if they had been they could -have done nothing to help her. She was an outcast, and for them she had -made herself "unclean." Thus poor Nora, still young and headstrong in -all her emotions, her sensibilities raw with the events of the last -weeks, stood alone and watched the scene before her with eyes from which -the tears were held back by the strength of pride alone. - -There must have been considerably over two hundred guests present, -almost exclusively officers of lower rank, with here and there a -civilian to throw the brilliant uniforms into more striking relief. -Nora could not but be impressed by the tall, finely built men, with the -strong-cut, bronzed faces, and in each she saw a dim reflection of her -husband. There was perhaps no real resemblance, but they were of one -type--they were German, and that one similarity aroused in her the old -feeling of wild opposition against the man she loved, and whom she had -sworn to stand by to the end. Her love for him was as genuine as her -admiration for these, his brothers--as genuine as her hatred for him and -for them all. - -In the midst of her bitter reflections she heard a voice speak to her, -and, turning, found Bauer at her side. She had expected him the whole -evening, and her humiliation deepened as she saw the cynical -satisfaction in his eyes. She knew that he was triumphing in the belief -that he had won, that in her loneliness she would turn to him, and the -knowledge changed her misery to a desperate pride. - -"Well, _gnädige Frau_," he said. She made no answer, and his smile -broadened. "You see, I am very punctual," he went on. "I have come for -my answer. What is it to be?" - -"I gave it you once," she returned. "Is that not enough?" - -"Circumstances can alter the most determined. Are you not tired of this -Pharisaical crowd, who pretend to look upon you as dirt because you do -not pronounce their shibboleth as it pleases them? Are you not ready now -to come amongst friends who wish you well--who would help you? You have -only to say the word." - -She looked about her, feeling her isolation like an icy wind, and for an -instant knew temptation. How easy it would be to yield! What, after -all, had he asked of her?--her friendship, common politeness for the -woman who had shown her kindness. What had he offered her? His help -and support in her loneliness and need. Then she remembered--and the -temptation passed. - -"My answer remains the same, Herr Rittmeister." - -His face became suffused with a dull red. - -"_Gnädige Frau_, take care! It is not only your brother who will suffer -for your decision!" - -She heard the angry threat in his voice, and a feeling of contempt and -aversion, almost physical in its intensity, came over her. She looked -about her, half unconsciously seeking some way of escape. Miles was -nowhere to be seen. Her eyes flashed rapidly over the crowd, picking -out the black evening coats, and then for the first time she saw Arnold. -She went to meet him, regardless of prudence, of the rage in Bauer's -eyes, of the malice and suspicion that watched her from every side. She -only knew that a friend had come to her in the midst of enemies, and -that she was no longer alone. - -"Oh, Robert!" she cried. "How glad I am to see you! How did you manage -to come here?" - -"The Ambassador got me the invitation," he said, taking her hand in his -strong clasp. "God knows it isn't the time to seek such hospitality, -but I had to see you somehow, Nora, before I went." - -"Let us get away from this crowd," she said hurriedly. "We can't talk -here." - -He gave her his arm and led her to one of the supper-tables that were -placed beneath the gallery. - -"We can pretend to want coffee, or something of the sort," he said. "No -one will disturb us." - -She looked across and smiled at him with a fleeting radiance. Oh, that -English voice, that English face! Laughter of relief and thankfulness -fought with the tears that had so long lain checked, and now struggled -for release beneath the touch of a friend's unspoken sympathy. - -"Nora, what is wrong?" he went on. "Why wouldn't you see me? Have I -offended you in any way?" - -"Offended me!" She laughed brokenly. "Do I look offended, Robert? -Don't you know I could have danced for joy when I saw you coming?" - -Reckless Nora! Her words, spoken in a moment of relief from an -agonising pressure, had not the meaning which he believed he read out of -them. Something was not any longer so selfless, so resigned, flashed -into his steady grey eyes. - -"Then what is it, Nora? Tell me everything. You know you have promised -me your friendship." - -She did not hesitate an instant. Those three hours beneath the enemy's -fire had driven her to exasperation, to that point of hysterical -nervousness from which most feminine folly is committed. - -"They forbade my seeing you," she said--"not in words; but they said -things which left me no choice. They said I was bringing disgrace upon -my husband, and upon his name----" - -"Nora! Who said that?" - -"Frau von Arnim. She hates me. And Wolff said much the same. They -can't understand a straight, honest friendship between a man and a -woman." - -"You mean it was because of me?" - -"Yes. Of course Frau von Arnim knows everything about--about the past, -and she believes--oh, it is too horrid what she believes. We don't need -to think about it. She has not told Wolff. If she had he would have -turned me out of the house or locked me up in the cellar. None of -them--not even he--can understand. Oh, Robert, you don't know how hard -it was to have to send you away! You and Miles are the only people in -all this big city to whom I can turn." - -Arnold sat silent, staring in front of him. His pulses were beating -with a growing, suffocating excitement. He knew by every tone of her -voice, by every glance of her stormy, miserable eyes, that she was in -his power, that he had but to make the appeal and she would follow him -out of the room whithersoever he led her. The knowledge touched his -steady-flowing blood with fever--in the same moment he was conscious of -remorse and shame. He had lingered at her side against every behest of -wisdom and honour, deceiving himself and her with an assumption of -loyal, disinterested friendship. It was no friendship. Those who had -judged it by another name had judged rightly. He had come between -husband and wife, he was at that very moment, willingly or unwillingly, -playing the part of tempter in the devil's comedy. - -"Nora," he began, "perhaps I have done you harm. Perhaps I ought not to -have come to-night." - -"I don't care!" she retorted recklessly. "I don't care whether anything -is right or wrong. When you came I was desperate. I hate every one -here. It is awful to feel that I belong to them. I want to get away -from here--home, to England." - -"Nora--for God's sake!" He was frightened now--of her and of himself. -"You must not talk like that. Your home is here with your husband." - -"It is not!" she retorted, in the same low, trembling voice. "It is in -England--it can never be anywhere else. Oh, you don't know what I -suffer!" - -"I can guess. Why don't you tell Wolff everything? Why don't you -confide in him?" - -Everything in him revolted against his own words. They were spoken, not -out of innermost conviction, but as a stern tribute to his honour, and -the principles which were bred into his bone and blood. - -"I have," she said, "but it was of no good. He could not help me--no -one can. It is as he said--one must choose." - -"Poor child!" - -"I deserve it all. It is my punishment. I did wrong in marrying Wolff, -I did wrong to make you suffer. And now I suffer----" - -"Nora!" An immense tenderness crept into his voice. He heard it, and -the next moment he had regained his self-control. He was ashamed of the -rôle he had been about to play. "We must bear our lot," he said -sternly. - -The waltz, under cover of which their rapid conversation had taken -place, died into silence, and close upon the momentary hush that -followed, they heard the dull thud of a falling body, a crash of glass -and a low hubbub, above which one loud angry voice was distinctly -audible. Nora started to her feet. Whether she had recognised that -voice, or whether she was led by some instinct, she did not know. Her -heart was beating with fear and excitement. - -"Something has happened!" she exclaimed. "Quick!" - -Arnold followed her in the direction whence the sounds came. In one of -the adjoining alcoves a little group of officers had collected, and as -they approached near enough to see what was happening, Arnold turned to -Nora and tried to draw her on one side. - -"Don't go!" he said. "It is some silly quarrel! Let me see to it." - -"No, no!" she returned hoarsely, and pushed forward to the outside of -the circle. She saw Miles standing by the table; he was leaning on it -as though for support, his dress was disordered, his features crimson -with drink and passion. A young officer had hold of him by the arm and -was evidently trying to hold him back. A few feet away Bauer was -rearranging his collar, with an assumption of contemptuous calm. A red -scar upon his cheek told its own story. - -"You d----d liar!" Miles shrieked in English, struggling against the -detaining hold upon his arm. "If it wasn't that they protected you I'd -thrash you within an inch of your life!" - -His opponent smiled scornfully. - -"I do not care for boxing-matches in a ball-room." he said, "not even -with an intoxicated Englishman. Captain von Ebberstein, I should be very -glad if you would represent me in this matter." - -The one elderly officer present bowed, and approached Miles, whom he -also saluted with a faultless formality, which contrasted strikingly -with the other's unsteady, excited movements. - -"Perhaps the gentleman would kindly name his seconds," he said, speaking -in broken English. "The continuation of this affair can then be -arranged on a more becoming occasion." - -Arnold tried to loosen Nora's grasp upon his arm. - -"I must get him out of this somehow," he whispered. "They are trying to -force him into a duel." - -Miles, however, gave him no time to interfere. - -"What the devil do you mean?" he demanded. - -The officer shrugged his shoulders. - -"You felt yourself wounded in your honour and have avenged yourself by -insulting this officer here. That can have but one meaning." - -"I swear I don't know what you are talking about!" - -"There are certain injuries for which there is but one remedy," was the -cold explanation. - -A light seemed to dawn over Miles's scarlet face. He burst into a high, -wavering laugh. - -"You think I am going to fight a duel? You think I'm going to make such -a d----d fool of myself?" he demanded thickly. - -The officers looked at each other in contemptuous silence. Bauer smiled -and turned aside, as though to spare himself the sight of so profound a -humiliation. Captain von Ebberstein alone retained his expression of -profound gravity. - -"A gentleman is expected to give satisfaction," he said. - -"I don't care what you expect," was Miles's retort. "I'll have nothing -to do with such infernal nonsense. He lied, and I choked the lie down -his throat, and there's an end to the matter!" - -"On the contrary, it is the beginning." - -"I think differently." - -Bauer advanced. He was swinging his white kid glove carelessly -backwards and forwards, and there was the same scornful smile about his -lips. At the same moment his eyes fell on Nora's face, and the smile -deepened with malicious satisfaction. - -"In that case, it is my duty to inform you that you are neither a -gentleman nor a man of honour," he said. "As such, and as a coward, you -will feel no objection to my expressing my feelings--thus!" - -He flung the glove full into Miles's face. - -There was a moment of expectant silence. Miles appeared to ignore what -had happened. The temporary excitement was over, and the wine was -beginning to numb his senses with the first touch of drowsiness. It was -Arnold's opportunity. He pushed through the little circle and took -Miles firmly by the arm. - -"Let me pass!" he said to those about him. "This gentleman is my -friend." - -Miles yielded passively, and no one made any effort to detain him. The -group fell back on either side, as they would have done from people -infected with disease, and Arnold guided the wavering Miles across the -ballroom. The floor was empty, and Nora felt she must sink beneath the -hundreds of eyes that watched them. Yet she carried herself haughtily, -and the one thought that flashed clearly through her mind, as the great -glass doors swung behind her, was that she was free--that, come what -would, she could never see those people again. The last possibility of -her existence amongst them was destroyed. Further than that she refused -to think. - -The drive home was an absolutely silent one. Miles, yielding to the -influence of champagne and the late excitement, fell into a disturbed -doze, from which Arnold and Nora made no attempt to arouse him. They sat -opposite each other in the half-light, avoiding each other's eyes. - -Thus they reached the gloomy little house which was Nora's home. - -"I had better help him upstairs," Arnold said quietly. "We must make as -little fuss as possible." - -Nora consented with a brief inclination of the head. She was past all -struggle against circumstances. Between them they succeeded in piloting -Miles up the endless flights. He seemed, quite unconscious of his -state, and talked loudly and incessantly, so that all hope of bringing -him to his room unobserved was doomed as vain. Nevertheless, stunned -and indifferent as she was, Nora started back involuntarily as Wolff met -them in the passage. He carried a candle in his hand, and the light -reflected on his pale, exhausted face fell also on Miles, and revealed -enough of the truth. He glanced away at Nora, and from Nora to Arnold. -His expression betrayed no feeling, but she felt that he was trying to -read into the very depths of their souls. - -"Please come in here," he said quietly. - -He led the way into the drawing-room and switched on the light, and they -followed him without protest. - -"Tell me what happened," he commanded. - -Arnold made a movement as though he would have spoken, but Wolff stopped -him with a courteous but decided gesture. - -"I wish Miles to tell me--if he can," he said. - -Miles lifted his hanging head. A silly self-satisfaction twisted his -unsteady lips. - -"I can tell you right enough," he said, "only I'll sit down, if you -don't mind, I feel so infernally shaky. It was Bauer, you know. I was -having my supper when I heard him and another fellow talking, and though -I'm not good at the jargon I caught the drift of what he was saying. It -was about a woman. He said if he were her husband he would make an end -of such a dirty scandal, and put a bullet through some one or other's -head. You can fancy that I pricked up my ears, and I turned and saw -that he was pointing at Nora and Arnold. That was too much for me. I -got up and asked what he meant. He told me--and I swear it wasn't nice. -He said----" - -Wolff lifted his hand. - -"I don't want to hear that," he said. "Go on." - -"Well, I knocked him down, and there was the devil of a row!" Miles -laughed unsteadily. "The silly fools wanted me to fight a duel over -it!" he added. - -"And you----?" - -"I told them I wasn't going to make such a d----d idiot of myself." - -Wolff said nothing for a moment. His whole face had stiffened, and he -was looking at Miles from head to foot. - -"And after that they called you a coward?" he asked, at last. - -"Some rot like that----" - -"And they were right. You are a coward--the vilest, most pitiful coward -I have ever met." - -"Wolff!" - -It was Nora who had cried out. The insult had fallen on her brother and -herself alike, and her voice shook with passionate indignation. - -Her husband turned to her. - -"The man who is not ready to risk his life for his sister's honour _is_ -a coward," he asserted deliberately. - -A gesture of protest escaped Arnold, who had hitherto remained silent -and motionless. - -"You forget," he said. "In England we do not duel--it is not our -custom." - -"No; you go to law and take money for your injured honour," was the -coldly scornful answer. "That is the revenge of shopkeepers--not of -gentlemen." - -The two men measured each other in painful electric silence, and as they -stood there face to face, the contrast between them marked them as two -great types of two great races. The thin, loosely built Englishman, -with the long, gaunt features, confronted the German, whose broad -shoulders and massive head seemed to make him taller than his opponent. -Perhaps some vague notion of the conflict which they represented dawned -in Nora's mind. She looked from one to the other, terrified of the -forces behind the masks of stern self-repression, and instinctively -weighing them in a mental balance. For the first time in their married -life she was afraid of her husband. It seemed to her that his height -and breadth had increased in the last moments; there was something -gigantic in the stature, and something bulldog, tenacious, and yet -keenly alive, powerfully intellectual in the face, with its square chin -and massive forehead. Compared with him, Arnold, tall and wiry though he -was in reality, appeared enfeebled, almost fragile. If the two men had -fallen upon each other in that moment--the very possibility sickened -Nora's heart with fear. She had seen Arnold's hands clench themselves -as Wolff's scornful criticism had been uttered, and involuntarily she -had taken a quick step forward as though to fling herself between them. -But there was no need for interference. Both men possessed admirable -self-control, and in that moment at least they respected each other. - -"We have our own opinions on these matters," Arnold said. "You have -yours. Mr. Ingestre is an Englishman, and does not need to conform to -your customs. He gave his opponent the lie, and has done all that he -need do." - -"So you have said," Wolff returned calmly. "In my eyes, and in the eyes -of my world, there is still much to be done. But that--as the one -German here--concerns me alone." He turned to Miles, who was still -seated, his face in his hands, apparently dozing. "Go to your room!" he -commanded peremptorily. The tone of almost brutal authority acted like a -goad on Nora's tortured nerves. - -"You speak to my brother as though he were a dog!" she burst out. - -Wolff did not answer her. - -"Go to your room!" he repeated. - -Miles staggered to his feet and tottered across to the door. He seemed -to be obeying the hypnotising power of Wolff's voice, for his movements -were those of a sleep-walker. - -"Good night, every one!" he mumbled. "Good night!" - -No one responded. The two men again faced each other. - -"I am grateful to you for the assistance you rendered my wife," Wolff -said. "We shall scarcely meet again." - -"Not here, at any rate," was the significant answer. - -A curt salute, and Arnold turned away. He gave Nora his hand. - -"Good-bye--and God bless you!" he said. - -Her lips moved soundlessly. For an instant it seemed almost as though -she clung to him. Then her hand fell listlessly to her side, and the -next minute he too had gone. - -Husband and wife did not speak. Nora seated herself at the table and -buried her face in her arms. She cried without restraint, not loudly, -but with low, monotonous, terrible sobs. - -Her husband crossed to the door of his room. He stood there a moment, -his head bowed, listening. It was as though he were receiving some -final message from those sounds of piteous self-abandonment. But he did -not look at Nora. He went out, and the soft click of the lock pierced -through her grief, so that she started upright. - -She saw that the door was closed, and that she was alone. - - - - - *CHAPTER XV* - - *THE SEA BETWEEN* - - -To reach Wolff's study it was necessary to pass through the -drawing-room. On his way, therefore, Captain von Seleneck encountered -Nora, who was seated at her table writing. He bowed, she answered with -a slight inclination of the head and he passed on, as a total stranger -might have done, into the inner sanctuary. - -He found Wolff at work on some nearly finished plans. He was standing -over them, and with a compass measuring distances with a careful, -painstaking exactitude, and his face, as he looked up, though haggard -almost beyond belief, was absolutely determined, without trace of -weakness. - -The two men shook hands and Wolff went on working. - -"It was good of you to come, Kurt," he said. "I know you must be -overburdened with duty just now." - -"One has always time for a comrade, and especially for you," was the -answer; "and whether you had sent for me or not, I should have -come--like a bird of ill-omen. I felt I owed it to you as your friend, -and you would rather have it from me than from another man. It seems, -though, you know all about last night?" - -"Quite enough." - -"It was a wretched affair," Seleneck said, placing his helmet on the -table. "I got it from an eye-witness. Of course, your precious -brother-in-law had had too much to drink. That was inevitable, and -might have been hushed up. But then came the row with Bauer. It was -obvious that Bauer was on the look-out for mischief, and I should like -to give Mr. Ingestre the credit for knocking him down as a return for -what he said about your wife. Unfortunately, the real subject of -dispute was--money." - -Wolff nodded. - -"How did you hear of it?" he asked. - -"Ebberstein came straight to me. It was rather decent of him. He knew, -of course, that I was your friend, and the best person to tell you what -had happened. It was obvious that you had to be told. You see--it was -not only your brother-in-law. Your--wife's name and--and honour were -dragged in." - -Wolff's lips tightened. - -"I know," he said. "Go on!" - -"Well, we talked it over, and I promised to come round to you directly I -was free. When I got back this morning I found your letter waiting for -me, and here I am!" He laid his hand with an affectionate movement on -his comrade's shoulder. "Whatever it is--I'm your man," he said. - -"I know, _alter Junge_. You have always stuck to me. You were the one -man in all Berlin to whom I felt I could turn with real confidence. By -the way, I suppose I may leave the arrangement of things in your hands?" - -"I shall be proud to act for you, Wolff. To all intents and purposes -everything is settled. Ebberstein and I talked it over last night. In -the almost certain event of your challenging, we decided that a Court of -Honour should sit this evening in my house and that the meeting should -take place at the latest to-morrow morning. It is impossible to know -when we shall have marching-orders, so there must be no delay. If you -wish it, I shall proceed at once to Bauer and find out whom he intends -to appoint as seconds. The rest of the formalities you can safely -entrust to me." - -"Thank you. When is the Court of Honour appointed to sit?" - -"If it can be managed, at six o'clock. The circumstances are simple -enough, so that the conditions should be very quickly settled. You, of -course, are the challenging party, and the matter will come under the -head of '_schwere Beleidigung_,' so that ten paces will be about the -outcome. Are you good at that distance?" - -"Pretty well." - -"Ebberstein says your man is a first-class shot. _Es heisst aufpassen_, -Wolff!" - -Arnim made no answer and his companion took up his helmet. - -"I shall come round to you this evening as soon as the Court's decision -has been given," he said. - -Wolff looked up quickly. - -"If you don't mind, I would prefer to come to you," he said. "And if I -might, I will stay the night at your house. It would be better. I do -not want my wife to know anything of what is to happen." - -"But--_Menschenkind_! She _must_ know!" - -"She suspects nothing. You forget--she is not one of us. She does not -understand." - -Seleneck stared thoughtfully in front of him, pulling his moustache as -though a prey to some painful uneasiness. - -"Of course I hope the very best for you, Wolff," he said, at last, "but -you are a big man, and unlucky accidents happen. It would be pretty -hard on your wife if she knew nothing and----" - -"It would be a shock," interrupted Wolff quietly. "I know that. Believe -me, though, what I have arranged is for the best. She would not -understand." - -Seleneck asked none of the questions that were burning the tip of his -tongue. A natural delicacy, above all, his comrade's face, held him -silent, and it was Wolff who continued after a moment: - -"In the event of what you call an 'unlucky accident' my wife will, of -course, return to her own country. Her brother is starting for England -to-morrow, so that she will be able to accompany him. But in any -case--whether I fall or not--I beg of you to do your utmost to shield -her from all trouble--and scandal. She is innocent--absolutely -innocent. I know--you cannot hide it from me--that you and all the rest -blame her. She is not to be blamed because she married a man not of her -own people. She is to be profoundly pitied. That is all, and it -explains everything." - -"You talk as though you were certain of the worst," Seleneck said. "But -if everything goes well--what then?" - -The compasses slipped from Wolff's fingers. - -"God knows!" he said. - -It was no exclamation of despair, rather a reverent surrender of a life -which he could no longer shape alone, and Seleneck turned aside, more -deeply moved than he cared to show. He had known Wolff from the -earliest _Kadetten_ days, and had watched the dawn of great promise -break into a day of seeming fulfilment. With unchanging, unenvying -friendship he had followed the brilliant career, admiring the boy's -ambition ripening to steadfast purpose, the boyish spirits steadying to -a bold and fearless optimism. And, after all, he ended as others -ended--in shipwreck--only more tragically, with the port of Victory in -sight. Seleneck remembered his own words spoken only a few months -before: "Take care that you do not end as Field-Marshal with -Disappointment for an Adjutant!" And Wolff was not even major, and -something worse than Disappointment, something that was more like -Catastrophe, had already chosen him as comrade. - -Against Wolff's wish, Seleneck blamed Nora bitterly. He held her -responsible for every shadow that had fallen upon the hopeful life, but -he swore to himself that she should not know it, and that he would prove -her friend for her husband's sake, whatever befell. - -"My will is, of course, made," Wolff said, breaking upon his troubled -reflections, "and here is a letter to my aunt and Hildegarde; please -give it to them in the event of my death." - -"And for your wife?" - -"This other letter is for her." - -Seleneck took the two envelopes and put them in his pocket. - -"I think everything is settled now?" he said. - -"Everything. I shall work at these plans as long as possible, and if I -get them finished I shall take them to Colonel von Beck before I come to -you. If not, I shall leave them locked in here and bring you the key. -If anything happens to me, you will know where to find them. They are -of some importance, and I would be grateful if you would see to it that -they are taken at once to head-quarters." - -"Pray Heaven you may be able to take them yourself!" Seleneck returned -earnestly. - -Wolff made no answer, but he straightened his shoulders and held out a -steady hand. - -"In any case, thank you for your friendship, Kurt," he said. "It has -been the best--no, almost the best thing in my life." - -That loyal correction touched the elder man profoundly, and for the -first time a faint trace of emotion relaxed Wolff's set features. - -"Do not let my wife suspect that anything serious has passed between -us," he added. "She suffers enough." - -The two men embraced, and Seleneck went out of the room with his brows -knitted in bitter, painful lines. He did not wish to see Wolff's wife, -much less speak with her, but she was still seated by the table, and as -he entered she rose as though she had been waiting for him. She did not -offer him her hand, and in spite of all his resolutions he felt that the -enmity and distrust were in his eyes as he waited for her to speak. - -"Has anything happened?" she asked breathlessly. - -If he could have forgotten his friend's face, he might have pitied her -in that moment. Only a few months had passed since he had welcomed the -girlish bride on the Karlsburg platform, and now all the girlhood had -gone. She looked old as she stood there--pitiably old, because the age -lay only in the expression, which was bitter, miserable, and reckless. - -"What should have happened, _gnädige Frau_?" Seleneck answered, parrying -her question with an indifference which concealed a very real anxiety. -He could not free himself from the conviction that she knew. He could -not imagine it possible that she was ignorant of the consequences of the -last night's catastrophe. - -"You know very well what I mean!" Nora said roughly. "I ask you because -you must know. Will there be war?" - -Seleneck nearly laughed. So much for his sharp-sightedness! She had -not been thinking of her husband, but of herself; or was perhaps the -fear written on her face, fear for his safety? He did not believe it. -He was too bitter against her to give her the benefit of the doubt. - -"I know no more than you know, _gnädige Frau_," he said. "Our ultimatum -has been sent to England. The next twenty-four hours must decide." - -"But surely you have an idea--surely you can guess?" - -"_Gnädige Frau_, we soldiers are not politicians. We are ready to march -when the order is given. That is the only point with which we are -concerned." - -He waited an instant, and then, as she did not answer, he clapped his -spurred heels together and went. - -Nora crept back to her place at the table. Her movements were like -those of a woman who has struggled up from a severe illness, and as she -sat there with the pen in her listless hand she asked herself if this -feeling of deadly physical inertia were not indeed the forerunner of the -definite breakdown of her whole strength. Alone her thoughts seemed -alive, to be indued with an agonising vitality which left her no peace -or rest. They had followed her through the short night hours of sleep, -and they pursued her now till she could have cried out with pain and -despair. They were not thoughts that helped her, or sought a way for her -out of the problem of her life. They were of the kind that haunt the -fevered mind in dreams, pictures of the past and of the future that -slipped across her mental vision in kaleidoscopic confusion, only to -return again and again with hideous persistency. She could not control -them; she sat there and yielded herself listlessly to their torture, -leaving to Fate the whole guidance of the future. She had no plans of -her own. Once it had occurred to her to write to her mother, but she -had not traced more than the first few lines before the pen fell from -her hand. Pride, rather than love, held her back from the bitter -confession of her wretchedness. The thought of her father's triumph and -her mother's grief had been sufficient to turn her away from the one -path which still remained open to her. - -Thus her thoughts continued their round, and the winter dusk deepened to -evening. The servant had forgotten to attend to the stove, and a bitter -penetrating cold ate into her very heart. She cared too little to move. -She sat with her chin resting on her hand and watched the snow that was -beginning to fall in the quiet street. Winter--in a few days Christmas! -The thoughts took a swift turn. A year ago she had been at home, -fighting with the courage of her youth for what she deemed her -happiness. A year ago she had slept--foolish child!--with Wolff's last -letter beneath her pillow and sworn to it that, come what might, she -would trample on home and people and country, and follow him -whithersoever he would lead her. "Thy people shall be my people, thy -God my God!" A year ago--no more than that! And now she sat alone, and -the door was locked between them. - -She listened intently, and again her thoughts changed their course. -What was he doing? Was he, too, sitting alone, as she sat, with his -face between his hands, gazing into the ruin of his life's happiness? A -wave of pity, even of tenderness, passed like a thawing breath over her -frozen misery. Could she not go to him and put her arms about his -shoulders, and plead with him, "Let all be good between us! Take me -away from here to the other end of the earth and let us forget! I -cannot bear to suffer thus, nor to see you suffer!" Surely it was not -too late. - -Urged by a hope born of her despair, she rose quickly and went to his -door. She heard him move; there was a sound of papers being turned -over, the clatter of keys, a short sigh of satisfaction, and then slow -steps approaching from the other side. Her hand, raised in the act of -knocking, fell paralysed. The next instant she was back at her table -writing--what and to whom she never knew. But she was laughing to -herself--that piteous heart-rending laughter of those who find in -themselves the butt for the bitterest mockery. He had been working. -Not for an instant had he been thrown out of his course by the storm -which was threatening her with total shipwreck. He had gone on with his -plans, his maps, his calculations as though nothing had happened, as -though she were no more than an episode in his life. He did not care -for her suffering--or what was worse, he did not know, so complete was -the severance of their union. - -A year ago! It might have been ten years, ten ages. The moment when he -had held her in his arms for the first time might have been a dream and -this the reality, grim, cold, and intolerable. She heard the key turn -in the lock, the crack of the door as it opened. She heard Wolff's -heavy step on the parquette, and then once more the closing of the door -and the noise of the key twice turned and withdrawn. Then silence. She -went on writing--words that had no meaning. Her pulses were at the -gallop with suspense, fear, and an emotion which she did not stop to -analyse. They had not met since the night before. What would he say to -her--or she to him? - -"How cold it is!" he said quietly. "The fire has gone out. You must be -freezing!" - -She did not lift her head for a moment, so startled was she by the -perfect equanimity of his words and tone. And yet it was what she might -have expected. It was all in perfect harmony with his whole character, -with his whole conduct. He had seen the last link between them break -and had gone back to his room and worked steadily throughout the night, -and now he came and talked to her--about the fire! - -"Johann is out," he went on, "but I dare say I can manage." - -She turned then, and looked at him. He was kneeling by the stove trying -to rekindle the dying embers with some sticks he had found in the -coal-scuttle. He had changed his clothes for his full uniform, and the -helmet with the plume lay at his side on the floor, together with the -sword and white kid gloves. A bitter, sarcastic smile relaxed Nora's -set lips. She wondered that it had never struck her before how prosaic, -almost plebeian he was. The splendid clothes had, after all, only been -the gilt covering to a piece of machinery working in blind accordance -with thousands of others in its one great task--a dull, brute thing, for -whom the finer emotions were a sealed book. She saw him in a new light -as he knelt there, his shadow thrown up against the wall by the -rekindling fire. She felt as though he were a total stranger against -whom she felt an increasing antagonism. - -Presently he rose, dusting his hands on his handkerchief. - -"I think it will do now," he said. "Do you want the light? You can't -possibly see." - -"I would rather be as I am," she answered coldly. - -She covered her face with her hand and appeared to forget his presence. -But in a rapid, inexplicable revulsion of feeling, the first fear and -suspense returned, and though she did not see him she followed his every -movement, her ears translating every sound with the precision of a -second-sight. She heard him pick up sword and helmet, then the soft, -familiar click of his spurs as he crossed the room to the farther door. -Then the sound stopped, and she knew that he was looking at her. The -silence seemed to last an eternity. It suffocated her; she felt that if -it lasted another instant she must scream out, so frightful was the -strain, and yet, when as though obeying an irresistible behest he came -back upon his steps and put his hand upon her shoulder, she prayed for -that silence to come back, anything rather than that he should speak to -her. - -"_Gott segne dich und behüte dich, meine Frau!_" he said, and bent and -kissed her hand. - -That was all. The next minute the loud clang of the outer door told her -that he had gone. - -For a long time she sat as though paralysed, listening to the words as -they echoed through her memory. He had spoken in German--as he never did -save in moments of deep feeling--and there had been something in his -voice which she had never heard before. She sprang to her feet. The -earlier lassitude and indifference were over, she felt as though every -nerve in her body had been drawn taut by some nameless, indefinable -fear. - -"Wolff!" she cried. "Wolff!" - -She knew that he was out of hearing. She knew that if he stood before -her in that moment she would turn from him with the same coldness, the -same anger. Yet she called for him despairingly, and when she put her -hand to her face she found that it was wet with tears. - -"Wolff!" she repeated. "Wolff!" - -The answering silence appalled her. She ran out into the passage to -Miles's door and knocked urgently. She did not know what she wanted of -him. She only knew that she could not bear to be alone. - -After what seemed a moment's hesitation the bolt was drawn, and Miles's -flushed face appeared in the aperture. He looked curiously relieved -when he saw who his visitor was. - -"What is it?" he demanded curtly. "I am busy packing." - -His tone gave her back her self-possession--or the appearance of -self-possession. - -"I only wanted to know if you were at home," she said. "I--am going out -for a little." - -The idea had come to her as she spoke. The confusion and noise of the -streets seemed to offer to her the sole antidote for the feverish -restlessness which had come over her. - -Miles nodded. - -"All right. Where--where is Wolff?" - -The light was behind him, and she could not see his face. Nevertheless -she felt that the expression in his eyes was tense, excited, that he was -studying her as though on her answer depended more than she guessed. - -"He has just gone out." - -"Thanks. How long will you be?" - -"I don't know. I am only going to get fresh air." - -"You might go towards the Kriegsministerium," Miles suggested -carelessly. "You might hear if there is any answer come from home. War -may be declared at any minute." - -Nora made no answer. His words had set her heart beating with pain, and -the pain increased as five minutes later she found herself being swept -along in the stream of the crowd. Everything was very quiet. It seemed -to her that not one of those with whom she was borne forward spoke. A -silence, ominous as the hush before the storm, weighed upon all, and -only the faces coming and going out of the circles of lamp-light -revealed the forces of passion which were awaiting the hour when they -should be set free. After the first moment, Nora ceased to notice all -this. She was winged with a panting, rapidly increasing anxiety which -obliterated everything--even to her own personality. She forgot Wolff, -she forgot herself and the conflict before her; she had become an atom -in one mighty community with whose existence her own was irrevocably -bound. She was no longer Wolff's wife, she was not even Nora Ingestre; -she was English, and, as though from far away a voice called her by some -all-powerful incantation, she forced her way forward. War! Her heart -exulted. War! Her excited imagination transported her to the centre of -another and a greater city; she felt closed in on every side by a people -whose blood was hers; she heard their voices, a magic stream of sympathy -poured from them to her; she heard the tramp of a thousand feet, the -clash of martial music, the roar of cheering, and in the brilliant light -bayonets flashed like a moving ribbon of silver. War! And if War--why -then, Victory, her country's final, grandest triumph! - -The dream vanished--nay, became a reality with another meaning, which -for a moment she could not comprehend. The crowd about her swayed, -hesitated, and eddied like a stream that has been checked by some -unexpected force. A low murmur rose like the first breath of the -hurricane. - -"What is it?" Nora asked. "What has happened?" - -She forgot where she was. She spoke in English, and the man next her -answered as though he understood, as though he had not even noticed that -she had addressed him in a foreign language. His young face was crimson -with exultation. - -"They say there is to be war!" he answered hoarsely. "They say there is -to be war!" - -And then she understood, then the reality of it bore down upon her with -the crushing weight of a horrible revelation. She tried to force a -passage for herself out of this crowd of enemies, but like a straw in -the swirl of a whirlpool she was swept back. And in that moment of -helplessness the hatred which had lain smouldering burst into full flame -in Nora's heart. Reckless and defiant, she fought against the seething -mass of humanity, and for her the struggle was a real thing. She pitted -herself against them all; alone amongst those thousands, she felt -herself indued with superhuman strength and courage. In her exultation -she could have cried aloud: "You fools, you poor fools, who dare to rise -against US--US, the elect of God among the nations!" - -It was a moment prescient of victory, unshadowed by a single doubt or -fear. A moment! Then the murmur burst into a great shout, the crowd -broke asunder, and to the rattle of drums, the shrill voice of the -pipes, a regiment of Infantry passed through, the thunder of their march -sounding like some mighty accompaniment to the high notes of the warlike -music. No confusion, no hurry, the officers at the head of their -companies, grave, resolute, filled with the consciousness of their great -calling; the men silent, their eyes fixed ahead as though the enemy lay -straight before them, awaiting the final struggle. What it was Nora -could not, in that moment of conflicting emotion, clearly analyse. -Something had fallen like an icy hand upon her courage. Those faces -that passed so close to her through the driving snow, column after -column, those healthy, weather-beaten faces so full of life and -strength, those broad-shouldered figures, erect, sturdy, swinging -forward as though one soul, one mind governed each and all alike--they -had made her afraid. She felt herself flung back by a huge pitiless -Juggernaut, before which her strength broke like a frail reed. She -turned away, sick and trembling, and as she did so her eyes fell on the -man who had retained his place at her side. - -"_Ach, du lieber Gott!_" he said, as though she had spoken to him. -"That was my regiment--the 115th. Perhaps I shall be called in--I also -have been a soldier." - -She looked at him and she understood. He, too, was _Soldat_, he too -could carry his gun and take his place with the best, he too had been -taught to bear his share worthily in the highest of all human -callings--one saw the pride of it in his face. And he was not alone. -He was typical of all, of a whole nation in arms. - -A sort of panic seized her. She turned and fled, thrusting her way -through the thinning crowd with the strength of despair. Only one -thought possessed her--to get away, to escape from a force which she had -learnt to fear. Panting, disordered, scarcely knowing what she did or -meant to do, she reached her home at last. Silence greeted her--silence -and an absolute darkness. She entered the drawing-room and turned on -the light. No one. Her husband's door, locked when she had gone out, -stood wide open. - -"Wolff!" she called. Her voice shook. She called again, and then her -brother's name, but the silence remained unbroken. She looked about -her, and her eyes chanced to rest an instant on her table; she saw that -a letter was lying on the blotting-case, which had not been there -before. She ran and picked it up. It was addressed to her in Miles's -handwriting. - -"Johann has just run in to look for Wolff," he scrawled. "He says war -is declared, and I'm off. There is a train leaving at eight, and I have -no time to lose. Sorry I can't say good-bye, old girl. I wish you -could come, but I suppose you can't. We'll come and fetch you though, -never fear!" - -A cry broke from Nora's trembling lips. He had gone--he had left her. -He had the right to go! And she was alone. She looked at the clock -ticking peacefully on the mantelpiece. She had no clear plan, but she -saw that it was half-past seven, and she reckoned that the Potsdamer -Bahnhof could not be more than twenty minutes away. If she could get a -cab there would be time. For what? She did not know. She was still -panic-stricken. The silence oppressed her with a greater horror than -the roaring of the crowd. The little room, with its cheap, ugly -ornaments, had become absolutely unfamiliar to her. She felt that it was -impossible she could ever have lived here, she felt that she had -wandered into a stranger's house, and that he might come back any minute -and find her. She ran to the door. No bond, no link of memory or past -happiness held her back. Not even the grey _Litewka_ hanging in the -hall, with its silent reminder, could change the headlong course of her -resolution. She saw it, she even stopped to look at it. It spoke to -her of a man she had known long ago, who had gone out of her life and -was no more than the memory of a dream. Because it had been a beautiful -dream she bent and kissed the empty sleeve, but she did not hesitate, -and her eyes were tearless. Stronger than that memory was the craving -for home and the fear of the stranger who would return and find her. -Thus she fled, and the door of the little flat closed with a melancholy -clang. It was empty now--when the stranger came there would be no one -there to trouble his peace. She felt neither remorse nor pity. All -that had been love for her husband had turned to bitterness. He had -come between her and those dear to her; he had insulted her and her -whole nation; he had trampled on her pride; he had deserted her, leaving -her to fight her battle alone, whilst he had followed his ambition -behind locked doors, which even she could not open. As she drove -rapidly through the streets he stood before her mental vision, not as -the lover or the husband, but as the man who had faced her on the -preceding night, stern, resolute, pitiless, sweeping her from his path -as he would have done a valueless toy. He had had no thought for her -sufferings, he had not even tried to comfort her, but had gone to his -room and--worked. And between this man of iron and routine and the -immense implacable force which had revealed itself to her in the crowd, -there was a resemblance, nay, an affinity of mind and purpose. Both -threatened her home, her people, and her life. She hated both. - -Twenty minutes later she stood in the crowded railway-station. Miles -was nowhere to be seen. There were only three minutes left before the -train started, and she had not money enough in her purse to take her -even to the coast. Tears of helpless wretchedness rushed to her eyes. -She must go--she must escape. She could never return to the silent, -dreary home, to the man who had become a hated stranger. - -On every side she heard the same words, "_Der Krieg! Der Krieg!_" They -terrified her, exasperated her. A little crowd of English people, who -were hurrying to the train, arrested her attention. - -"We should have left before," one of them said. "All the places will be -taken." - -In her despair she could have flung herself upon their mercy, but the -crowd jostled her on one side, and they were lost to sight. - -"_Alles einsteigen! Alles einsteigen!_" - -It was then she saw Miles; just for one instant she saw his face. It -stood out clearly in the blur--white, aghast, full of a terrified -recognition, and then, as she held out her hands, too thankful to think -what it all meant, it disappeared. - -She stood there, stupefied, rooted to the ground. He had deserted -her--he had been afraid of her. Why? What had happened? - -"_Alles einsteigen! Alles einsteigen!_" - -A sob broke from Nora's lips, and even in that moment, in which all hope -seemed lost, Arnold stood at her side. She clung to him recklessly, -like a child who has been pursued by the phantom of some hideous -nightmare. - -"Oh, take me with you, Robert!" she cried. "Don't leave me!" - -He looked down at her, then, without speaking, he lifted her into the -already moving train and sprang in after her. - -"There is nothing to be afraid of, little Nora," he said tenderly. "I -will bring you home safe and sound." - -The word "home" swept aside the last barricades of her self-control. -She flung herself into his arms weeping wildly and thankfully. - - * * * * * - -As the dawn broke, Nora stood at the prow of the vessel that was bearing -her homewards, and welcomed the white bulwarks of England as they rose -in majestic sovereignty out of the morning mists. Her eyes filled. She -could have stretched out her arms in her pride and joy, and the whole -world that she had left behind had vanished like some delirious dream. - -Miles away, in a quiet field on the outskirts of Berlin, two men faced -each other at ten paces' distance, and awaited the signal. It was -given, and two puffs of smoke issued from the outstretched weapons, and -curled slowly upwards into the frosty air. One of the men reeled and -fell, and lay quiet, with his face in the grass. - -They picked him up tenderly, and as they bore him thence his fading eyes -opened. - -"Do--not frighten her," he whispered. "Don't let her think that it is -anything--serious----" - -In the same instant, Nora had turned joyously to the man at her side. - -"Oh, thank God!" she cried. "Thank God, I am home at last!" - -Thus she returned to her own country and her own people, and a sea -rolled between her and all that had been. - - - - END OF BOOK II. - - - - - *BOOK III* - - - *THE BRIDGE* - - - *CHAPTER I* - - *HOME* - - -Mrs. Ingestre's bed had been drawn to the window, so that she could look -out on to the drear landscape of snow-covered fields and catch the few -rays of sunshine that here and there broke through the grey monotony of -sky. It was her last stand against the shadow which was soon to blot -out the whole world for ever from her eyes. There she had lain day -after day, and with her imagination brightened the bleak outlook with -the summer sunshine and the green trees which she was to see no more. -There she had written cheery, hopeful letters to her daughter and had -received cheery, hopeful letters in return. There mother and daughter, -clasped in each other's arms, acknowledged that the letters had been no -more than merciful lies, that the hope they had expressed had been -disguised despair. - -"How blind I must have been!" Mrs. Ingestre thought, as Nora, kneeling -at her bedside, poured out the story of her short married happiness. -"How blind not to have seen and understood!" - -"How heartless, how self-absorbed I was not to have known!" Nora -reproached herself, as she looked into the well-loved face on which -death had set his unmistakable seal. - -But it was not of death which they spoke. It was as though the elder -woman's life was already closed, as though she already stood afar off -and saw the world and life with other and clearer eyes. There was no -regret or fear in her attitude towards the unknown future, and that -calm, high confidence inspired Nora with a curious awe which hushed all -tears and passionate grief. She looked up to her mother as to a being -high above all earthly sorrow, yet linked to the world by an infinite, -all-comprehending pity. That pity was Nora's one refuge. The wild -delight which had borne her up through that long night journey had died -almost in the same hour that her father had clasped her in his arms and -killed the fatted calf in honour of the long-despaired-of prodigal. -Something like an icy disappointment had crept into her aching heart as -she had woken the first morning in her girlhood's room and realised that -this was her home, the home she had longed and prayed for, in which she -had chosen to pass her life. She had laughed scorn at herself and had -greeted the hideous church-spire which peered over the leafless trees -with a seeming new-born affection, and to her father and brother she -maintained that same seeming of delight and thankfulness. Before her -mother she had broken down for a moment, and the stormy sobs which had -shaken her had not wholly been the expression of a pent-up longing. She -had recovered herself almost at once, the grave, clear eyes of the dying -woman warning her, perhaps, that her secret was no longer entirely -hidden, and now she knelt and told her story as she would have told it -twenty-four hours before, with bitterness, resentment, and self-pity. - -"It was all a dreadful mistake, mother," she said. "I believed I loved -him enough to forget whom and what I was, but I could not. Every hour -showed me that I was a stranger, and would always remain a stranger. I -could not grow to love his people, and they hated me. You don't know -how they hated me. When trouble began and there came the first rumour of -war, they did not let a chance pass to hurt me. There were moments when -I felt I could bear it no longer, but I held out until that night. -Then--when I was in that crowd, and heard them cheering, and knew that -it was against me--against us--I knew that I could never go back, that -the strain of pretending or trying to pretend would send me mad. And -oh, I longed so for my home and for you all! It was just as though I -were in some frightful exile among enemies----" - -"So you escaped," Mrs. Ingestre interrupted gently. "It was natural, and -yet----" - -Nora looked into her mother's face, and wondered at the depth of pity -which the low voice had betrayed. - -"And yet----?" she asked. - -"I was thinking of Wolff," Mrs. Ingestre said. "He must have suffered -terribly." - -"Wolff!" The name burst almost angrily from Nora's lips. "How should -he have suffered? Men of his stamp do not suffer. They have no room in -their lives for such a feeling. Do you know--after that ball, when he -had practically thrown Miles out of the house, when he knew that I was -miserable, broken-hearted, he left me without a word, and worked with -his door locked between us. He cared nothing--nothing--only for his -ambition and himself. They are all like that, and their wives are just -their servants, who must be satisfied with whatever is left over for -them. _I_ could not stand it. It was like living with some piece of -machinery----" - -"Nora, he is your husband, and you loved him!" - -Nora sprang to her feet. The reproach had stung her, the more so -because at the bottom she knew that her indignation was feigned. The -panic and delirium of that night was over, and left her terribly calm, -terribly cold, terribly clear as to what she had done. - -"I did love him," she said--"or at least I thought I did. It is all the -same thing. I was carried off my feet by the strangeness and newness of -it all. How should I have known then what it meant to leave one's -country and one's people? Leave them! If that had been all! But to go -against them, to have to forget that one had ever loved them!" - -She was trying to rouse herself to those feelings which had been the -cause of all her past misery and whose crisis had brought about the -final desperate action. She was trying to rouse in her mother sympathy -for those feelings, and it goaded her to know that both efforts failed. -Mrs. Ingestre was gazing out of the window, and her pale face was still -grave and pitiful. - -"You see things with your own eyes, my Nora," she said, with a faint, -wistful smile. "I see them from a long way off, and with eyes that -suffering has cleared from all prejudice and hatred. And then--I was -very fond of Wolff." - -Nora turned away, her small hands clenched. - -"That--that means I have done wrong?" she said almost fiercely. - -"Have I blamed you?" - -"No, but----" - -"I can have pity for both, Nora. I can see that you had much to -bear--perhaps more than was tolerable for one so young and headstrong. -But I can see Wolff's side too. I can see him come home that night and -find you gone----" - -She stopped as though her imagination had led her before a sorrow for -which she found no words, and Nora too was silent. Profoundly -embittered and disappointed, she stood looking at the still beautiful -face of the woman in whose sympathy she had had implicit trust. Was, -then, everything to fail her, even in her home, the home which she had -seen in her exile's dreams? Was she to stand alone? Was there no one -who would understand her and all that she had endured? - -"When Miles believed that war had broken out he would not stay an hour -longer," she said at last, and her voice had a defiant note. "He could -not bear to be away from his own country. Why should I, because I am a -woman, feel less than he?" - -"Because you are a woman, and because you feel more, the greater -sacrifice is asked of you," was the quiet answer. "In this life there -is always some one who must bring the sacrifice, and it is always the -one who feels deepest and loves most. That is why it is ordained that -women should suffer for their children, and often for their husbands. -It seems at first sight unjust. It is really the greatest compliment -which God and Nature can pay us." - -"And I am unworthy of that compliment?" Nora demanded hotly. - -"You will go back, Nora." - -"To my husband? Never." For the first time she spoke with real -conviction, with an almost despairing conviction, "That is impossible. -You do not know how impossible. Even if I would, Wolff would not take -me back. He said so himself. I had to choose once and for all, and I -have chosen. And, besides, there are the others--the people I know; -stiff, straitlaced people who would never understand and never forgive." - -"Nevertheless, when the war is over you will go back," Mrs. Ingestre -persisted steadily. "You will go back and bravely take up the work -which lies before you--the work of reconciliation. You will fight the -unhappy influence of the narrow-hearted fools and braggarts who have -helped to bring catastrophe in your life and upon whole nations. You -will retain your independence, your strength, your character; but in -opening your heart to the goodness and strength in others you will bind -them to you as no weak surrender could ever have done; you will win a -greater, nobler victory than any victory won with the blood of men; you -will build a bridge between Wolff's heart and yours; you will help build -the bridge between the country of your birth and the country of your -adoption!" - -Her voice rang triumphant, prophetic. For one brief moment Mrs. -Ingestre, dying though she was, called back her lost youth and rose to -the heights of youth's hope and faith. - -Nora took a deep breath. - -"What can I do--a woman against thousands?" she demanded. - -"Your best--your duty." - -"I have tried, and I have failed. I have no power to build the -bridge----" - -Her mother's eyes rested on her face, and in their depths there was a -serene confidence. - -"God has given you the power," she said gently. "God has given you an -instrument which cannot fail you. My Nora"--her voice failed her an -instant--"a little child shall lead them"--she finished from afar off. - -Nora covered her face with her hands. - -"It is too late," she said huskily. "Not even that can help me now." - -Her mother made no answer. She lay still with closed eyes, and a -peaceful smile smoothed away the lines of pain from the sweet mouth. -She was so quiet and the smile was so unchanging, so full of an almost -unearthly wisdom, that every protest died in Nora's heart. She crept -nearer to the bedside, awe-struck and afraid, as though already the -curtain had fallen which was to divide them in the future life. - -"Mother!" she whispered faintly. - -The serene eyes opened, the smile became infinitely tender. - -"My little girl--leave me now. I am so tired, so weary. I shall be -glad to sleep. Remember what I said. Kiss me." - -Nora obeyed. For one instant she lay like a child in the feeble arms, -overwhelmed by a frightful forewarning of a pain she was yet to know in -all its intensity. - -"Good night, my darling," Mrs. Ingestre whispered. - -Nora crept softly away. She thought that her mother had spoken from -amidst her dreams and had forgotten that it was still daylight. Yet the -tender farewell haunted her as she went downstairs, and it haunted her -long afterwards, when the speaker's face was obscured in the shadows of -memory. - -She found her father in the old familiar dining-room, waiting for her. -The months had made his shoulders more stooping, his manner feebler, -more helpless. He looked so really wretched that she forgot her own -grief and put her arms about him and kissed him. - -"What is she doing?" he whispered, as though they stood in the invalid's -room. "Is she asleep?" - -Nora nodded. - -"Yes; I think so. Our talking made her very tired." - -A groan escaped from the man's quivering lips. - -"The doctor said we must be prepared any moment for the worst," he said. -"It is awful--I can scarcely bring myself to believe that it is God's -will. How can I live without her?" - -"We must help each other. And we must make the last days happy." - -"Yes, yes; we must try," he agreed, beginning to pace restlessly -backwards and forwards. "We must make her happy. Nora----" He stopped -and looked piteously at her over his spectacles. "Nora, you think she -was happy?" - -"Happy?" she echoed. Somehow, the thought of her mother's happiness had -scarcely ever occurred to her. - -"I mean--I have been thinking, since I knew that we were to lose her, -that she would have been happier in another sort of life--that I did not -think enough about her: I was always so busy with the poor and the -parish. It is perhaps foolish of me. A man of sensitive conscience is -liable to unreasonable remorse. I should be glad--I should be easier in -my mind if you gave me your opinion." - -"Mother never complained," Nora said slowly. - -He nodded, as though her words had confirmed his protests against his -own self-reproach. - -"No; she never complained," he said, with a sigh of satisfaction. For a -moment he was silent, then he turned to her again. "I cannot tell you -how glad I am that you are here," he went on. "Weeks ago, when your -mother became so ill, I wanted to send for you both--you and Miles--but -she would not let me. Miles worried her, and she did not want your first -months of married life overshadowed. Those were her very words. It -seems almost providential that this war should have brought you home in -time." - -"What news is there?" she asked quickly. "Is it really declared at -last?" - -"Surely, surely!" her father said. "The rumour was only a little in -advance. It must come to war; there is no possible alternative. We -have gone too far to draw back. But there is the squire, and Miles with -him. Probably they are bringing the news." - -He went to the French window and threw it open, so that the new-comers -could come in straight from the garden. Nora hung back, though her -pulses were beating with excitement. The news that the declaration had -been a false alarm, picked up with a reckless haste by Miles--perhaps -for his own reasons--had not shaken her from her purpose. Arnold had -assured her that it was only a question of hours before the rumour -became truth, and she had believed him. But there had been a strange -delay, a strange hush; there had been a talk of "negotiations," and it -had made her afraid. She did not know of what she was afraid--whether -it was of the war or of peace. She only knew that the uncertainty was -unbearable. As she saw the squire, she knew that, one way or the other, -the die was cast. Fury and indignation were written on every feature of -the big, clean-shaven face; the small eyes, sunken under the bushy -brows, glistened like two dangerous points of fire; the lips were -compressed till they were almost colourless. - -For a moment he stood in the narrow doorway, his huge shoulders -spreading from side to side, glaring into the room as though he sought -his deadliest enemy. Then, as he saw the unspoken question with which -the occupants greeted him, he nodded and, entering, flung his -riding-crop on to the table with a loud, ringing curse. - -The Rev. John glanced anxiously at the ceiling, as though he thought his -wife might have heard, and the squire, catching the movement, hastened -to apologise. - -"'Pon my word, I didn't mean to make such an infernal row," he said. -"If I hadn't done something of the sort I should have had a fit. It's -enough to send a man down into his grave with disgust. It's enough to -make a man shake the dust off his boots and--and----" He stopped, -stuttering with passion, and the Rev. John turned involuntarily to -Miles, who had followed the squire into the room and was standing with -his hands in his pockets, gazing sulkily at the floor. - -"We've thrown up the sponge," he said, as though he knew he had been -appealed to. "We've eaten humble pie, and the war's off. That's all." - -"Yes, that's all!" the squire burst out. "An English Fashoda--that's -all! We're the laughing-stock of Europe with our threats and demands, -and then this d----d surrender. They call it a compromise. It's not -what I call it. We've just licked their dirty boots--and I'd like to -see every man-jack of the Government hanged and quartered!" - -He was almost unintelligible in his fury, and the Rev. John made a mild -gesture of protest. - -"As a man of peace, I must rejoice," he said. - -"As an Englishman, I curse!" the squire retorted, shaking his fist in -the air. "It was a cowardly thing to do. We were ready and waiting for -war. Every man of us had put his best foot forward. All my young -fellows were learning to shoot and ride--I spent a small fortune on 'em; -and now, what's the good? Their time and my money thrown clean away, -and the humiliation of it all into the bargain! And to think we might -have thrashed those confounded ruffians and settled them once and for -all!" - -He paced up and down, grinding his teeth, and Nora's eyes followed him -with a critical wonder. By a swift turn of the imagination, she was -again in that huge crowd, watching company after company of trained men -as they tramped past in stern, resolute silence. Was it possible that -this great blundering squire could talk of thrashing that mighty force -with men who were learning to shoot and ride? Was it possible that she -had ever thought as he thought? - -He stopped in front of her, with his legs apart, and fixed her with a -fierce, choleric stare. - -"Come now, Miss Nora," he said, "you have been out there and know the -blackguards. You must have hated 'em pretty well to have thrown up -everything and come home?" - -Something like an electric shock passed through Nora's body. - -"I--hate them?" she stammered. - -"Yes; Miles has been telling me the whole story. No offence meant, of -course; but between such old friends as you and I, it was a d----d -mistake to have married that foreign fellow. I always said so, didn't -I, Parson?" - -The Rev. John sighed resignedly. - -"I said so myself," he answered; "but they were so determined that I -could do nothing. It was a terrible blow to me." - -"It made me sick when I was there," Miles interposed viciously, "to -think that I had to be civil to those boors because my sister had -married one of them. I tell you, I blessed the war. It gave one the -chance to pay back." - -"You! What could _you_ have done?" - -The question came from Nora, and her voice sounded curiously unsteady. - -Miles nodded. - -"I could have done a lot more than you think, my dear sister," he said -pointedly. "I could have put more than one spoke in your fine baron's -wheel if I had chosen. And glad I should have been to have done -it--swaggering bully that he was!" - -"Miles--you forget--you are speaking of my husband!" - -She was leaning a little forward. Her cheeks were hot and her eyes -alight with a passion which should have warned him. But Miles merely -laughed. - -"Your husband? My dear girl, I expect he has divorced you by now as a -runaway and I don't know what else besides. They are pretty summary -with that sort of thing in the Fatherland. Imagine"--he turned to the -squire--"they treat their women-folk like underpaid servants. The fine -gentlemen go about in their many-coloured coats, and the wives can patch -together what they can on nothing a year. Poor wretches!" - -"They don't mind," Nora put in sharply. - -"It wouldn't make much difference if they did. And you needn't take up -the cudgels like that! You grumbled enough that time Wolff said you -couldn't have a new dress for the Hulsons' ball!" - -"He gave it me," she retorted, in the same tone of repressed irritation. - -"Yes; after you had worried enough. But I doubt very much if you would -have got it if I hadn't been there to back you up. And the insolence of -those fellows! He as good as called Arnold and me a pack of cowards -because we wouldn't have anything to do with their idiotic duelling. As -though we didn't know what a farce it all was! Whew! I am glad we are -both well out of it, and I wish to goodness we could have given them a -lesson they would not have forgotten in a hurry." - -"A bully is always a coward," the Rev. John said sententiously. "I have -always heard those Prussians were terrible bullies." - -"I should think they are!" Miles agreed. "To hear my dear -brother-in-law talk, one would have supposed that I was a raw recruit, -or some inferior beast. I held my tongue for Nora's sake, but I tell -you, there were moments----" He clenched his fist significantly, and -Nora broke into a short angry laugh. "You were always a model of -diplomacy, Miles," she said. Her tone was contemptuous, but her brother -chose to take her words literally, and the other two were too absorbed -to notice her. - -"And that," said the squire furiously, "is the people we have kow-towed -to--a lot of swaggering braggarts who don't know what to do with -themselves for conceit. This comes of all our rubbishy peace-loving -notions! The world only gives us credit for being afraid!" - -He went on explosively tirading, but Nora no longer listened. She was -thinking of her mother's words and wondering if these then were the -narrow-hearted fools and braggarts against whom she was to struggle. -And in that moment the struggle began in her own heart. She went to the -window and tried to shut her ears against all that was going on about -her. She tried to understand herself and the strange, conflicting -emotions which had come to life in the last few minutes. Everything that -the squire and her brother had said goaded her to a hot retort. She -felt herself quivering with indignation--because they were abusing a -people she hated, the man whom she had deserted because she no longer -loved him! She _wanted_ to ratify every word they said; she told -herself that she had the right to do so, that it was all true; and yet -her whole spirit rose in arms against their attack. What was worse, she -felt a vague antipathy for these three men. She thought the squire -coarse and arrogant; his entry and his greeting to her had been rough -and without the respect to which she was accustomed. And why could -Miles do nothing without his hands in his pockets? Why, when he sat -down, had he to be either nursing his leg or "slouching"? Why was her -father so weak and fussy-looking? And then, to her horror, Wolff stood -before her eyes. Was it a feeling of pride which crept over her, pride -in his upright bearing and dignity? _He_ had never been rough or rude -to her. His courtesy to her and all women had been unvarying. She turned -quickly away, trying to stop her own thoughts. The squire was standing -in his favourite attitude, with his legs wide apart, still tirading -impartially against the German people and the English Government, who -refused to wipe them off the face of the earth. Miles had collapsed -into the most comfortable arm-chair, his head thrown back, his hands -plunged deep in his pockets. The Rev. John stood between them, a -picture of helpless dejection. It seemed to Nora that they had each -taken up the attitude in which she hated them most. Hated! It was the -word her thoughts had uttered. It could not be recalled. If she hated -them--why, then, she had lost everything: her husband, her people, her -own nationality! Why, then, she was nothing, she belonged to no one, no -link of love bound her to any living being. Only her mother was -left--her mother and that one other being the knowledge of whose -existence had come too late to save her. - -In the same moment that her full misery broke upon Nora some one tapped -at the door and, without awaiting an answer, a pale, terrified-looking -servant rushed in. - -"If you please, sir," she stammered, "will you come at once? The -mistress is--asleep--and we cannot wake her----" - -The Rev. John uttered a smothered cry, and without a word to his guest -hurried from the room. Miles followed him. But Nora remained quietly -by the window and took no notice of the squire as, with an awkwardly -expressed hope that "it would be all right," he left her to herself. - -She knew what had happened. Her mother had bidden her good night, and -night had come. She was alone--in the whole world alone and friendless. - - - - - *CHAPTER II* - - *EXILED* - - -There is only one sorrow in life which is really great, and that is the -loss of those we love. The other sorrows seem great so long as we have -been spared the hardest blow which life can deal us, and then we -understand that, after all, they were very petty and that if we had -chosen we could have borne them patiently, even cheerfully. Loss of -health, loss of wealth, loss of position--they are all bad in their way, -and as a rule we make the worst we can of them; but not till we have to -bear them _alone_, without the support of some familiar, loving hand, -have we the right to cry out that we can endure no more. - -And for the first time in her life Nora knew loneliness--not the -loneliness which she had felt in her husband's home and amongst her -husband's people, for that had been temporary, a state which could, if -necessary, be overcome by a return to those whom she had left of her own -free-will and whose love and sympathy she could still claim. _This_ -loneliness was final, unbridgeable. Death had raised up a wall between -her and all return. The one being whose hand could have comforted her, -in whose arms she could have found peace and rest, had passed beyond -recall, and it was in vain that, in a childish agony of grief, she flung -herself down by her mother's sofa and pleaded with the dead not to leave -her comfortless. There was no answer. The patient, noble woman who had -lain there day after day without complaint, watching the slow, painful -fulfilment of her destiny, had gone and would come no more. She had -gained her freedom. Even in her own stormy sorrow Nora realised so -much--that her mother was free and that her life had been a long, bitter -imprisonment, to which it would have been cruel to recall her. She had -gone willingly, passing out of a sphere in which she had always been an -exile, and taking with her the last--perhaps the only link which had -ever bound Nora to her home. In those hours when Nora had hated the -stuffy little flat and had longed for the scent of the home flowers, it -had always been of her mother's garden which she had thought; when she -had seen the picture of the Vicarage rise before her eyes it had always -been her mother's room which had stood out clearest, which had tempted -her by the tenderest recollections. And now that her mother had gone, -that home had ceased to be her home. The flowers were dead in the -garden, the rooms empty of the old haunting charm, the glamour which her -exile's memory had cast about her old life became dull and faded. She -saw now an ugly red-brick building, with dreary, silent rooms, and -people with whom she had never been in sympathy save in her imagination. -This last was the bitterest disappointment of all. In her anger against -Wolff she had expected and believed so much of these "home people," and -they had, after all, failed her. - -As she sat alone in the sad, empty room, she felt that those five days -in England had taken from her not only the dearest hope but the last -illusion. Her mother had said, "You do not belong here," and it was -true. She was an exile in this narrow little world, and between her -father and herself there was an insurmountable barrier of taste and -thought. It had always been there, just as, like her mother, she had -always been an exile, but in her girlhood's days it had been less -pronounced, less clearly defined. Now that she had had experience in -another world, she could no longer bear the trammels of her father's -conventional prejudices. She had hated and despised her mode of life at -Wolff's side; she began to see, though dimly, that it had had at least -its great moments, that it was at least inspired by a great idea worthy -of the sacrifices it demanded. Here there was no sacrifice and no -idea--only vegetation, and her companion was not even a useful machine. -He was a weak muddler, and his world was a little village which muddled -along in a muddle-loving country and believed great things of itself and -its institutions. Just as Nora had found the squire ridiculous with his -two-week soldiers, so her father irritated her with his mingled piety, -pusillanimity, and timid self-satisfaction. Not even their common grief -had brought them together. They had stood wordless by their dead, and -when the Rev. John had seemed about to speak, she had fled from him, -dreading that his words might destroy the impression which the serene -sleeper had made upon her mind. Since then they had hardly spoken, and -Miles had wandered between them like a sullen, dissatisfied ghost. -Somehow, he felt that his influence over Nora was at an end, that from -the moment her feet had touched her native soil she had turned from him -and his explanations with something like repugnance. He did not trouble -to seek the reason--indeed, she could have given him none; but the -shadow between them threw Nora back into even deeper loneliness. - -And the wonder which had come into her life--the miracle which had been -revealed to her in her mother's eyes? She only knew that its revelation -had come too late. Though all that was best and noblest in her stirred -as if beneath some divine touch, she felt none of the exultation, none -of the sanctified happiness which might have been hers. The gift which -was to come to her was like a golden link in a broken chain, like a -jewel without setting--beautiful but imperfect. She was indeed an exile -and bore the exile's curse. - -Thus, when the first tempest of grief had passed she faced the future -with the first fear turned to conviction. She had lost everything, even -to her nationality. Those few months had been sufficient to imbue her, -without her knowledge, with ideas and principles which made her a -stranger in her own land. She could no longer admire without -reservation; at every turn she was forced to compare and criticise with -the same sharpness as she had compared and criticised in her German -home, and a word against the people to whom she still theoretically -belonged was sufficient to arouse the same indignation and resentment. -Poor Nora! It was a bitter self-revelation which she had to face, and -the only being who could have helped her in this conflict between the -dual affections had been laid only a few hours before in the dreary -churchyard whose walls she could distinguish through the leafless trees. -The sight of those walls and the red spire of the church awakened her -grief to its first intensity. She sprang up from her place by the empty -sofa and hurried out of the room and out of the house. On her way she -passed her father's room. The door stood open, and she saw him seated -by the table, with his face buried in his hands. She knew that he was -crying, but she shrank swiftly away, with the horrible conviction that -she despised him. She wondered if Wolff had cried when he had returned -and found that she had left him. She felt sure that he had gone on -working, and the picture which rose before her fancy of a strong, -broad-shouldered man bent over his maps and plans in unswervable -devotion caused her a strange sensation of relief. - -It was already late afternoon as she left the village behind her. She -had no definite goal save the one to be alone, and beyond the range of -prying, curious eyes, and almost unconsciously she chose the path over -the fields where, months before, she had gone to meet Robert Arnold. -Then it had been late summer, and it was now winter, but so vividly did -the scene recur to her that when a tall, well-known figure strode out of -the mists towards her, she could have believed that all the preceding -months, with their condensed history of bewildering change, had been no -more than an hallucination and that she was once more Nora Ingestre, -setting out to learn the mysteries of her own heart. But the next -instant her hand was taken, and she was looking into a familiar face -which was yet so altered that she would have known alone from its lines -of care and grief that time had moved on, bringing with him his -inevitable burden. - -"Robert!" she cried. She saw his look of pain, and wondered at it. She -did not know that he, too, had drawn the same comparison between then -and now, and had been shocked by the change in the face which so short a -time ago had been that of a girl--nay, almost of a child. - -"Poor little Nora!" he said under his breath. "Poor little Nora!" - -She lifted her hand as though to stop all words of commiseration, and he -turned quietly and walked at her side. He understood that he was -helpless, that he could do nothing to comfort her in her grief, and yet -he felt, too, that she was glad of his presence and silent sympathy. - -All at once she herself broke the silence, and her voice, save that it -was intensely weary, sounded untroubled and calm. - -"I did not know you were here," she said. "I thought you were with your -regiment." - -"I have my Christmas leave," he answered. "They have no special need of -me." - -There was a bitterness in his tone and words which she understood. She -looked at him, and saw that he was frowning as though at some painful -reflection. - -"There will be no fighting?" she asked. - -"No, none. We have given in. I suppose"--he controlled his voice with -an effort--"I suppose we had to." - -"Had to?" she echoed. - -"We were not ready," he said between his teeth. "Nothing was ready. I -could never have believed it was possible had I not seen it with my own -eyes. If there had been a war, it would have been a repetition of 1870, -with London for a Sedan, and they knew it. No horses, reduced regiments, -a crowd of half-trained men pitted against a nation which has been ready -for war any day in the last years! The thing was obvious." - -"You were so sure," she said dully. "Everybody was so sure." - -"No one knew until the test came," he answered. "The outside of things -was well enough, and there were plenty of able statesmen and generals to -tell us that we had never been better prepared. We like listening to -that sort of talk, and we like believing it. A belief like that is so -comforting. It frees us from all sacrifice--all duty. 'When the call -comes, we shall answer to it,' is our patriotic motto. 'An Englishman -is worth three foreigners.' And then, when the call comes, a handful of -half-trained youths who cannot stand a day's march, who can scarcely -ride, scarcely shoot, is all that we have to show for our boasting." He -clenched his fist with a movement of angry despair. "It's all wrong, -Nora, all wrong! We have grown too easy-going, too fond of our smooth -comfort. Even if we knew that our national existence were threatened, -we should not rouse ourselves. We should vote for a few more -Dreadnoughts and make a great outcry and bang the Party drum with talk. -We think, because we have the money, that things can't go far wrong--we -have won before, so we think there is a kind of lucky star to save us, -however little we have deserved success. We can't see that the world -has changed, that we have to face a race that has all our virtues in -their youth and strength--all our tenacity, all our bulldog purpose, all -our old stoicism; and we--God knows! We never forget our grand -heritage; we never forget our forefathers nor the glory they won for us. -But we forget to honour them with our own worthiness. How will it all -end?" - -"Whether it be in peace or in war, surely only the fittest can win," she -said thoughtfully. "It will not be the richest, or the best-armed -nation, but the best, the worthiest. Pray God we may prove ourselves to -be that nation!" - -"Pray God!" he echoed thoughtfully. - -For a minute they walked on in the gathering mist without speaking. -Both were plunged in sad reflection, but in Nora's heart there had -dawned a new relief, a new peace. Arnold had spoken without arrogance, -with a proud humility, with a respect and admiration for those whom he -had hitherto despised. She did not know what had brought about the -change, but it comforted her, it brought her nearer to him; in some -strange way it revived all her old love for England and her people. The -squire's swaggering, her brother's calumnies had maddened her. She -discovered dignity and candour in Arnold's words, and her aching heart -filled with gratitude. - -Suddenly he stopped short and faced her. She saw then that a new -thought had arisen in his mind. - -"Nora, have you heard from your husband?" he demanded. - -She shook her head and went on walking, quickly, almost nervously. - -"No." - -"Are you going to return to him--soon?" - -"You know it is impossible that I should ever return," she answered. -"In his eyes, at least, I have no excuse for what I did--none. He would -never forgive me." - -"Not if he loved you?" - -She shrugged her shoulders. - -"Even if he did--even if he forgave me, I could not return. I left him -because I had ceased to love him, because the distance that separated us -was too great. I did not understand his way of life, nor he mine. He -said things I shall never forgive." - -"Not even if you loved him?" - -"I do not love him!" she returned passionately. "He forfeited my love. -He did not care enough to fight for it. How should I grow to love him -again?" - -Arnold drove his stick into the soft turf. His face was white and -deeply troubled. - -"I feel as though I had done you a great wrong, Nora," he said. "I did -you a wrong already in the beginning when I tried to force my love upon -your inexperience--when I tried to bind you to me without having really -won you. I failed, and I was justly punished. But I wronged you still -more when I sought you out and offered you my friendship. I deceived -you and I deceived myself. It was not friendship, and people were right -to give it another name and to look askance at my part in your life. -Nora, it is my one excuse that I did not know. I believed absolutely in -my own loyalty, until that night of the ball. Then for the first time I -knew that I was dangerous, and whether I had been recalled or not, I -should have gone away. But Fate was too strong for me. If I had really -been your friend, I should not have taken you with me that night. It -was a mad thing to have done. But everything happened so quickly that I -lost my self-control, my reason. Now I feel as though I had put an -insurmountable barrier between you and your husband and had ruined your -happiness--perhaps your life." - -She had listened to him in unbroken silence, her brows puckered into -painful, ominous lines. - -"You say you are not my friend?" she said. "What are you, then?" - -"One who loves you," he answered, "and one who has never really ceased -to long for you as his own." - -"And you talked of friendship!" she cried. - -"God forgive me. Nora, a man does not know his own heart until the -moment comes when he is put to the test as I was. I believed it -possible that I could care for you in that way. I should have known -better." - -"I also should have known better," she said. - -"No; you were so young. You could not have known what a man is capable -and incapable of performing. The blame is all mine. And if I have -helped to bring sorrow into your life, my punishment will be more than I -can bear." - -So much genuine grief and remorse revealed itself in his shaken voice -that she laid her hand pityingly on his arm. - -"Don't talk as though it were alone your fault," she said. "It was mine -as well. If I could not have judged your heart, I could have judged my -own." - -"Nora!" he exclaimed, horror-stricken. - -"I did not love you," she went on, almost to herself, "and I do not love -you. I do not believe that I love any one on earth; but I always knew -that I might grow to love you. And--perhaps I have something of my -father in me--I should not have run so great a risk." - -"Nora!" he repeated, and beneath the horror there rang a painful joy. - -She stopped and looked him sternly in the face. - -"Do not misunderstand me, Robert. I did not love you. Then I loved my -husband, and I do not believe you really came between us. There were -other things, and you were only the instrument that helped me to escape -from a life that was driving me mad. But, because of all that had been -between us and that which might so easily have been, I ought never to -have allowed you a place in my life. It was wrong, and the punishment -is just this--that now our friendship is an impossibility." - -He walked on as though he could not bear to listen to her. - -"I know, I know!" he said, impatient with pain. "I know it is true. I -feel no friendship for you--only an immense love which has not learnt to -be selfless. But it will come; it shall come. I swear it. And when it -comes--will you never be able to trust me?" - -"I don't know," she said listlessly. - -"Do not punish me because I have been honest and confessed what I might -have kept hidden." - -"I should have known sooner or later," she answered. - -They had taken the village path, and already the spire of the church -rising above the clustering houses warned them that their moments -together were numbered. As though by mutual consent, they stopped and -stood silent, avoiding each other's eyes. - -"I want you to know one thing," he said at last. "Whatever happens, I -shall love you all my life, and that if you need me I shall prove worthy -of your trust. Promise me you will turn to me as you would to a friend. -Don't take that hope from me!" - -"How can I take hope from any one?" she answered; "I who have no -hope----" - -She broke off, and he took her hand and forced her to look at him. - -"Oh, Nora!" he cried despairingly. "You are so young, and you speak as -though your heart were broken!" - -"I do not know whether it is broken-hearted to feel nothing," she said. -"If so, then I am broken-hearted." - -"Nora, I believe you love your husband in spite of all you say. You -must go back to him. Where there is love there must be forgiveness. -You will forgive each other. You will put aside misunderstandings and -foolish prejudices, and start afresh." - -He spoke with a painful enthusiasm like that of a man who is willing to -trample on his own happiness; but Nora shook her head. - -"No one understands how impossible it is," she said. "If there were -nothing else to separate us, there would be the bitterness and hatred -between our countries. It sounds terrible--absurd; but that is the -truth. It was that hatred which poisoned our life together, and if I -could go back it would poison our whole future. Oh----" she made a -little passionate gesture of protest. "Why are we so mean and petty? -Why cannot we watch the rise of another nation without hatred and -jealousy? Why cannot we be generous and watch with sympathy and hope -her progress along the path which we have trodden? Why cannot we go -forward shoulder to shoulder with her, learning and teaching, fearing no -one? If we are worthy of our great place in the world, we shall keep -it, no matter how strong others may grow; if we are unworthy, nothing -will save us, from downfall--not all our ships and wealth. It seems so -obvious, and yet----" Her momentary outburst died down to the old -listlessness. "I talk like that because I have suffered it so in my -life," she said; "but it is all talk. At the bottom, the antagonism is -still there. Nothing will ever bridge it over." She held out her hand -with a wan smile. "Good-bye, Robert." - -"Good-bye; and God bless you, dear!" - -He watched her move slowly homewards. He suffered intensely because he -knew that her pain was greater than his. He knew that the antagonism -she had spoken of surrounded her whole life, and that she stood alone, -without husband, without people, and without country. - - - - - *CHAPTER III* - - *REVELATION* - - -Miles Ingestre met his sister in the hall, and without a word drew her -into the sitting-room and closed the door. His action had been so -sudden, his grip upon her arm so fierce, that she stood looking at him, -too startled to protest. In the half-darkness she could only see that -he was very pale and that he vainly strove to control the nervous -twitching of his lips. - -"What is it?" she asked. "Has anything happened?" - -"Some one has come," he said breathlessly. - -She did not answer. A black veil had fallen before her eyes, and an -emotion to which she could give no name, but which was so powerful that -she stretched out a groping hand for support, clutched at her throat and -stifled her. She did not ask who had come. She knew by the very change -in herself, by the violent shock which seemed to waken her stunned -senses to a renewed and terrible capacity for suffering. - -"Wolff--my husband!" she stammered. "Where is he?" - -"It is not Wolff," Miles retorted rapidly. "It is that Hildegarde von -Arnim. She arrived half an hour ago, and says she must see you at once. -She won't speak to either of us." - -"Hildegarde? You must be dreaming! She is too ill to move." - -"She looks ill, but she can move all right. At any rate, she seems to -have come a long way to find you." - -"I must go to her," Nora said dully. "Where is she? Why don't you let -me pass?" - -"Look here, Nora." He took her hand again, and his tone became half -cajoling, half threatening. "I can guess what she has come about. She -wants to get you back and put you against me--against us all. She will -tell you all sorts of lies. But you won't believe her, and you'll stick -to us this time? Swear, Nora!" - -She tried to shake herself free. - -"Why should I swear? You know I shan't go back--I couldn't; and she -would be the last person to want it. She has come about something else; -perhaps about the----" She stopped with a quick breath of pain. "Let -me go, Miles! - -"All right. But you'll stand by me, Nora? And you won't believe her -lies?" - -"I don't know what you mean. What are you afraid of?" - -"Nothing; only I know they'll do anything to--to put us in the wrong. -They hate us like the devil. I--I wanted to warn you, that's all." - -Nora did not understand him. His manner, over-excited as it was, -frightened her even more than this strangest of all strange visits. -What miracle had brought the feeble invalid over the sea to seek -her--what miracle or what catastrophe? And as she entered the -drawing-room and saw the beautiful, exhausted face and stern, unsmiling -eyes which had once been all love and tenderness for her, the fear grew -to something definite, so that she stopped short, hesitating, -overwhelmed by that and by a sudden shame. - -But of shame Hildegarde Arnim saw no sign. She saw defiance in that -waiting attitude, and not even the pathos of the black dress and pale, -sad face could touch her. She rose, but gave no sign of greeting. - -"My mother sent me to you," she said. "I am to tell you that your--that -Wolff is dying." - -She seemed to take a cruel delight in the change which came over the -other's face. - -"Dying," she repeated deliberately. "Dying." - -Nora clasped her hands in an agonised movement of appeal. - -"I know--I have heard you. For pity's sake, tell me----" - -"You need not be afraid. I shall tell you everything, to the last -detail." Hildegarde seated herself again. Her clenched hand rested on -the table and her eyes fixed themselves on her companion with a -detestation almost violent in its intensity. "It is over a year since -you became engaged to my cousin," she went on. "It is not nine months -since you became his wife. It is not a long time, but it was long -enough for you to ruin the best, the noblest man whom I at least have -ever met. You see, I declare openly what you no doubt know and have -triumphed over. I love Wolff, and I have loved him all my life. If he -had made me his wife, I should have deemed myself unworthy of so much -happiness, and it would have been a joy to sacrifice myself for him. No -doubt you find such an idea poor and contemptible; the idea of sacrifice -for those one loves is perhaps out of fashion in your country. But, be -that as it may, it was an idea which served you well at the time. -Because I loved him, and because his happiness was really dearer to me -than anything else on earth, I gave him up to you----" - -"You gave him up to _me_!" Nora echoed blankly. - -"On the same day that he asked you to be his wife I had given him his -freedom from a bond which, though it had never been openly acknowledged, -was still binding on him. You did not know that?" - -Nora sank down in the chair by which she had been standing. Her -strength had left her; she looked broken, and there was something -intensely piteous in the clasped hands upon her lap. - -"How should I have known?" she asked almost inaudibly. - -"You might have known," Hildegarde retorted. "You knew Wolff. He was a -man of honour. He would never have yielded even to his love for you -until he knew himself absolutely free." - -There was a cutting significance in her tone which could not be -mistaken. Nora lifted her head and met the scornful eyes with -despairing resolution. - -"You say that against me, because I was not free," she said. "But you -do not know everything; you have no right to judge. My heart was -free--my heart belonged to Wolff and Wolff only." - -"You were bound to another man." - -"By a foolish letter written in a moment of despair. You have said that -I despise all sacrifice. But that letter was my sacrifice to you, -Hildegarde." - -"You must be mad," was the contemptuous answer. - -"You have not spared me," Nora went on recklessly. "I shall not spare -you. That night when you were delirious I learnt of your whole love for -Wolff and all that you suffered. I also loved him--I also suffered, and -I distrusted my own strength. I tried to raise a barrier between myself -and him, so--so that we could never come together. I thought if I could -say to him 'I belong to another,' that I should save you from -heart-break and myself from a mean, ungrateful act. But the barrier was -not high enough or strong enough to shield me from my own weakness. -Believe me or not, as you will--that is the truth. In all my life I -have loved only one man--my husband." - -There was a moment's silence. Hildegarde sat stiff and upright, her -lips firmly compressed, her expression unchanged. But her voice -betrayed the rising of a new emotion. - -"I must believe what you have told me," she said. "In that case, what -you did was pardonable--even generous. But that is not all. That was -not what made me hate you. I hate you because you have ruined Wolff's -life. For the first month or two you made him happy because you were -happy yourself. Then I suppose you tired of it all--of the poverty and -the restrictions and the sacrifices. It did not satisfy your grand -English tastes to go poorly dressed and live in small, ill-furnished -flats. It was beneath your dignity to see to your husband's dinner; it -did not suit you to sit at home alone and wait for him, much less to -make his friends your friends and join in their life. Though they were -honourable, good people, who brought their sacrifices uncomplainingly, -they were beneath you. You despised them because they could not afford -to live as you considered necessary, because they cooked their husbands' -supper and wore old clothes so that he might go into the world and -represent his name and his profession worthily. You hated them----" - -"Not till they hated me!" Nora broke in, with a movement of passionate -protest. - -"They did not hate you--I know that. They welcomed you as a sister and -a comrade, until you showed that you would have none of them--until they -saw that you despised their ways and their ideals. Yes; they have -ideals, those poor dowdy women whom you looked down upon, and their -first and highest ideal is their Duty. Mark this! They bore with you -and your contempt and English arrogance until you insulted that ideal. -They bore with you as a comrade until you proved yourself unworthy of -their comradeship, until you brought disgrace upon your husband's name -and profession with your profligate brother and your lover----" - -"Hildegarde--how dare you!" - -"I dare because it is the truth." - -Both women had risen and faced each other. And yet in that supreme -moment of bitterness, something between them--their hatred and -distrust--yielded. Accuser and accused read in each other's eyes a -misery too great for hatred. - -"I know everything," Hildegarde went on rapidly. "Wolff has not opened -his lips, but Seleneck told us. We know that Wolff took upon his -shoulders the consequences of your and your brother's conduct. He -accepted the challenge that your brother refused, and he went to his -death without a word of reproach or anger. And that same night you fled -with the man whose name the whole world coupled with yours, and took -with you the one thing of value which you could steal from your -husband--his soldier's honour." - -Nora put her hand to her forehead. - -"Please--please tell me what you mean!" she cried piteously. "I don't -understand--his soldier's honour----?" - -"You know nothing of the papers that were stolen on the same night of -your flight?" - -"Papers----?" - -"Mobilisation papers--the papers on which Wolff had been working. When -Seleneck came to see you and tell you what had happened, he found that -you had gone, and that Wolff's room had been broken into. There was -only one explanation." - -"Listen!" Nora leant against the table. She was breathing in broken -gasps that were like sobs, but there was such clear resolution in her -eyes that Hildegarde waited in stern, rigid patience for her to speak. -"I will tell you all I can," she said at last, in a low, toneless voice -from which she had driven every trace of emotion. "I can't tell you -all, because I have not the strength--you must just believe me, -Hildegarde, when I say that I loved Wolff and that I was true to -him--yes, right to the bitter end. You must try and understand that I -suffered. I was English. I couldn't help myself. I was English to the -bottom of my heart. I loved my country as you love yours, and I could -not give it up. When the trouble began I was miserable: everything -goaded me. Oh, I was all wrong, I know. I let myself be carried away by -it all. I let myself be influenced. There were the Bauers--you won't -understand that, perhaps, but they flattered me. They offered me -friendship where others only followed me with their criticism; and when -I saw where it would all lead it was too late. Miles had fallen into -their hands. There were terrible debts and money troubles, and I dared -not tell Wolff. I knew he would send Miles away and--and I was afraid -of the loneliness." - -"Of the loneliness!" Hildegarde echoed scornfully. - -"Oh, can't you understand? I was a stranger among you. I was young and -headstrong and had made so many enemies. I had no one to turn to--only -Miles and Captain Arnold. They were English; they understood a little -what I felt. And I suffered, Hildegarde. It was as though I had been -infected with some frightful fever which left me no calm, which -magnified every word and look into a taunt and an insult. Once I _did_ -fight against it because I _did_ love Wolff and because I knew that our -whole happiness was at stake. But in the end it was too much for me. -That night when we all thought war had been declared, I could bear it no -longer. I rushed home. My brother had already gone----" She stopped a -moment as though some terrible new thought had flashed through her -brain, and the last trace of colour fled from her cheeks. "I followed -him. At the station I could not find him, but Captain Arnold was there. -He took me with him--home to my people. I did not go to him -intentionally: I could not have done so, because I did not love him and -never had loved him. I went home. That is all." - -"And the papers?" - -They looked each other in the eyes. - -"I think I know. God pity me--_that_ disgrace is indeed mine!" - -"No, no, not yours! Nora----." The old tone of tenderness had crept -into the shaken voice. She said no more, and they stood silently side -by side, overwhelmed with the disgrace that was another's, but which yet -seemed to surround them with its ugly shadow. - -It was Nora who at last broke the silence. - -"He must have been mad!" she said, as though she were thinking aloud. -"He must have thought that he was serving his country." - -But Hildegarde stopped her with a scornful gesture. - -"He hated Wolff," she said, "and for the good reason that Wolff had -helped and befriended him for your sake. He paid his debts with money -which my mother had given him----" - -"Don't, Hildegarde! Don't tell me any more--not now. I cannot bear -it!" - -The agony in her voice silenced the reproach. Hildegarde Arnim turned -away, as though she, too, had reached the limit of her strength. - -"I am not here to hurt you, but to save Wolff," she said brokenly. "He -will not save himself. Ever since he knew what had happened he has lain -with his eyes closed and will say nothing. Only when Captain von -Seleneck asked him about the papers, he said that he was to be held -responsible. They will arrest him if they are not brought back in -time." - -"Oh, no, no!" - -Hildegarde laughed harshly. - -"It will be only a formality," she said. "They know that he is dying, -and perhaps they will believe that he is innocent. But he has taken the -responsibility upon himself and must bear the punishment. It was Captain -von Seleneck who told me to go to you. He has taken Wolff to his house, -where my mother and his wife are nursing him. Seleneck thought you -might have pity, and the papers are valueless now that there is to be no -war. Oh, I know that Wolff is suffering! He was so proud of his work -and his duty and his great trust. You cannot understand all that it -means to him. Oh, Nora, let him die in peace! Give him back his good -name--he treasured it so----" - -All the hatred and cruelty had gone. She held out her hands to Nora in -desperate, almost humble, pleading. - -Nora stood rigid, staring in front of her with blank, terrible eyes. - -"He is dying!" she said under her breath. "He thinks I was so cruel and -wicked! Oh, Wolff!" - -"When he is asleep he calls your name," Hildegarde went on, "and once he -was half delirious, and he told me that you were not to worry--that he -was going to die--he wanted to die. And it is true: he wants to die. -He has lost everything--everything. That is why I have come--to bring -him back at least his honour. Oh, Nora, help me! Remember how he loved -you!" She drew a letter from her pocket and forced it into Nora's -powerless hands. "He wrote that before it all happened: it was his -farewell to you. He is dying. Read it! Surely it will tell you how he -loved you! Surely it will make you pitiful! Nora, if I have been unjust -and cruel--forgive me. Think that I am mad with grief--I loved him -so----" - -She broke off. Nora was reading her husband's letter, and a silence as -of death seemed to hover in the little room. - - -"MY BELOVED WIFE," Wolff had written. "It seems strange and foolish -that I should sit down and write to you when you are in the next room -and I could go in to you and tell you all that I have in my heart. It -seems all the more foolish because this letter may never come into your -hands. Somehow, though, I think that it will, and that, though I am a -clumsy fellow with my pen, you will understand better than if I spoke to -you now. Now there is a terrible sea between us which neither of us can -cross. You are bitter and angry with me because I am a soldier and must -do my duty even if it is against the one I love most on earth. I am sad -because I have lost my wife. You see, my dearest, I know everything. I -have known quite a long time, and pitied you with all my heart. I -pitied because I understood. You were too young to know your own heart -or to measure the sacrifices which you would have to bring, and it was -my fault that I did not measure for you and make you understand. Well, -after it was too late, you found out for yourself, and the old love came -back into your life, and I lost you. I never asked you about that 'old -love.' I trusted you, and I believed that the day would come when you -would tell me everything. Fate has ordained otherwise. I shall never -understand anything, save that you _did_ love me, and that for a time we -were wonderfully happy in our love. Now that it is all over, I can -still thank you for that time. It was worth all that it has cost, and -perhaps you too will not regret it--now that it is over. My beloved -wife! I suppose it had to end thus: there was too much between us. I -suppose--old _Streber_ that I am, with my cut-and-dried ways--that I -could not fit into your life nor fill it as another might have done, and -you could not understand that it was not want of love that made me fail. -You could not understand that I could love you and yet ask you to -sacrifice so much. If you had been a German woman you would have -understood better. You would have seen that a soldier must belong to -his duty, and that his wife must help him at whatever cost. But you -were English, and there was no reason why you should have brought -sacrifices to a country that was not your own. I can understand that: I -always understood, but I could not help you. - -"There was only one way for me to go, and you had to choose whether you -would follow me or go back. I wonder how you would have chosen? Thank -God, you need not be put to the test. I could not have borne to see you -suffer. When you receive this you will know that you are free and can -go back to your own people and your own country. It is that freedom -from which I hope more than I would dare to hope if I went to you now. -You will be able to forgive me because it is easy to forgive those who -have passed out of one's life for ever. You see, I know that I need -forgiveness. In my selfishness I tempted you into a life too full of -sacrifice and hardship, and I failed you, my darling, sometimes because -I was too miserable to see clearly, sometimes because I did not -understand, but never because I did not love you. Forgive me, then, and -perhaps--if you can--let a little of the old love revive. It can do no -harm, and it makes me happy to think that it is possible. - -"Do not try to find out how this has all happened. All you need know is -that I am to fight a duel to-morrow, and that the chances are against -me. I know you despise duelling, but this time it has at least its -use--it will set you free. - -"This is a poor letter, dearest, in which I have said only half of all I -long to say. If you read in it one word of reproach or regret, believe -that it is only my clumsy pen which has failed me, and that I have -nothing in my heart but love for you. In all I am to blame, and I am -glad that it has been spared me to see you suffer. Do not be sad over -all that has happened; do not let it cast a shadow over your life. You -have given a few months' happiness to a man who has never for one -instant counted the price too high. You made me very happy. Let that -be my thanks to you. - -"God bless you, my little English wife! In my mind's eye I can see you -sitting at your table in the next room, with your heart full of -bitterness against me; or perhaps you are thinking of---- No, I will -not believe that. I would rather believe that it is only bitterness, -only sorrow because you are torn between your country and your husband, -and can find no peace. The peace is yours now; and when the time comes -for you to find your happiness in that old love, remember that I -understood and that I blessed you. - -"WOLFF VON ARNIM. - -"P.S.--The Selenecks are your friends, and have promised to help you. -Trust them implicitly." - - -Nora lifted her eyes to Hildegarde's. The two women who a short -half-hour before had confronted each other in hatred and defiance now -met on the common ground of a great sorrow. The barriers between them -were yielding fast, were being swept aside. Their hands met, and that -touch broke down the last restraint. The next instant they were clasped -in each other's arms. - -"I loved him so!" Nora sobbed wildly. "I loved him so--and I have made -him unhappy. I have killed him! Oh, Hildegarde, why did I come into -his life? You would have made him happy. You loved him, and there was -nothing to divide you. Why did you not keep him? Why did you give him -back his freedom?" - -"I could not have made him happy, Nora," Hildegarde answered. "I think -there are some natures which must come together though the world stands -between, and even if it be to their own ruin. Wolff belongs to you. He -will belong to you to the very end." - -Nora lifted her face. She had become suddenly calm. She held herself -with the dignity of resolution. - -"And I to him," she said. "I belong to him and to no one else in the -world. And whatever separates us, I shall find my way back. There must -be--there is a bridge across. And when I have crossed it I shall atone -as no woman ever atoned before. I shall blot out the past. Take me -with you, Hildegarde; take me back to him--now, this hour!" - -Hildegarde kissed her. She could have said that there is a "too late" -in life, and that that "too late" had come. But there was something in -Nora's face--a hope, a confidence, a strange look of clarified happiness -which held her silent. Without a word, Nora turned and left her. She -seemed guided by a sure instinct, for she went straight to her brother's -bedroom. As she entered he was hurriedly cramming some clothes into a -portmanteau, and his white, foolish face was blank with fear. - -"Well?" he asked. - -She came towards him, and he knew that no explanation was needed. - -"Give me the papers you stole from my husband!" she said quietly. "Give -them to me at once." - -A sullen, defiant answer trembled on his lips, but she stopped him with -a single gesture. - -"I do not ask you to explain or excuse yourself," she said. "I know -what you are, Miles, and I should not believe you. Nor do I appeal to -your better feelings. I appeal to your common sense. The papers are -useless to you. They might only bring you into trouble. Give them to -me!" - -He gave them to her without a word of protest. Her paralysed him; and -only when she had reached the door he stammered a single question. - -"Where are you going, Nora?" - -"I am going home--to my husband," she answered, "and I pray with all my -heart that I may never see your face again!" - - - - - *CHAPTER IV* - - *THE BRIDGE ACROSS* - - -The Selenecks' little drawing-room was almost in darkness. Only the -pale, flickering reflection from the lights in the street beneath fell -on the farther wall and threw into ghostly prominence the figures of the -silent occupants. Frau von Seleneck was seated at the table, still bent -over a letter which she had ceased to write long before the dusk had -crept in upon them. Her husband knelt beside her, and his hand held hers -in a strong, tender clasp. - -Thus they had been ever since a hard-drawn sob had told him that the -letter was no more than a pretence. He had seen the tear-stains and the -piteous smudges, and he had knelt down as though he knew that his closer -presence comforted her. Neither had spoken. They seemed to be always -listening, but the silence remained unbroken. Once, it is true, a -carriage had rattled along the street and they had looked at each other, -but it had gone on, and neither had made any observation. - -From where they sat they could see across the road into the rooms of the -house opposite. They were brightly lit, and in one a noble young -fir-tree glittered in all the glory of tinsel and golden spangles. -Husband and wife glanced quickly away. It was Christmas Eve. A tiny -little shrub stood in the corner, unadorned save with the candles and -one single star. Frau von Seleneck had bought it at the last moment, -because she could not bring herself to let the great evening pass -without that time-honoured custom, but she had cried when she had fixed -the star on the topmost branch, and since then she had never dared look -at it because of the tears that rose in spite of every heroic effort. - -Presently the clock upon the mantelpiece began to chime. They counted -the hurried, cheery little strokes under their breath. Seven o'clock. - -"They must be here soon," she said in a whisper. - -"If the train is not late," he answered, trying to speak in a -matter-of-fact tone. "They are usually late on Christmas Eve." - -"Yes," she said. "How terrible and long the journey must seem to her!" - -"If she cares!" he said bitterly. - -His wife's hand tightened on his. - -"I think she cares," she said with an almost awe-struck earnestness. "I -am nearly sure. It is not alone that she is coming--it is something -else. Kurt, haven't you ever had a letter--just an ordinary -letter--from some one dear to you, and haven't you had the feeling that -it contained a message of which the writer had written nothing--as -though the words had absorbed the look of his eyes, the touch of his -hand, and were trying to transmit to you all that which he had tried to -hide behind them? That was how I felt when Nora's telegram came. It -was just an ordinary, ugly telegram, and yet I knew that she cared--that -she was sorry." - -"Pray God he may live to see her!" he answered. - -"Pray God that he may live to be happy with her!" she added reverently. - -He shook his head. - -"I don't pray that," he said. "I can't ask impossibilities of God. And -how should Nora make Wolff happy now? She failed before, when her task -was easy. What should give her the strength to succeed in the face of -the distrust and hatred which she called to life by her own folly?" - -"I shall help her," Elsa von Seleneck returned proudly. "I shall stand -by her for Wolff's sake and because we were once friends. After all, -she has atoned--she is coming back. That must be the hardest thing of -all." - -"She will need more than your help," was the grave answer. - -"Then God will give it her!" - -A tear splashed on to the note-paper, and he pressed her hand tighter. - -"Steady, Frauchen!" he whispered. "I hear some one moving." - -They listened breathlessly. A second cab rumbled along the street, but -this time they did not hear it. Their whole attention was concentrated -on that neighbouring room, where life and death kept their silent vigil, -and when suddenly the door was softly opened, both started as though an -icy hand had touched them on the shoulder. - -A faint light came through the open doorway, and against the pale -background Frau von Arnim's figure stood out in all its old noble -stateliness. They could not see her face, but they felt that it was -composed and resolute in its grief. - -"I think they have come," she said. "I heard a cab outside." - -Somewhere downstairs a bell rang, and Seleneck rose softly to his feet. - -"I will light the lamp," he said, but his hand shook, and his wife took -the matches from him. - -"Let me do it, Kurt. I am crying--I can't help it; but I am quite -steady. _Gnädige Frau_, how is he?" - -"Sleeping," was the answer. - -Poor Frau von Seleneck was not as good as her word. She could not manage -the wick, and the glass shade threatened to fall from her nervous hands. -In the end she lighted the little candles on the Christmas tree. - -"We can at least see each other," she apologised humbly. - -Thus it was by this frail yet steady light of hope and happiness that -Nora entered and stood before them. She was not alone, and yet, as -though of intention, Hildegarde had drawn back from her so that she -stood apart, looking silently from one to the other. No one spoke. -They too looked at her without a gesture of greeting, even of -recognition. It was as though she were a total stranger, an intruder, -an enemy. And yet that haggard young face might have touched them. It -was almost terrible in its look of suspense and agony. - -"Have I come in time?" she whispered. - -Her voice broke the spell. Frau von Arnim nodded. Nothing had changed -in her expression, but its very calm was a reproach and a punishment. - -"He is alive," she said. - -Nora took a step forward so that she came within the pale circle of -light. For the first time they saw each other full in the eyes. - -"You have brought the papers--the proof that he is innocent?" Frau von -Arnim asked. - -"I have brought everything--more than you know; and I have come to be -forgiven." - -A dead, blank silence. Suddenly she stretched out her hands in piteous, -reckless appeal. - -"Forgive me. I am guilty, but not so guilty as you think. I have been -foolish and self-deceived, but not heartless, not wicked. Forgive me! -Hildegarde has forgiven me!" - -It was like a broken-hearted child crying in helpless, lonely -repentance, and with a quick movement Hildegarde slipped her arm about -the trembling shoulders. - -"You will know everything soon," she said. "Then you will see that we -have all been to blame--that we all need to pardon and to receive -pardon. Forgive now--for Wolff's sake!" - -Something quivered in Frau von Arnim's frozen face. The little woman by -the tree was crying openly, and her husband turned away as though the -light blinded him. - -"Nora," Frau von Arnim said. - -That was all. Nora took a stumbling step forward; the elder woman -caught her and held her. They clung to each other in a moment's agony -of grief. Years of life would not have brought them together nor broken -their stubborn pride. The hand of death had touched them, and pride and -hatred vanished. The barriers had yielded and left free the road from -heart to heart. - -"Forgive?" Nora whispered brokenly. - -Very gently she was drawn towards the closed door. - -"Let us go to him," Frau von Arnim said. - -It was her forgiveness, and they entered the room together, hand clasped -in hand. For one instant Nora shrank back as she saw the white face on -the pillow. Then she loosened herself from her companion's clasp and -went forward alone. They did not follow her. It was as though at this -hour of crisis she had claimed her right above them all, as though -without a word she yet demanded back from them what was her own; and -they watched her in awed, unbroken silence. She took the white, feeble -hand upon the coverlet, and kissed it. - -"Wolff!" she whispered. "Wolff!" - -No one before had been able to rouse him from that terrible, death-like -slumber. His eyes opened, and he smiled peacefully at her. - -"My little wife!" he answered faintly. - -She crept nearer. She put her arm beneath his head so that he rested -like a child against her breast. - -"I have come back," she said. "I have brought your papers and your -honour. You are to be quite, quite happy. I will tell you -everything----" - -"Not now," he interrupted gently; "not now. I have so little time." - -His voice was pitifully thin and broken. It was as though the great, -powerful body had become inhabited by the soul of a child. She drew him -closer to her with a movement of infinite tenderness. - -"Only one thing--I did not leave you because I did not love you--or -because of--any one else. Wolff, you must understand that. I was -mad--the thought of war and my own people made me forget all that you -were to me. But now I know, and you must know too. You shall not think -so badly, so wickedly of me." - -He shook his head. - -"I think nothing bad of you, Nora." - -"You know I love you?" - -"You have a good, warm heart," he answered faintly. "You are sorry for -me--and I thank you. I am glad that I am going to set you free." - -"Wolff!" - -For the first time she understood. He did not believe her, and he was -dying. The blow was almost annihilating in its force and cruelty. -Hitherto she had defied Fate; it crushed her now beneath its -inevitableness, and a cry of agonised revolt burst from her lips. - -"Wolff, you must believe me! I can't begin life again without you--I -can't! You must not leave me--you cannot leave me lonely!" - -He smiled. - -"Don't you see that it is for the best, my darling? It was not your -fault. The sea between is so broad and strong----" He broke off -suddenly, and a curious, unsteady light flickered into his glazed eyes. -"Don't let her know it is anything--serious," he whispered. "She will be -frightened--and she must not be frightened. She has gone, you say? -With Arnold? That is a lie. I knew she was going--I sent her. Her -mother is ill. The papers----? Oh, my God! my God!" - -She clasped him tighter in her arms. The frightful outbreak of -delirium--frightful because of its extraordinary yet heart-broken -quietness--shook her to the soul. She looked about her, and in an -instant Hildegarde was at her side. - -"Nora is here," she said. "She will never leave you again. She has -brought the papers. They are safe--the papers are safe." - -She repeated the words over and over again, as though she were striving -to break through the cloud in which his mind was shrouded. He thrust -her from him, dragging himself upright in a stiff attitude of salute. - -"Herr General, I am responsible--alone responsible. No one else is to -blame. The papers?--I can tell you nothing but that I am responsible. -Tell him, Seleneck! Tell him I boasted about them and was -careless--anything! Swear--give me your word of honour! I am -dying--what does it matter? No, no; you are not to send for her. She -is to be happy--and free--among her own people. You must not blame her. -It was too hard. We--must forgive each other. Oh, Nora! Nora! - -"I am here, Wolff, my darling, my husband! I have come back--I will -atone to you with my whole life. You don't know how I love you--more -than people, more than country, more than the whole world! I have -learnt just in the last hours that there is no one else who matters to -me but you, and you alone. I will make you happy--so happy, my -dearest!" - -In that moment she remembered the power that had been given her, and her -voice rang with the exultation of victory. He heard it, and the painful -excitement died out of his eyes. The mist of dreams shifted, and he -picked up the thread as though the short burst of delirium had never -been. - -"Nora, why do you look at me like that? What is it you are trying to -say to me? There is something new in your face. Nora, help me! I am -groping in the dark----" - -She held him closer to her, and it seemed to her that the threatening -hand of Fate sank, and that Death drew back as from a greater power. - -"I am happy, Wolff--happier than I have ever been. I know that our -happiness has begun at last." - -"It is too late--too late, Nora!" - -"Not if you live, my darling. And you will live, because you will not -leave me comfortless--because there is another to come who will need -you----" - -She broke off. He was looking at her as he had once looked at her -before--as though he were trying to pierce down to the uttermost depths -of her soul. A look of dawning wonder was in his eyes. - -"Nora--is it possible----?" - -She smiled at him triumphantly through the blinding tears. - -"It is possible; it is true. And even if it were not true, I should -hold you back alone--with my own hands. I have been through fire, -Wolff. I have grown strong, and my strength is my love for you. Don't -you know that?" - -"_Kleine Frau_, it is so hard to believe, and yet--yes, I believe I -_know_! It has come to me suddenly. It is as though a cloud were -lifting. Before, you seemed afar off; a great distance separated us, -and when you spoke I could not hear or understand what you were saying -to me--what you were trying to tell me. Nora, I can hear and -understand. Oh, Nora, how good it is to have you again, my little wife! -How good God is!" - -A change had come over his face. It seemed illuminated from within, so -that the shadow of death was forgotten, obliterated by the strength of -his joy and love. - -"Nora, I believe I have been living for this! I have been like -Tristan--do you remember?--fighting back death until my Isolde came. I -have been waiting and waiting as he waited. There was a great sea -between us; but I knew that you would come in time. I saw you in my -dreams--at first a long way off, and then nearer and nearer--Nora! I -understand everything--you don't need to tell me: there is a bridge -between us; you are quite close to me; you have crossed--my wife!" - -He tried to lift her hand, as though he would have kissed it, but his -strength failed him and he lay still, with his head resting peacefully -against her breast. - -Presently he sighed. And with that sigh something in the quiet room -seemed to change. The shadows lifted, and through the open doorway the -single glittering star upon the solemn fir-tree shone with a greater -brightness. Hildegarde knelt down by the bed and buried her face in her -hands. The sounds of her smothered sobs alone broke the peaceful hush -about them. But Nora seemed not to hear her. She bent, and her lips -rested on the quiet, untroubled forehead. A great calm and thankfulness -had come over her. She knew that all was well. - -Love had pronounced the last triumphant word, and the sea between them -had rolled away for ever. - - - - PRINTED BY - HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD. - LONDON AND AYLESBURY. - - - - - * * * * * * * * - - - - - *Mills & Boon's New Novels* - - _Crown 8vo, 6s. each._ - - -*THE MOUNTAIN OF GOD*. E. S. STEVENS. -*DIVIDING WATERS*. I. A. R. WYLIE. -*THE SOCIALIST COUNTESS*. HORACE W. C. NEWTE. -*THE PALACE OF LOGS*. ROBERT BARR. -*PHILLIDA*. THOMAS COBB. -*THE NEEDLEWOMAN*. WINIFRED GRAHAM. -*THE TWO FACES*. MARIE VAN VORST. -*ODD COME SHORTS*. MRS. ALFRED SIDGWICK -*THE LEECH*. MRS. HAROLD E. GORST. -*CAPTAIN SENTIMENTAL*. EDGAR JEPSON -*THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA*. GASTON LEROUX. -*DOWN OUR STREET*. J. E. BUCKROSE. -*MR. PERRIN AND MR. TRAILL*. HUGH WALPOLE. -*BODY AND SOUL*. LADY TROUBRIDGE. -*CHILDREN OF THE CLOVEN HOOF*. ALBERT DORRINGTON. -*THE YEAR'S ROUND*. MAUD STEPNEY RAWSON. -*THE QUEEN'S HAND*. MRS. BAILLIE REYNOLDS. -*ISABEL*. DOROTHY V. HORACE SMITH. -*WHEN THE RED GODS CALL*. BEATRICE GRIMSHAW. -*SOME EXPERIENCES OF A POLITICAL AGENT*. ANON. -*THE SEA-LION*. PATRICK RUSHDEN. -*813*. A New Arsène Lupin Adventure. MAURICE LEBLANC. -*WITH POISON AND SWORD*. W. M. O'KANE. -*SPORT OF GODS*. H. VAUGHAN-SAWYER. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIVIDING WATERS *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49460 - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so -the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and -trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be -used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific -permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, -complying with the rules is very easy. 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