"I would have interrupted him to tell him that he was mistaken, but he
exclaimed, 'Hush! I will listen to no excuse from you. If you were my
equal in rank I should require from you the satisfaction of a
gentleman; as it is, you cannot insult me. Tell Frau von Osternau that
every tie of kindred is broken between us forever.'

"'Frau von Osternau knows nothing----' I began.

"'Spare me all falsehood,' he interrupted me. 'I do not believe you. I
know that Frau von Osternau and Lieschen are my mortal enemies, and I
shall not forget that they are so.'

"He turned on his heel and went out of the house, leaving me in a state
of mortification and depression quite indescribable. I gathered myself
together, however, and went again to the parsonage, feeling it my duty
to confess what I had done to Herr von Osternau. This, however, I could
not do: Herr von Osternau had died a few minutes after our interview
had ended.

"I cannot describe to you, Herr von Ernau, the utter wretchedness of
his poor wife. She had loved her husband with her whole heart; in her
eyes he was the wisest and best of men, and at first she could find no
consolation even in her children.

"Indeed, she was an object of compassion in every respect, for after
Herr von Osternau's death his affairs were found to be in by no means
so prosperous a condition as had been supposed. In former years he had
devoted all his surplus income to the improvement of his estate, and
when he began to save, in order to leave his wife and daughter
independent, his own generous, kindly nature, which led him to pay
Lieutenant Albrecht's debts repeatedly, and into other similar acts,
was a bar to the fulfilment of his purpose. Only very lately had he
succeeded in accumulating the sixty thousand thalers which was to
purchase Wernewitz and Rudersdorf for Fräulein Lieschen, and this
money--the only independent fortune which he had to bequeath--was
either destroyed in the fire, or the prey of a scoundrel. There was no
solution of this last question, for nothing came to light to confirm
the suspicion which Herr von Osternau had confided to me.

"The Lieutenant had gone to Berlin immediately after being treated in
the disgraceful way of which I told you, and did not return to
Osternau, for, as he explained in a letter to Frau von Osternau, not
even his cousin's death could obliterate from his mind the insult
offered him, which must henceforth estrange him from his kindred. He
lived in Berlin, as he had done formerly,--not more expensively, but on
a scale of such luxury as to make a certain income indispensable. I was
quite sure that I knew its source, but my conviction was useless in the
matter. Popular opinion in the country round regarded the Lieutenant as
the incendiary, but no proof of his guilt was forthcoming. Since,
however, it was the common talk of the country, the courts took the
matter up, and there was an investigation of the cause of the fire. It
was without result, however; the only suspicious circumstance with
regard to it being the state in which the fire-engine was found, after
having been thoroughly examined and pronounced in good order a few days
previously by the Lieutenant at Herr von Osternau's request.

"I thought it my duty to acquaint Herr von Sastrow, Fritzchen's
guardian, with what the boy's father had confided to me, but I could
not gainsay the good old man when he advised me to dismiss from my mind
such apparently groundless suspicions.

"Frau von Osternau, after her husband's death, could not bring herself
to leave the place which she so dearly loved. Herr von Sastrow tried to
persuade her to remove to Berlin, where it would be much easier to
educate Fritzchen; but she preferred to remain, for a while at least,
in a modest little cottage which she rented in the village of Osternau.
The allowance made her from the estate for the education of its heir
sufficed amply for her wants. Herr von Sastrow confided the management
of Osternau to me, and this rendered it possible for me to fulfil the
promise made to his father to keep watch over Fritzchen.

"Three sad months passed after Herr von Osternau's death, and then the
widow was called upon to sustain another terrible blow, in the loss of
her prop and stay, her darling Fritz."

Egon had listened hitherto without a word to Storting's sad tale; he
had been profoundly moved by the account of the burning of the castle,
and of the death of its master, but at Storting's last words he started
forward, exclaiming, "Fritzchen dead! What a terrible trial! Was his
father's dying foreboding----"

"No, no, Herr von Ernau," Storting interrupted him. "Whatever crimes
Lieutenant von Osternau may have committed, he is guiltless of Fritz's
death: the boy died of scarlet fever. Fräulein Lieschen tended him
night and day with a devotion which I have never seen equalled. She
would not leave his bedside for an hour, although the physician tried
to induce her to resign the care of him to some one else, since she had
never had the fever herself. She was his only nurse, for her mother was
ill in another room,--too ill even to see her darling, who breathed his
last in his sister's arms.

"After Fritz's death the Lieutenant was the heir of Osternau; his
cousin's wife and daughter could lay no claim to anything save the late
proprietor's private property, and this had been destroyed on the night
of the fire.

"A week after the boy's death the new master came to Osternau. He had
told the pastor of his coming, and had asked him to rent a couple of
rooms for him in some farm-house, which he could occupy until the
rebuilding of the castle was complete.

"Immediately after his arrival he sent for me. I could not but obey his
summons, for he was the lord of Osternau, and I was obliged to hand in
to him my accounts for the management of the estate since Herr von
Osternau's death.

"I went to him with a heavy heart, fully expecting that he would make
use of the power now in his hands to revenge himself for the insult I
had once offered him, and as fully resolved to requite scorn with
scorn.

"He was sitting in a bare little room, the best the pastor could
procure for him, at a table covered with papers. As I entered he rose
and came towards me. He was greatly changed. The last few months had
made him many years older. His eyes had an uncertain, flickering
brilliancy; his face was haggard and very pale. The erect military
carriage that had formerly characterized him was gone: he had grown
old.

"He offered me his hand, and addressed me in a tone of hypocritical
friendliness that disgusted me, as after one fleeting glance of keen
scrutiny his eyes fell before mine.

"'We were hardly friends when we parted, Storting,' he said. 'You
offended me, and I used harsh words towards you. We were both in a
state of unnatural agitation, induced by the events of the night and my
cousin's danger. You meant to act for the best, as the friend and
servant of my dear departed relative. When I was cooler I perceived
this, and therefore, I assure you, I bear you not the faintest grudge.
Here is my hand. I trust you will take it in the spirit in which it is
offered.'

"I could not refuse to take his hand, although my whole nature rose in
revolt against any fellowship with the man. I had to sit down and take
a cigar, while he talked to me as one would to some dear old friend,
without a trace of the arrogance which had formerly made him so
disliked by me. He asked, with every appearance of sympathy, after Frau
von Osternau and Fräulein Lieschen. I had to inform him of the
particulars of Fritz's death, and of Fräulein Lieschen's devotion; he
showed the keenest interest in the welfare of his relatives, and
postponed all business details, remarking that the management of the
estate could not be in better hands than mine, and that he would
discuss business with me when his relations with Frau von Osternau and
Lieschen should be arranged. That they might become so, he begged me to
assist him.

"'I assure you, Storting,' he said, 'that I am profoundly distressed by
the terrible trials that have fallen to the lot of my dear relatives.
For Frau von Osternau I entertain a greater regard than words can
express, and Lieschen, whom I have known from her early childhood, has
always been my ideal of feminine loveliness. My cousin Fritz formerly
frequently expressed the wish that a nearer tie might some time exist
between his daughter and myself,--the dear child was in a measure
brought up for me. This thought has often solaced me in hours of
depression. I always regarded her as my future wife, even in the midst
of our trifling disputes. Unfortunately, by my own fault, the relations
between my relatives and myself have not of late years been so
harmonious as they once were, and I fear that Lieschen may not think
favourably of her father's former promises, the fulfilment of which
forms the chief--I may say, the only--hope of my existence. My heart
would lead me to declare this myself to Frau von Osternau and her
daughter, but my head tells me to entreat your mediation, Storting; no
rash word uttered by Lieschen in the excitement of the moment must be
allowed to place a barrier between us. I ask of you a favour, Storting,
which will make me your debtor for life: tell Frau von Osternau what I
have just told you. She is a woman of practical sense and discernment,
she will not be led astray by the mood of the moment, but will perceive
that a union between Lieschen and myself is the most natural and
harmonious solution of the present unhappy state of affairs, for which
the law of entail is to blame. As my wife, Lieschen will be mistress of
the Osternau estate. Surely Frau von Osternau will use her influence
with her daughter to induce her to encourage my hopes.',

"My blood ran cold at the idea of Fräulein Lieschen's becoming this
man's wife, but I could not refuse to carry his proposal to Frau von
Osternau. What had the future in store for them save a life of poverty
and care? By the terms of the Osternau entail, the widow of a former
proprietor was entitled to but three hundred thalers yearly from the
revenues of the estate; the daughters were entirely unprovided for.
Under these circumstances was not a marriage with the Lieutenant to all
appearances Fräulein von Osternau's only resource? Was there not a
degree of generosity in the offer just made? I could not but make it
known to the mother and daughter.

"It was a hard task. When I presented myself in their lodgings, I found
them already informed of the Lieutenant's arrival. I reported to them
the conversation I had just had with him, and strove, to the best of my
ability, to do so in an entirely impartial manner. I must have
succeeded in this, for my words evidently produced an impression upon
Frau von Osternau.

"'We have done Cousin Albrecht injustice,' she said, gently. 'He may be
thoughtless and imprudent, but he cannot be bad, or he would not so
soon forget the insult lately offered him in Osternau. His offer is
magnanimous at least. You never treated him well, Lieschen, you often
offended him, and yet he loves you, and would make you mistress of
Osternau.'

"Fraulein Lieschen gazed at her mother with an expression of positive
horror. 'You cannot think for an instant that I could accept his
terrible proposal?' she asked, and her voice trembled.

"'Do not judge your cousin so harshly, my child,' said Frau von
Osternau. 'He hopes, as you have heard, that you will not decide
hastily; he knows your impetuous temperament, and dreads your saying to
him in a personal interview words which could neither be forgiven nor
forgotten. What you have just said proves him right. Therefore he has
asked our good Herr Storting to be his messenger, conscious also that
you are my dear, unselfish child, and that you may be brought to
overcome your momentary impulse of aversion to this marriage when you
consider that your 'no' would drive us both away from our dear
Osternau,--from the graves of your father and Fritz,--out into the
world, to struggle with poverty and want, while your 'yes' would make
you mistress of Osternau, and allow me to live here, where I have been
so happy, and where, in the midst of memorials of the past, I never can
be quite unhappy. I feel sure that, after due reflection, you will
decide for the best, and, therefore, I beg you not to decide at once.'

"Fräulein Lieschen wept bitterly while her mother was speaking, but
when she paused, and, taking her daughter's hand, drew her towards her,
the young girl embraced her tenderly, and, controlling herself, said,
calmly and firmly, 'It would be wicked to postpone my decision for an
hour. I will sacrifice everything for you, mother dear, except my
soul's salvation, and that would be imperilled by false vows. How can I
promise to revere and love a man whom I despise? I cannot sell myself
to him, mother, even for your sake. To require this of me would be to
doom your only child to death.'

"'Lieschen!' cried her mother, 'do not blaspheme.'

"'No,' she rejoined, 'I do not blaspheme. I should not lay hands upon
my own life, mother, but the sense of my degradation would kill me. But
you will not compel me to such a fate? you will not be faithless to the
memory of my father, who never would have permitted it? I will gladly
share poverty with you, gladly work for you, dearest mother, but marry
that thief----"

"'Hush, Lieschen, hush!' her mother interrupted her.

"'It was my father's word, whispered in my ear in his last moments,"
the girl went on. "'Watch over Fritz,' he said; 'protect him from the
thief and incendiary.' Go back to Herr von Osternau, Herr Storting, and
tell him what you have heard; tell him the mere thought of him inspires
me with aversion, and that I would rather die in misery than sell
myself to him. You have carried his message faithfully, do the same by
mine.'

"You know, Herr von Ernau, that I was never at any time able to resist
Fräulein Lieschen's requests, and I did not fail her in this the
darkest hour of her life. I promised to report her decision to the
Lieutenant. She thanked me with a look, and Frau von Osternau said,
with a sigh, 'I must submit. Lieschen has inherited her father's
strength of will in matters of conscience. The foolish child is
destroying her future; it is sad, but I cannot prevent it. I must yield
to her resolve. Since it must be so, it is, perhaps, better not to
postpone acquainting Albrecht with her decision.'

"I left them with a far lighter heart than I brought to them. The
commission with which I was charged could hardly be considered an
agreeable one, especially as Fräulein Lieschen begged me to repeat to
the Lieutenant everything that she had said concerning him; but the
sense of relief in knowing that she was in no wise to belong to that
villain outweighed every other consideration in my mind.

"The Lieutenant had probably foreseen the answer he should receive. He
calmly listened while I repeated, as far as I could recall it, all that
Frau von Osternau and her daughter had said, only omitting to mention
that Fräulein Lieschen had called him thief and incendiary. An evil
smile played about his lips, but he only glanced at my face from time
to time, seeming unwilling to meet my eye.

"'I meant well,' he declared, when I had finished, and then he went on
to explain his regret that his relatives should be so limited as to
means, that he would gladly have shared his wealth with them, and that,
in view of Lieschen's youth and inexperience, he should continue to
hope that with time she might be brought to regard his suit favourably.
Meanwhile, he offered Frau von Osternau and her daughter a home in the
castle so soon as it should be rebuilt. If they refused to avail
themselves of this offer, he should, of course, confine himself to the
payment to the widow of the yearly sum allowed her by law. It would
weary you, Herr von Ernau, to recount to you all the details of our
conversation. I thanked God when it was ended.

"Of course Frau von Osternau refused to live beneath his roof,
dependent upon his bounty. There was no need of Fräulein Lieschen's
indignant rejection of any such idea to influence her mother's
decision. The two went to Berlin, where it was easier than in any
country town to find some employment wherewith to eke out their scanty
income. They left the village of Osternau two weeks after the
Lieutenant's arrival, without having seen him, and on the day of their
departure I too bade farewell to the place where I had spent such happy
years.

"Herr von Osternau offered me a large salary if I would continue to
occupy my position as superintendent of the estate, but I could not
bring myself to serve the man who could never be to me anything save a
thief and an incendiary. I procured another situation not nearly so
profitable in a pecuniary point of view.

"I corresponded at first very frequently with Frau von Osternau, and
although of late our letters have been fewer, I have never lost sight
of her. She has had a weary, anxious time of it. Too proud to ask help
from her wealthy relatives, she had no resources save her paltry yearly
pittance of three hundred thalers and the untiring industry of Fräulein
Lieschen, who furnished embroidery for one of the large Berlin firms.
Frau von Osternau wrote with positive enthusiasm of her daughter, who,
in spite of her constant labour at her embroidery, found time to study
and to complete her defective education, so that last spring she passed
a brilliant examination as governess. My last letter was received from
Frau von Osternau between three and four months ago, when this
examination was just passed; and while the mother spoke of it with
pardonable pride, she mourned over the probability of a coming
separation from her daughter, who was about to accept a situation as
governess, thereby greatly increasing her mother's means of support. Of
Cousin Albrecht she had heard only through Herr von Sastrow. He lived
for a short time the life of a hermit in his gorgeous new-built castle,
avoided by all families of his own rank in the neighbourhood; for the
report that he had set fire to the castle was rife in the country
around, and he was virtually sent to Coventry. He therefore spent most
of the year in Berlin, where he associated with needy members of the
aristocracy and doubtful characters whose good will he could purchase
with his money. The doors of the first people in society were closed
against him. His large income he wasted in all sorts of extravagant
dissipation, and it was reported in Berlin that he had contracted
enormous debts.

"For herself Frau von Osternau wrote that, if her daughter accepted a
situation as governess away from Berlin, she too should leave the city
and go to some Silesian village, where her small income would suffice
for her modest wants."

                             CHAPTER XXVI.
                             A CONSPIRACY.

What a story was this! To Egon, Storting's narrative seemed like some
wild romance. Herr von Osternau and Fritzchen, the bright, intelligent
little fellow, dead, Frau von Osternau the victim of a scoundrel's
crime, and Lieschen forced to work hard to stave off destitution! He
could hardly trust his ears, and it needed the sight of Storting's sad,
earnest face, as he spoke, to confirm his words.

Egon's mind was filled with the eager desire to aid those to whom
during the past few years his heart had so often turned,--those who, as
he was now painfully aware, had formed part of every vision of his
future life. He had resisted all impulse to revisit Castle Osternau;
only when his new existence was fairly and honestly begun at Plagnitz
could he hope to find there the pardon for which he thirsted for the
deceit practised upon its inmates. And now this could never be, and the
thought that he was possessed of superfluous wealth, while those dear
to him were working for their daily bread, was positively intolerable.
He sprang up, but the instant and intense pain in his head reminded him
that the physician had forbidden all exertion for some days, and that
he could not hasten as he longed to Lieschen's side, to shield her from
all further distress. He sank back wearily in his arm-chair.

"Confound that miserable accident!" he said, angrily. "It keeps me a
prisoner here when every moment is precious. Frau von Osternau must not
live a day longer in such unsuitable circumstances. Storting, you must
do me a favour to-morrow,--no, to-day. By the night-train you must go
to Berlin. I cannot go myself, as you see, and perhaps it is better
that you, Frau von Osternau's old friend, should act for me. I will
give you an order on our bank. You must draw any sum necessary to
provide handsomely for Frau von Osternau, and to prevent Fräulein
Lieschen from taking the place of a hired servant. I will not allow it;
it shall not be. Make haste, Storting! I will write to our cashier and
get the order ready for you while you are preparing to set off. You
must be in Berlin to-morrow."

Storting smiled, but shook his head.

"Your kind and generous intention does you honour, Herr von Ernau," he
said, cordially, "but I fear it will be of no avail. My journey to
Berlin, where, according to her last letter, I should no longer find
Frau von Osternau, would be of no use even were the lady still there.
She would thank you for your generosity, but would refuse to accept
your money, as she has already refused the offers of help made her by
Herr von Sastrow and others of her relatives. 'As long as I can work,
we are not objects of charity,' I myself heard Fräulein Lieschen say,
while her head was held as haughtily and her eyes sparkled as brightly
as in the dear old times. She will work to the last, but she never will
suffer her mother to receive aid from outsiders."

What had Egon been thinking of to propose to offer money to Frau von
Osternau? Storting's words convinced him that Lieschen would indeed
refuse such a gift. It was well that his wound had prevented his
immediate departure for Berlin. How mortified he should have been to
have his thoughtless gift rejected with fitting pride! And yet he could
not endure the thought of Lieschen--in his heart he almost said his
Lieschen--forced to labour for her daily bread, to resign her freedom
and place herself at the beck and call of strangers. Oh, it was
intolerable! What could he do? A happy idea suddenly suggested itself.

"Did you not once tell me, Storting," he asked, "that old Herr von
Osternau had lost large sums of money through his careless generosity?
was there not some story of a manufacturer in Breslau whose factory
burned down, and to whom Herr von Osternau loaned a very considerable
amount of money without sufficient security, and lost it all by the
man's absconding?"

"Yes, that did really happen. The swindler was a paper-manufacturer by
the name of Simon; he ran off to America ten years ago, and Herr von
Osternau lost every penny of the twenty thousand thalers he loaned
him."

"Now, perhaps the poor fellow was no swindler at all. Probably only
extreme need drove him to America, and so soon as he is aware of the
circumstances in which Frau von Osternau and her daughter are placed he
feels it his duty to restore, both principal and interest, the loan so
generously made him. As he does not know Frau von Osternau's present
place of abode, he naturally makes application to Herr Storting, whom
he knew formerly as the admirable Osternau inspector, and to him he
sends the owing money, commissioning him to hand it over to the heirs
of the late Herr von Osternau. Of course Herr Simon will require from
these heirs a receipt for the sum handed them, and a quittance of all
further claims. You must not be surprised, Storting, to receive a
communication from Herr Simon this very evening, with an order upon the
firm of A. C. Ernau & Co., in Berlin, for the sum in question; and of
course I shall give you leave of absence for some time that you may
arrange the matter satisfactorily. I am sure you will not refuse to
undertake the affair, Storting."

"What can I say, Herr von Ernau," cried the delighted Storting, "except
that I am honoured in being the instrument of such generosity?"

"After all, there is really not much honour, my dear fellow, in being
made accomplice in a forgery. But we must contrive to answer all that
to our consciences. Go now and get ready to start. In an hour you shall
receive Herr Simon's letter. You will be obliged to suppress the
envelope, which may not bear the correct stamp."

"No need even of that, for I received a letter from New Orleans
yesterday, and its envelope will serve your purpose admirably. It
followed me to Plagnitz from my former place of abode, and will explain
my desire to leave here as soon as possible: of course I am in a hurry
to hand over her property to Frau von Osternau."

"Bravo! and now to business."

Two hours later Storting was on his way to the nearest railway-station,
with a letter from Carl Johann Simon, New Orleans, Louisiana, U. S. A.,
and an order upon the banking-house of A. C. Ernau & Co., Berlin, in
his pocket.

                             CHAPTER XXVII.
                        A MISCHIEVOUS COQUETTE.

The morning after Storting's departure, Egon received a visit from the
vivacious little Ostrowko doctor, who declared that he could not be
responsible for the consequences if his patient persisted in neglecting
his instructions. "I distinctly told you, my dear Herr von Ernau, that
rest was all that you required, that rest you must have, and what has
been your course? Instead of remaining where you certainly were very
well off, and with a charming _châtelaine_ to attend to your every
wish, you jolt off over here, along an infernal road, a few hours
after I leave you, and, I make no doubt, purpose to inspect your estate
to-day. Not at all, not at all, my dear Herr von Ernau. You have had a
shock to your system. Great as was your escape, 'tis no joke falling
from the Dombrowker Pass, and you must be quiet. You've a fine library
here, and a magnificent grand piano: sit still, read some trashy
romance, and play Offenbach for the next week, and leave your estate in
the hands of your admirable inspector,--Storting is his name? What! he
has gone to Berlin for a time? Well, the younger fellow--I forget his
name--is quite competent, with old Sieveking to direct. I am going to
see that, now we have got you here at Plagnitz, we keep you from any
ill effects of your accident, or you'll be saying that the climate does
not agree with you, and you'll be running off to Berlin. Aha! I know
you young fellows. I was young myself not a hundred years ago."

And he rattled on, until he had indeed fully convinced his patient that
rest was an admirable remedy for many ailments.

Egon was doomed, then, to a time of inaction, and this just when he was
most eager to enter upon the supervision of his affairs. Still, there
might be much to interest him in these first days at home, and he
resigned himself with the best grace that he could to refrain from
riding, driving, or any long walks for a while, according to the
doctor's orders.

The degree of order and method which prevailed everywhere at Plagnitz
delighted him, and no less was he pleased, when he sauntered through
the fields in the immediate vicinity of the manor-house, with the
kindly courtesy of those of his people whom he met, and who greeted the
master without a trace of that slavish servility so frequently
to be found in the Polish-German provinces, and so odious to Egon.
Day-labourers and grooms took off their hats to him, but did not, half
kneeling, offer to kiss his hand, as is the invariable custom
elsewhere; nor were they at all embarrassed in the intelligent replies
which they made to his inquiries concerning their various occupations.
To the master's great satisfaction, he perceived that there pervaded
Plagnitz an air of freshness and freedom beyond what was enjoyed upon
most other large estates of the province; the people were treated like
human beings, not like slaves, and, in consequence, manifested an
interest and vivacity almost unknown to the ordinary imbruted Polish
labourer. Here old Sieveking's influence had been admirable, and all
that Egon had thought lacking upon his previous visit to Plagnitz had
been largely supplied by Storting's diligence and experience.

A young man presented himself as the bailiff, Hensel, and modestly
asked permission to show Herr von Ernau through the farm-buildings and
to give him any desired information concerning them. When Egon accepted
his offer, he showed himself so intelligent and well informed in all
matters pertaining to his special province, that the master of Plagnitz
was even more than ever impressed with the faithful care taken of his
estate during his absence by old Sieveking, who, although he could not
entirely fulfil the requirements of a disciple of the modern school of
agriculture, had yet prepared an excellent foundation for the new
methods which Egon hoped to introduce with Storting's assistance.

Even the slight inspection which he thus made, on the first day of his
residence in his home, was condemned by the little doctor on his next
visit. He declared that for a week at least nothing in the way of
out-of-door exercise must be attempted. "As much fresh air as you
please, my dear Herr von Ernau, but taken by an open window, or seated
on your terrace, whence the prospect should surely content you for a
while."

This enforced repose was particularly irritating to Egon just at the
present time. The delicious weather lured him into the open air; he was
feverishly desirous of beginning the work for which he had been
preparing for four long years, and to sit quietly gazing abroad over
his fields and meadows, at the groups of labourers, among whom he
longed to be, was almost intolerable.

If Storting had only been at home he could have conversed with him. But
he was entirely alone; old Sieveking was too ill and feeble to be
disturbed, and young Hensel, although excellent in his way, was
entirely unavailable for purposes of conversation that did not bear
upon his vocation.

His only consolation during these wearisome days was the fine grand
piano which he had had sent to Plagnitz from Berlin. During his years
of study he had rather neglected his music, and he now found in it all
the delight it had formerly given him. His feverish restlessness was
soothed by giving it musical expression; as of old, he was able to
forget himself in the world of harmony.

He was seated thus at his instrument, on the fourth afternoon after his
arrival at Plagnitz; the last chords of a wild rhapsody had just died
away, and his fingers were wandering over the keys in a dreamy
fantasia, half memory, half hope. Lost in his fancies, he did not hear
a footman announce an arrival, or the sound of footsteps in the room
behind him. He suddenly seemed aware of a soft sigh near him; he turned
hastily and gazed into a pair of dark eyes. At first he saw Bertha
only; but she was not alone, behind her stood Wangen and Clara.

"If the mountain will not come to us, we must come to the mountain,"
Wangen said, with a laugh, holding out his hand. "You must not think us
too eager to thrust ourselves upon you, Herr von Ernau, in coming thus
soon to see how the patient is faring, since the doctor tells us that
he may receive visits, although he can pay none."

Involuntarily Egon passed his hand across his eyes, as if to banish the
vision of the moment. Yes, this was reality. Here was no Bertha von
Massenburg, but Frau von Wangen, with her husband, and the charming
child with whom he had exchanged a few words at Linau; and he was the
lord of Plagnitz, whose duty it was to welcome his guests and pray
pardon for having at first been unaware of their entrance.

Hugo von Wangen laughed in his good-humoured way. "We stood behind you
listening for a minute," he said. "I do not think anything short of an
earthquake would have aroused you when we first came in, you were so
absorbed. We ought to ask pardon for disturbing you. My wife would not
let me come alone, as I thought of doing. She was too anxious, she
said, to see how the patient was getting on."

What was there for Egon to do but to express his gratitude to madame,
and to kiss the fair hand extended to him, while declaring his pleasure
in welcoming beneath his roof both Frau and Fräulein von Wangen?

These formalities concluded, the visitors took seats, and a very lively
talk ensued. Bertha was positively charming; she dwelt just long enough
upon her anxiety lest the drive from Linau should have proved too much
for Herr von Ernau, and was so easy and cordial that she banished all
feeling of restraint from the conversation, which soon turned to Herr
von Wangen's favourite theme, agriculture. All the party regretted
Egon's inability to act as their guide in an inspection of so famous an
estate as Plagnitz, which Wangen had never before visited. In especial
was he desirous to see a certain wonderful breed of sheep. Of course,
Egon proposed that his bailiff, Herr Hensel, should act as his guest's
cicerone in default of his own companionship, and Wangen eagerly
accepted the proposal, after consulting his wife by a glance.

Herr Hensel was summoned, and was much honoured by the office intrusted
to him. He asked whether the ladies also might not perhaps be
interested in the sheepstalls, which were constructed upon an entirely
new plan. Frau von Wangen declined to accompany her husband, but Clara
gladly arose to go with her brother and Herr Hensel: she took all a
country girl's interest in sheep and cows.

Wangen seemed a little disconcerted by this arrangement; he was in his
heart reluctant to leave his wife alone to the fascinations of her old
admirer. He could not possibly let this be known, however,--Bertha
would have laughed at his foolish jealousy. Nevertheless, he felt far
from comfortable when Bertha added her approval of Clara's intention,
saying, "Do go, my dear Clara, and take note of all the improvements,
which we may be able to introduce at Linau." He could not, without
making himself ridiculous, insist upon Clara's staying behind; she was
already hanging upon his arm, and he quietly followed Herr Hensel.

For the first time in his life Egon was alone with Bertha. Even at
Castle Osternau they had never met except in the presence of some
member of the family, and there was a vague sense in his mind of wrong
done to his ideal by this _tête-à-tête_, although he had done nothing
to bring it about; it was purely accidental. In fact, the young man's
mind had been, during the past four days, so continually filled with
thoughts of Lieschen, he had so constantly recalled her every look and
word of former years, the restlessness that possessed him had been so
largely caused by his anxiety to hear from Storting, and had been so
much more keenly felt since he was forbidden to allay it by physical
exertion or hard mental effort, that he was not as open as it was his
wont to be to the impression of the moment; it cost him some pains to
prevent his imagination from driving present realities from his mind.
Therefore, for some time after they were thus left alone, the
conversation was of a quite indifferent character; and yet how
exquisitely lovely she was as she sat opposite him, with a gentle smile
hovering upon her charming mouth! How sweet and tender was her voice
as, at last, after a pause, she leaned towards him, her eyes seeking
and holding his, and asked, softly, "Herr von Ernau, are you still
angry with me?"

Honestly, Egon did not understand why she should ever have thought him
angry, and honestly he rejoined, "Why should I be angry with you,
madame?"

She blushed slightly as she said, sadly, "Ah, yes, I see you are still
angry. You persist in dwelling upon the past, although I begged you to
forget it. Yet can we forget? I cannot practise what I would enjoin
upon you. The consciousness of the wrong I did you has robbed me of
rest since I last saw you. I long to hear you say that you forgive me.
I came to-day with Herr von Wangen, hoping for this opportunity, which
accident has given me, to entreat you not to add to all that is hard
and cruel in my lot by withholding your forgiveness for the past.
Believe me, I have suffered in listening to the dictates of prudence,
rather than to the voice of my heart."

She would have gone on, quite charmed with her own eloquence,
absolutely fancying herself thrown away upon her idolizing husband,
playing a part which had presented itself as most attractive to the
shallow imaginings of her idle hours, but that something in Egon's face
arrested the words upon her lips; she paused and waited for his reply.

In truth, while she had been speaking, Egon's thoughts had been hardly
such as it would have pleased her to divine. Yes, she was incomparably
lovely; he saw it all,--the dark, pleading glance, the wonderful grace
of every movement; but how, he was asking himself, had he ever thought
it possible to find his other self in this woman? How well he had known
her kind in days gone by! Fate had been only too good to her in
bringing her the devotion of so honest and single-hearted a man as Hugo
von Wangen. He had surrounded her life with luxury and affection, and
she had neither the heart to return his love, nor the mind to
appreciate it. How false, how shallow she was! And his memory conjured
up another face and another voice. 'There is nothing which I so detest
as false words and false seeming.' His mind wandered from the present
for an instant; but Bertha was silent, he must answer her, and, little
fitted as he felt himself to play the part of a moralist, the thought
of Wangen, so cordial in his kindness to his new neighbour, lent an
additional coolness to his words:

"I assure you, madame, that I never imagined that I had the smallest
right to feel myself in any way aggrieved by your conduct. All who know
Hugo von Wangen can well understand how happy a woman she must be upon
whom he bestows the treasure of his devotion. Let me repeat your kind
advice to me when first I met you at Linau: Forget the past; we have to
do with the present and the future."

The expression of Bertha's face as he spoke was not pleasant to see;
the pathetic lines about her mouth vanished, her eyes lost their
gentle, pleading look. The change was so sudden that it rather
disconcerted Egon, who was immensely relieved by hearing footsteps in
the corridor and by the rather hurried entrance of Clara, eager to tell
her sister-in-law of all she had lost in not joining Hugo and herself.
The girl was followed immediately by her brother, whose first glance,
always for his wife, took note of her embarrassment, and then sought
Egon's face, where also, he thought, he discerned signs of confusion.
All his jealous suspicions, vague as they were, and therefore all the
more tormenting, sprang to life. He tried his best to follow the lead
of his host and talk with interest of the Plagnitz cattle and the
various improvements in stalls and stables. It was of no use;
conversation would no longer run in easy grooves, and all were rather
glad than otherwise when the time for the departure of the guests
arrived.

When their carriage was announced, Egon would have escorted them to it,
but this Wangen would in no wise permit. The doctor had expressly told
him, he said, that Herr von Ernau must avoid all exertion for a while
and keep his room. Bertha added her words to his to prevent their
host's accompanying them down into the hall, and even Clara sagely
observed that if Herr von Ernau were not careful he never would be able
to come to Linau shortly as he had promised.

Egon went to the window to wave a farewell to his guests, when he
observed the young girl, who had taken her place on the back seat of
the barouche, suddenly spring out of it again. "I have forgotten my
parasol!" she called up to Egon.

The footman, who had been helping the visitors to get into their
carriage, would have gone back for it, but with a "Never mind, I will
get it myself," she ran into the house and up the stairs. The next
instant she stood, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, beside Egon,
and said hurriedly, in a low voice, "I left it on purpose, because I
wanted to say something to you, Herr von Ernau. The doctor, I know,
told Hugo yesterday that you could not drive to Linau before Monday,
but you must come before. You are perfectly well, promise me to come on
Saturday at the farthest,--to-day is Monday. Oh, you can easily come
before, or on, Saturday, if you drive slowly."

"Why must I promise you to come 'before, or on, Saturday,' little
Clara?"

"Oh, because I want you to come so much that I can hardly wait for the
time to pass."

"Oh, I am not vain enough to believe that."

The girl laughed merrily.

"Indeed! Well, there is somebody, at all events, who does want to see
you, I know, and I must not tell you who it is, because I promised not
to. But I did not promise not to beg you to come before Sunday. Oh, you
must, or it will be too late. Adieu, Herr von Ernau! Here is my
parasol; they are waiting for me. Remember, before Sunday!"

She hurried away, and waved her hand, flourishing her parasol, from the
carriage, as it drove out of the court-yard.

Egon stood a long while at the window, gazing after the carriage as it
disappeared. What had he just heard? Had Bertha made that innocent
child her messenger, her tool, in the idle flirtation with which she
would fain employ her empty hours? Yes, she was indeed false and
shallow; and good, kindly Wangen deserved a better fate. What had
become of the magical charm which Bertha von Massenburg's beauty had
exercised over the Egon of former days? He thought of her almost with
aversion. Nevertheless, he must return the visit that had been paid
him; kindly relations with Linau must be preserved.

                            CHAPTER XXVIII.
                          CLARA TO THE RESCUE.

The afternoon was delightful, the setting sun glorious in the crimson
splendour of the west, but the elder members of the party driving home
to Linau through the warm summer air were scarcely in the mood to enjoy
it. Wangen was annoyed at what he declared to himself were groundless
suspicions of his beautiful wife; he tried to atone for them by
redoubled tenderness in his manner when he addressed her, and this very
tenderness irritated Bertha, in her consciousness of failure in her
first attempt to vary the monotony of her existence by what she assured
herself should be but an innocent flirtation,--merely a piece of
feminine vengeance upon the man who had so insulted her vanity in years
gone by. Clara, indeed, rattled away about the various delights of
Plagnitz, winding up her eulogium of its lord, however, with a heavy
sigh.

"If my darling Elise could but have been with us!" she exclaimed. "And
now she may never see it! Oh, Bertha, how could you be so unkind to
her? I know that it is all because of your bitter speeches that she is
going to leave us on Sunday. Why do you not love her? Why can we not
all be happy together?"

To this question Bertha deigned no reply, and Hugo said, rather
sadly,--

"I too, dearest Bertha, should have been glad to have kept Fräulein
Elise with us. But perhaps she is right. You two are like fire and
water, and since she has so advantageous an offer, and can be so near
her poor mother, I have nothing to say, only I am greatly mistaken if
you do not wish for her many a time after she has left us."

"You know, Hugo, I cannot agree with you in your estimate of Elise. She
has always disliked me, and of course I see her from my point of view.
Before she came, everything that I did was right in your eyes; her
presence irritates me, and leads you to criticise and object to what I
do and say; in short, I cannot be sorry that she leaves us on Sunday."

The sun was just disappearing as Linau was reached. Hugo and Bertha
betook themselves to the balcony, and Clara went in search of her dear
Elise, guessing correctly where she should find her. At the farthest
end of the extensive garden at the back of the old manor-house of
Linau, just where it was separated from the road that divided it from
the meadows beyond by an old-fashioned picket-fence, there stood,
concealed among the luxuriant shrubbery, a shady arbour, which was
reached by a narrow pathway among the tall bushes bounding the garden
on one side. This arbour had formerly been a favourite retreat of old
Herr von Wangen; from it he could see far over his meadows and fields;
here he was wont to sit with his pipe and book through the long summer
hours, overlooking his people at work; and hence it had come to be
called 'the master's arbour.' After his death the shrubs and bushes
about it were allowed to grow more rankly, so as almost entirely to
conceal it, for his son did not like to sit here; he preferred to ride
out over his estate, to visit his labourers; and his young wife would
have thought it excessively tiresome to spend any time on a wooden
bench in this lonely spot, when she might be lounging in a luxurious
chair on her favourite balcony.

But for Elise this arbour was a delightful retreat,--she liked to teach
Clara here, sure of freedom from all interruption,--and here Clara
found her after the wonderful visit to Plagnitz. She was in the midst
of writing a long letter, and the child's presence might have been more
welcome at another time, but she responded affectionately to her
pupil's enthusiastic caress; not for the world would she have grieved,
by any show of a desire to be alone, the girl whom she had grown to
love dearly.

Clara's talkative gaiety, however, seemed to have exhausted itself upon
the homeward drive. She sat down beside her governess, and gazed
thoughtfully from the leafy opening of the window in the little arbour
abroad over the fields and meadows in the direction where in the unseen
distance lay Castle Plagnitz. She was silent for a long while, and
then, suddenly turning to Elise, she exclaimed,--

"You do not know how dearly I love you!"

"Oh, yes, I do, dear child; I know your warm little heart very well."

"But indeed you cannot dream how much I care for you. I did not know it
myself. And how can I bear to have you leave us forever on Sunday?"

"I must go, Clara."

"I suppose you must, for Bertha does not love you; she does not know
you. But, oh! Elise, why would you not let me tell Herr von Ernau that
you are here, and that you are going away on Sunday?"

"Clara!"

"Yes, Elise; it grieves me to the very heart that you have no
confidence in me. I am not such a child that I do not see and
understand a great deal more than you think I do. You might confide in
me."

"What could I confide in you, Clara?"

"You might have told me how much you cared for Herr von Ernau."

Elise blushed crimson and uttered another indignant "Clara!" but the
girl threw her arms around her, and, undeterred, continued, "Oh, your
blush betrays you! You need tell me nothing; I knew it all before. I
love you so much that I saw it in your dear, beautiful face,--in your
eyes. I knew it when you recognized him as he lay, pale and bleeding,
in the hall. I saw it in your happy look when Hugo told us that his
wound was not dangerous. And then I asked Hugo, and begged him to tell
me when he and you had known Herr von Ernau, and he told me all about
how he had been in disguise at Castle Osternau, and had given you
music-lessons. Oh, I know it all, and a great deal more!"

"Much more than it is right that you should," Elise said, gravely.

"No, just enough to let me show you that I am not such a child as you
think me, and that, at all events, I am old enough to have plans and
schemes of my own. I was very glad to go to Plagnitz to-day, and I
enjoyed my visit there very much."

"Clara, you did not forget----"

"No, you need not be anxious. I promised you that I would not even
mention your name, and I shall keep my promise, although I cannot see
why you made me give it. But I shall find some way to let Herr von
Ernau know that you are here without breaking my word. My mind is made
up, and I tell you so, because I never mean to deceive you."

"Clara, promise me, if you love me, to do nothing."

"Oh, it is just because I love you that I will make you no more
promises. I have learned wisdom."

From the manor-house came the clear tones of the bell ringing for the
evening meal.

"There goes the bell!" Clara exclaimed. "We must hurry to be in time. I
am glad we can stay here no longer, for I do not wish to say another
word. My mind is made up, and I feel much pleased with myself."

With a laugh she left the arbour and tripped along the path towards the
house. Elise slowly followed her; she needed a few moments of solitude
to evoke some order in the wild confusion of thought caused by Clara's
words. She trembled as she reflected upon the possibility of seeing
again him upon whom her mind had dwelt for four long years, and who had
occupied her thoughts ceaselessly during these last days and nights.
How she dreaded meeting him! and yet, in thinking of such a meeting, a
strange, sweet hope stirred within her which she herself refused to
recognize.

                             CHAPTER XXIX.
                         CLARA DEA EX MACHINÂ.

Never during the past four years had Egon been so lonely, never had he
felt so deserted, so miserable and dissatisfied, as during the first
ten days of his residence at Plagnitz. Everything combined to make his
mood of the gloomiest. He was not ill, and yet he was not perfectly
well. The doctor now permitted him to take short walks, but had exacted
from him a promise that he would curb his impatience to take more
exercise until the next week. There was nothing for him to do, after
walking through a field or two, but to return to his room and take up a
book or sit down at the piano.

Could he only have given entire attention to his book, or have become
absorbed in his music,--but this was impossible. After he had
determinedly read a page or two his rebellious thoughts would wander
back to old times at Castle Osternau, or fly after Storting in his
travels, or try to peer into the future. And it was just the same when
he sat down at his piano: before long his hands would drop listlessly
from the keys, and he would resign himself to profitless and cheerless
musings.

After the visit of the Wangens he was, if possible, more uncomfortable
than before; he was annoyed to feel any restraint in his intercourse
with Linau. Bertha's presence, too, had made old memories more vivid
than ever. Where, where was Lieschen? He had received only one brief
letter from Storting, in Berlin. Frau von Osternau had left the capital
a couple of weeks previously; the mistress of the house where she had
lodged could not tell him whither she had gone, and Herr von Sastrow
and his wife were unfortunately absent, travelling. Storting could do
nothing save go to Osternau, where he hoped that the pastor might tell
him what he wished to know; if this hope were disappointed, he was
resolved to apply directly to Herr Albrecht von Osternau, who would
certainly know the address to which the quarterly payment of the
widow's legal income was to be sent.

After this letter, which had been dispatched immediately before
Storting's departure for Osternau, no further news had been received
from him. His silence filled Egon with restless anxiety; he sent a
mounted messenger to the post-office three times every day, but on
Friday evening he had not yet heard that Frau von Osternau had been
found.

At last, on Saturday morning, Egon's eager expectations were
gratified,--the post-bag contained a letter addressed in Storting's
handwriting. Egon tore it open with a hand trembling with anxiety, and
read,--

"My Dear Herr Von Ernau,--Your admirable plan has been successfully
carried out, as I am most glad to inform you. I did well in going to
Osternau, where I learned from the pastor that Frau von Osternau had
established herself at Hirschberg. I instantly travelled thither, and
found the dear lady in excellent health. She was no less pleased than
amazed to see me, and when I told her the story of Herr Carl Johann
Simon and showed her his letter, she was at first quite speechless with
surprise, and then burst into tears of joy and gratitude. Evidently it
never occurred to her to doubt my account. She blessed her husband's
memory, remembered his lending the money perfectly, and that she had
remonstrated with him for his ready confidence in every one's honesty.
And then she broke forth in exclamations of delight at knowing that she
could now bring her daughter home to live with her, and that Fräulein
Lieschen need no longer sacrifice herself for her mother's sake. I only
wish that you could have witnessed the joy of which you were the
source.

"Frau von Osternau is to go with me to Berlin to take possession of her
property and have the receipt for the same duly made out and signed.
This we do to-morrow; the result of our expedition I shall tell you by
word of mouth, but I write to-day to let you know of my success, and of
a fact which you ought to know immediately. Fräulein Lieschen is at
present your neighbour; you have, without knowing it, passed a night in
the same house with her. Herr von Wangen engaged her as governess for
his young sister. In order, however, to be near her mother, she has
accepted another situation in the vicinity of Hirschberg, and is to
leave Linau next Sunday. Fortunately, there is now no need of her
accepting any situation whatever, as her mother joyfully declared. It
seems rather odd--does it not?--that you should neither have seen
Fräulein Lieschen nor heard of her presence in Linau when you were
there; but then your accident probably chased everything else from the
minds of your hosts. I thought it my duty to let you know immediately
that Fräulein Lieschen leaves Linau on Sunday, thinking that you may be
able to drive over and see her on Saturday afternoon, if this reaches
you, as it should do, on the morning of that day."

Egon dropped the letter; he could not read further; the last lines
danced before his eyes. Lieschen was in Linau! for only one day longer,
it is true, but this day was his own. What did he care for the
physician's prohibition? He must drive to Linau; every moment of delay
was an opportunity lost.

Lieschen in Linau! She had been his nurse that night; it was her lovely
face of which he had been aware in his semi-consciousness; her cool,
gentle hand had been laid upon his forehead; she had leaned over him in
anxious hope for his return to life. His dream, had been no dream,
after all.

And he had supposed that Bertha had cared for him so kindly! He
rejoiced that he owed nothing to her nursing. He could not think of her
save with a sensation akin to dislike. Her charm was utterly gone. Why
had she concealed from him that Lieschen was beneath her roof? No one
had even hinted at her presence there. But yes, Clara! Egon suddenly
comprehended the child's parting words to him, words which he had
understood falsely: 'There's somebody, at all events, who does want
to see you.' She had flown back to say this to him unheard by her
sister-in-law.

Oh, he understood it all,--the _ennui_ of the woman trained to live in
the whirl of society and stranded in her quiet home, knowing 'so ill to
deal with time' as to turn for excitement to an idle flirtation with
the first man available, and dreading lest another should interfere
with her schemes. But it was not too late to baffle them.

To Linau then! He went himself to the stables to order the horses put
to a light hunting-wagon. The coachman could not obey his orders
quickly enough. Anton shook his head over his master's impatience,
while to Egon every moment that passed seemed an irreparable loss.

At last he found himself seated behind his spirited horses; but Anton
did not drive fast enough; his master took the reins from him, and
urged the pair to their quickest speed. To him they seemed to travel at
a snail's pace. On they flew; not until Anton ventured to call his
attention to their condition did he bethink himself that there really
was no need for such urgent haste. The servant's words recalled his
resolve to exercise self-control, to curb the impulse of the moment,
and he gave back the reins to his coachman's hands.

The way seemed to stretch out infinitely, but at last Linau appeared,
half hidden in trees, on the summit of a gentle incline. A quarter of
an hour would bring them to its court-yard, but Egon was forced to curb
his impatience and to order the coachman to rein in his horses. This he
did in obedience to the flutter of a white kerchief waved by a graceful
horsewoman who came galloping across-country towards him. It was Clara,
who had seen him from a distance and thus signalled him to await her
approach. The high-road was separated from the meadows bounding it on
one side by a tolerably wide and deep ditch, but this was no obstacle
for Clara; her pretty little mare took it at a leap, and in a minute
its rider drew up beside the light wagon. With sparkling eyes she
greeted Egon, saying, with a confidential nod, "You have come at last,
Herr von Ernau! I expected you yesterday and the day before, as poor
old Jost knows to his cost," and she pointed with her riding-whip to
the old groom, who had followed her and was riding about on the other
side of the ditch, looking for a narrow place at which to cross it.

"You expected me, Fräulein Clara?"

"Of course. I considered that you promised me to come before Sunday,
and therefore on the day before yesterday and yesterday I rode about
the fields here at the time when I thought you would appear, looking
out for you. If you had not come now, I was going to send my old Jost
to Plagnitz to remind you to keep your promise this afternoon, and, if
the worst came to the worst, I should have gone and brought you over
myself, for I was determined that come you must to-day."

"If I am right in my conjecture," Egon said, very gravely, "you wished
me to come to Linau to-day because Fräulein von Osternau leaves it
to-morrow."

Clara dropped her bridle and clapped her hands. "Oh, this is
delightful!" she exclaimed. "You know that Elise is here! I have never
told you, and now my silly promise not to tell you binds me no longer."

"To whom did you make this promise?"

"Why, to Elise, of course. But you need not look so cast down, Herr von
Ernau. I'm sure she felt sorry that she allowed herself to be so
influenced by Bertha's ill-natured words as to make me promise. I was
determined that you should know that my darling Elise is here, for if
you knew her long ago at Castle Osternau, I am sure you must want to
see her again."

"Does Fräulein von Osternau know that you expect me?"

"Of course not. That would have spoiled it all. I took good care not to
tell her. It is all a little plan of my own. Elise never tells me
anything; she thinks me nothing but a child, but I can see in her eyes
how glad she would be to see Herr von Ernau again. But indeed there is
no time to go on talking. Tell me, honestly and frankly, Herr von
Ernau, do you come to Linau to-day to see Elise?"

"Honestly and frankly then, my dear little Clara, yes."

"And for that only?"

"Yes."

"And would you like to see her now, just when she is alone and
expecting nobody?"

"That is just what I desire beyond all else."

"Then you must not drive on to Linau, but follow me on foot. We will
let your carriage wait, lest it should betray us. Get out, Herr von
Ernau, and I will show your coachman a spot where he can wait for you
without exciting any one's attention. Let him drive along that path
that skirts the fields, and he will find a cool, shady place on the
edge of the forest, where the horses will not tire of standing."

Egon did as he was bidden; and, while his coachman obeyed the young
girl's directions, his master walked beside Clara's horse as she slowly
rode along the highway towards Linau. Old Jost, who had managed to
cross the ditch, followed at a respectful distance.

Clara was in the gayest mood, enchanted that her charming plan, which
she had contrived entirely by herself, was on the eve of being so
successfully carried out, without any necessity on her part of breaking
the promise made to Elise. She never asked what happy chance had
informed Egon of Elise's presence at Linau; it was enough for her that
he knew of it, and that she had not been forced to reveal it herself.
There was no longer any secret to keep, and she ran on with a long
description of how Elise had taken such care of Herr von Ernau on the
dreadful night of the accident, and how her eyes had filled with tears
of joy when she heard the next morning that his wound was not
dangerous. Nor did she fail to dwell upon her own insight in making
sure from Elise's face, without hearing one word from her lips, that
nothing would please her more than to renew her acquaintance with Herr
von Ernau. It was so sad, too, that Bertha did not seem to care for
Elise, and that made it easier for her, Clara, to part with her. Did
Herr von Ernau know that Elise had found another situation near her
mother? For her part, Clara wished that Frau von Osternau lived near
Linau, and then, perhaps, if Bertha would only be as sweet and kind as
she was sometimes, Elise might be persuaded to stay with them. Did not
Herr von Ernau think it a real misfortune to lose so charming a person
from the neighbourhood?

In truth, Egon's mind and heart were in such a turmoil of hope and fear
that he heard but vaguely his young guide's talk. He was absolutely
conscious of but one fact, that along this road, led by this charming
child, he was on his way to see once again the fairy of Castle
Osternau, the girl who had held him captive all these years, whose
influence, established in a few short weeks, had transformed him from
an idle, weary, useless creature to a man who felt that he had a part
to play in the world, and who meant to play it to the best of his
ability. And yet, if she should refuse to stand by his side to aid him
in this new life, how dark the future looked! Could she ever pardon the
falsehood he had practised upon her and those dear to her? Clara was
obliged, to her dismay, to repeat her question before Herr von Ernau
heeded it and looked up with, "The greatest misfortune that could
befall us, my little Clara."

The warmth of the reply when it came soothed Clara's fears lest Herr
von Ernau did not fully appreciate her services in thus procuring him
an interview with her adored Elise. She went on to tell him that at
this hour on Saturday Elise was sure to be in the 'master's arbour,'
which he might now see, half hidden among the trees on their left. "And
there is a gate in the picket-fence," she added, "always kept locked;
no one goes out of the garden by it now that poor papa is dead. He
always went to the meadows that way, but I knew perfectly well where
the key was kept, and I have had it in my pocket since the day before
yesterday, all ready for just this moment. Here we are, Herr von Ernau,
and here is the key," she said, handing it down to him. "Let it stay in
the lock. I will go off with Jost for a ride, and then, after about
half an hour, when you have talked enough with Elise, I will come back
and take you to the house. I want to see how surprised they'll be when
they know that you have found Elise. Good-by, Herr von Ernau! Do not
miss the path,--the one on the left leads directly to the house, and
the one on the right to 'the master's arbour.' Good-by! I shall see you
again in half an hour."

With a merry laugh and a wave of the hand she was off at a pace at
which old Jost found it hard to follow her.

Egon unlocked the little gate, and with a beating heart struck into the
winding right-hand path. The moment that was to decide his future was
at hand; he was to see Lieschen again. Had she really, as Clara would
have given him to understand, cherished his memory kindly? Was it not
more likely that the child's insight had been utterly at fault, and
that his image had long since been banished from the mind and heart of
one go pare, so true, to whom all disguise was hateful?

And now the little arbour, about which the vines hung heavily, making
the closing of its rustic door quite impossible, was just before him.
How quiet it all was! Suppose Clara was wrong, and that upon pushing
wide that door he should find nothing but solitude. He paused for a
moment, half afraid to go on, and as he did so there fell on his ear
the low tones of the voice which he knew so well, singing softly the
words of the old Folksong--

                 "In Olden forest stands a tree."

It was the first he had ever sung at Castle Osternau. He saw it all
again,--the good old Herr in his arm-chair, the sweet face of his wife
as she sat beside him knitting, and Lieschen's eyes gazing in rapture
at the singer. For an instant memory wellnigh unmanned him, but that
she should be singing just that song gave him for encouragement than he
was himself aware of; he gently pushed open the door. Yes it was she.
She sat half turned from him, her hands resting in her lap upon the
embroidery with which she had been occupied, her gaze fixed upon the
distant landscape, visible through an opening in the vines and
shrubbery. The door had swung noiselessly, she did not look towards it.
"Lieschen!" It was all. She started and turned towards him a face from
which all colour departed, only to return in an instant and mantle
neck, cheeks, and brow in crimson. "Herr von Ernau!--I--" Then, burying
her face in her hands, she burst into an uncontrollable fit of weeping.
In an instant Egon was beside her, at her feet, pouring forth
protestations, vows, entreaties for pardon.

"My love, my darling, can you ever forgive me for deceiving you as I
did? I have no right to ask it, still less to hope that you can, and
yet I do hope. Your memory has been the light of my life since I left
Berlin, four years ago; the though of you and of your words spurred me
on to begin a new existence, it gave me strength in all my struggles
with self, and, oh! Lieschen, take pity upon me. The future will be so
cheerless without you. Complete your work, dear. Try to make me of some
use in the world. You have suffered, my darling; I know it all. Let me
shield you in future, at least from suffering alone. Can you forgive me
and heed my pleadings, for the sake of the love I bear you, which will
always be yours, and yours only, whatever may be your answer to me
now?"

Elise did not speak, but her sobs ceased; she let her lover wipe away
her tears, and read her answer in her eyes.

                              CHAPTER XXX.
                              CONCLUSION.

Meanwhile, on this particular day, Hugo von Wangen had been taking a
long ride to a distant part of his estate. He had asked Clara to
accompany him, quite despairing of inducing Bertha to leave her
luxurious balcony and mount a horse, but, to his surprise, his young
sister had declared that she was far too busy, and that a short ride
across the fields with Jost was all she should allow herself. His
expedition had been a successful one. The improvements which he had set
on foot in the way of drainage of outlying meadows answered his
expectations fully, and it was in a very satisfied and peaceful frame
of mind that he dismounted at a short distance from his home, and,
ordering the groom who had accompanied him to ride to the stables with
his horse, undertook a short ramble on foot through the fields bounding
his garden. The sun was hot overhead, and he gladly sought the cool
shade of the strip of forest on the hither side of these fields, where,
throwing himself on the soft moss, he resigned himself to reflection,
which ended in a pleasant noonday nap. He was wakened by what seemed to
him the stamping of horses. Yes, his ears did not deceive him, that was
an unmistakable neigh; there must be horses near, but how they came
here he was at a loss to divine. There was but a narrow driving road
along the edge of this bit of woodland, and it led abroad into the
fields in one direction and in the other--yes, in the other out on the
road to Plagnitz.

Why should he think of Plagnitz? The road was a highway, and led to
other estates likewise, but the fact was that the jealousy lately born
of his self-depreciation, and of his immense appreciation of his wife's
personal charms and intellectual capacity, was never quite at rest in
his mind.

He arose and walked in the direction whence the sound proceeded. Sure
enough, on the edge of the forest, drawn up in the shade beside the
narrow roadway, stood a light, elegant vehicle, and harnessed to it
were two fine horses, which he well remembered to have seen in the
Plagnitz stalls. The coachman, too, who had made himself as comfortable
as possible on his high seat, was the same fellow whom he remembered to
have noticed about the stables at Plagnitz.

But where was the master of this equipage? and why had Herr von Ernau
transgressed the physician's orders by this early visit? The answer to
the latter question was plain: Herr von Ernau had never forgotten his
former love for Bertha von Massenburg, and he was willing to run all
risks to enjoy the society of Frau von Wangen. Poor Hugo! his jealousy
was no melodramatic passion, but a very uncomfortable, uneasy sensation
that quite poisoned his morning's enjoyment. He had entire confidence
in his wife's honour, but was not so sure of her discretion; at all
events, it 'was confoundedly irritating to think of Von Ernau spending
his idle time at Linau, singing his songs and discussing with my wife
all the books, in which I never could take the smallest interest. We
were very happy before the fellow came.' These were Von Wangen's
thoughts as he tried to find some reason for Egon's leaving his
equipage at this point, if he had really come to pay a visit at Linau.
He walked on to the road, and was about to jump the picket-fence at the
bottom of the garden, when he perceived that the key was in the lock of
the little gate. It puzzled him to know how it came there. Had it
anything to do with Ernau's visit? He opened the gate, and then
remembered the winding path to 'the master's arbour.' Surely the lord
of Plagnitz was not being received there by the fair lady of Linau. The
idea was ridiculous, and yet, instead of taking the left-hand path
leading to the house, he walked slowly along that on the right, at the
end of which stood the rustic structure. As he approached it, the door,
which had partly closed again after Egon's entrance, prevented any view
of the interior, but surely those were the tones of a man's voice that
struck upon his ear; he advanced more quickly, his steps quite
inaudible on the soft moss of the path, when, just as he was about to
enter the half-closed door, the same voice, which he had continued to
hear, said, in a tone of fervent affection, "Lieschen, dearest
Lieschen----" Wangen turned and positively fled, quite dazzled and
confused by the light that suddenly dawned upon him, and yet filled
with a sense of relief for which he could hardly have accounted to
himself. But what would Bertha say? She must have been mistaken in that
idea of hers with regard to Ernau's affection for herself; yes,
entirely mistaken. And affairs at Osternau must have gone further
between the Candidate and his pupil than any one suspected. Now he came
to think of it, all the evidence of Ernau's sudden passion for Bertha
had been given by Werner von Massenburg, whose word, as his son-in-law
had had frequent opportunities of discovering, was not always to be
received with implicit faith. Really this was a delightful ending of
affairs, for, as for Bertha's opinion of Fräulein Lieschen, it was all
the consequence of those old Osternau misunderstandings. Never could
he, Hugo von Wangen, believe that the daughter of his kind old friend
was any other than she seemed,--a dear, gentle, unselfish girl. Oh,
Bertha would see it all now, and she could not but rejoice, for the
sake of Clara, for whom she certainly was beginning to care as a sister
should, that Fräulein Lieschen was to be their neighbour at Plagnitz.

Filled with these thoughts, he reached his home, and sought his wife
where he was sure to find her,--not however, so much bored as usual,
for she was engaged in reading a long letter from her father, which
contained an enclosure for her husband, the contents of which Hugo was
at no loss to divine.

"What have you to tell me, Hugo? your smile is positively beatific. Has
your last purchase of cattle turned out a wonderful bargain, or is the
wheat crop on the east meadow twice as heavy as you supposed it would
be?"

Hugo laughed good-humouredly; he cared nothing for the pin-pricks of
his wife's ridicule. "Oh, better than all that, my darling, although
both your suppositions are correct. Circe has gained possession of her
victim."

"What do you mean? Nothing short of insanity, Hugo, can drive you to
mythology."

"I'm only quoting you, Bertha; when I wish to be convincing I always do
so. Herr von Ernau has found his way over here in spite of the doctor,
and I played eavesdropper involuntarily just now at the door of 'the
master's arbour,' and can assure you that Fräulein Lieschen will not go
very far away from Linau. For my part I am delighted, and so will you
be, dear child, when you get over the remembrance of old times and your
fancied dislike of Fräulein Lieschen. Think what an advantage it is to
have such neighbours at Plagnitz! Clara will, I am afraid, spend half
her time there."

Bertha had listened in bewildered dismay to her husband's words. How
had this result, against which she had schemed, been brought about? How
could she endure to have the Lieschen whom she had always detested
carry off the prize which she had failed to win? It was scarcely to be
hoped that a daughter of Werner von Massenburg's should submit with a
good grace to be thus foiled. And yet she was not all worthless. We
must leave her, in hopes that Lieschen's unconscious influence may in
time assert itself here, as it had so often done elsewhere. Frau von
Wangen was assuredly shrewd enough and self-controlled enough, as we
have seen, to be outwardly all that could be desired and quite equal to
the occasion.

What need to tell of the happiness that reigned in future years at
Plagnitz? In Lieschen's joys and in Lieschen's children Frau von
Osternau lived over again her own peaceful existence at Osternau. Egon
had found that for which he had so thirsted; the discontent and folly
of his early time seemed to him like some evil dream, the very memory
of which was dispelled by the clear light of love and truth shining in
his wife's eyes.

                                THE END.

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