"Oh, I know you agree with him! Now, confess honestly that you think me a spoiled child, or rather do not confess it, or we shall be sure to quarrel. Let me tell you more. Werner told Fraulein Muller that at Castle Hohenwald she would be cut off from all social intercourse, that she could neither receive nor pay visits, and that the family circle there could not indemnify her for such seclusion, since neither papa nor Arno was an agreeable companion. In short, he painted existence here in such gloomy colours that papa said Fraulein Muller must be a very extraordinary person if she accepted such a situation. But she has accepted it. Her answer came to-day,--a very odd reply. Papa and Arno, as well as Werner, shook their heads over it. They could not make it out. So it is no wonder that I cannot comprehend it either. I have brought it to you to read, that you may tell me what you think of it."

"You have brought me the letter?" Kurt asked, in surprise.

"Why, yes; I know you always tell me the truth when I ask you for it, and when Werner gave me the letter I thought to myself, 'Herr Kurt von Poseneck shall read it;' so I kept it and brought it with me. There, read it; but be careful not to let it get wet. Wait a moment; I will hold my waterproof out so as to shield it from the rain."

Celia handed Kurt the letter and protected it with her cloak while he read it.

"An excellent hand," he said, as he opened it: "firm and clear. They say that the handwriting shows the character of the writer; if that be true, this letter should impress one greatly in Fraulein Muller's favour."

"That is just what Arno said; only he added, 'Only to be the more bitterly undeceived afterwards.' But read, read, I beg you,--I am so anxious to know what you think of the letter."

Kurt read the short note, which ran as follows:

"Dear Sir,--Your description of the life at Castle Hohenwald so perfectly accords with my wishes and inclinations that I accept with pleasure the honourable position offered me of companion and teacher to Fraulein Cecilia von Hohenwald. I shall arrive at the station at A---- by the afternoon train, at a quarter-past eight on the seventeenth, hoping to meet the carriage which you tell me will be sent for me from Hohenwald.

"With much respect,

"Anna Muller."

"Well, what do you think of it?" Cecilia asked, eagerly. "It does not seem odd to me at all. I think it simple, clear, and decided."

"But what does she mean by saying that Werner's ugly description of the life here accords with her views and inclinations? Arno says that must be a falsehood; that no girl could like such a place, and that Fraulein Muller must be a false, exaggerated person to say that she accepts such a position with pleasure. Papa thought the same; and even Werner said that the brevity of the note impressed him disagreeably, while Arno insisted that its short, decided tone, its want of all conventional courtesy, was the only thing in it to recommend it. What do you think?"

"I think we should be overhasty in adopting a prejudice against the lady upon reading her short note, which to my mind contains nothing to inspire it. Why should we distrust her declaration that the life in Castle Hohenwald is to her taste? If it were not so, could she not decline the position offered her? It certainly speaks well for her that she makes use of no stupid conventional phrases, and she shows a correct appreciation of her duties towards you, Fraulein von Hohenwald, in calling herself not your governess, but your companion and teacher.

I really cannot see any reason why you should form an unfavourable opinion of Fraulein Muller. Take my advice and receive her after your own frank, cordial fashion. Do not be swayed by your brother Arno's (pardon me) unjustifiable prejudice, but see and judge for yourself, and you will be sure to judge rightly."

"Yes, I will," Celia said, cheerfully. "I knew you would give me good counsel, and I shall follow it. But now," she continued, with a sudden gravity, "we must discuss one point which I have never ceased to think of since the letter arrived to-day. What will become of my beloved liberty? Is it not lost from the moment that Fraulein Muller arrives at Castle Hohenwald?"

"It may be somewhat restricted, and is it not perhaps best that it should be so, Fraulein von Hohenwald?"

"Ah, you are thinking again that I need a governess. You will make me seriously angry. I am not a child, and I will not have my liberty restricted! I am willing to learn. I will sit still for hours and play the piano every day, but I will not be put into leading-strings. It is not kind of you to wish it for me, Herr von Poseneck. What will become of my afternoon rides if Fraulein Muller thinks it unbecoming for a young lady to roam about the forest alone?"

Celia's words told a joint in Kurt's armour; had he not often reflected that the propriety of these rides was questionable? It was hard for him to carry out his resolve of always being frank and true towards Celia, but he did it. With a sigh, he replied, "Fraulein Muller would not be far wrong if she did think so."

Celia suddenly reined in her horse, and looking down at Kurt with eyes large with wonder, she said, in a tone expressing painful regret, "And you tell me this?"

"Yes, Fraulein Celia," and for the first time he avoided the formal Von Hohenwald; "yes, I tell you so, because I always will be honest and true to you."

Celia made no reply; she urged Pluto into a walk again, and rode beside Kurt in silence. She had never reflected whether these meetings in the forest were becoming. She had made no appointments with Kurt, but chance--no, it had not been chance entirely after the first meeting; she knew that she should meet him, but she could not reproach herself with having made any appointments. She was quite blameless. Quite? Why, then, had she never mentioned these daily meetings at home in Castle Hohenwald? Why had she never uttered the name of Kurt von Poseneck to her father or Arno, and never even said a word when Arno had casually mentioned the fact that a son of the Poseneck who had emigrated to America had returned, and was living at Grunhagen with the Amtsrath, whose heir report said he was to be? Her father, Arno, and Werner had discussed the Posenecks at some length; why had she never said a word, although she could easily have set them right upon several points?

Hitherto she had simply followed her impulse to see Kurt, whom she liked so much, daily; but now, suddenly, she became aware that something about these meetings was not just as it should be.

After a long pause, she said, dejectedly, "I think you are right, Herr Kurt; I have acted very unbecomingly; but then we never made any appointments, and it was so pleasant to meet by chance. You have told me so much to interest me, I could always listen to you for hours; but if you think it improper, I will not ride on the forest road again. It will be hard, for lately I have looked forward all the forenoon to this hour of talk with you."

The girl's childlike, innocent frankness enchanted Kurt; he yielded to an irresistible impulse to seize and kiss the hand that hung down near him. Then, startled at what he had done, he instantly dropped it, while Celia, not in the least startled, looked at him with a happy smile.

"Is it really so wrong for us to spend one short hour here every day talking together?" she asked, looking down kindly into his face.

He could not withstand the magic of her look; all the wise rules that he had laid down for himself melted in the light of her eyes like snow before the sun. "No, dearest Celia! A thousand times no!" he cried, rapturously. "I swear to you by my honour that you never shall have any cause to regret your confidence in me. I will not ask you to continue your rides,--you shall not promise me to do so,--but I will be here awaiting you every day; nothing shall prevent me. Although you should stay away for weeks, you will find me here whenever you come at this hour."

"And you shall not await me in vain," Celia replied; and as she leaned down towards him their lips met for one instant in a fleeting kiss.

Then she suddenly wheeled her horse about and was gone.

Kurt stood for a while motionless. Long after the lovely rider had vanished in the gloom he still saw her in spirit, and felt her kiss upon his lips. He hardly noticed that the rain, which had ceased for a few minutes, was pouring down with renewed violence; that a sharp wind was blowing, colder than before. He stood like one entranced in the lonely forest, and, when unconsciously he turned towards home, he never heard the howling of the tempest. Not until the bough of an oak-tree, torn off by the wind, fell directly across his path did he waken from his revery.

CHAPTER VII.

"Station A----. One minute's stop!"

The conductor hastily opened the door of a second-cla.s.s carriage and helped out a young lady, civilly handed her her travelling-bag and railway wrap, clambered into his place again, and in a few moments the train was out of sight.

The young lady was the only pa.s.senger who had left the train; therefore the gentleman who had been walking to and fro on the platform for a quarter of an hour easily recognized her as the person for whom he had been waiting. He approached her, and, raising his hat, said, courteously, "Have I the honour of addressing Fraulein Anna Muller? I am the Finanzrath von Hohenwald."

"Have you come yourself, Herr Finanzrath, in spite of this terrible weather? It is really too kind."

There was surprise as well as great satisfaction in the smile with which Werner looked at the young lady; he was in truth deeply impressed by her striking beauty.

Fraulein Muller was by no means equally pleased. She had supposed the Finanzrath to be a much older man; his fresh, smooth-shaven face looked to her very youthful, and she was not agreeably impressed by the satisfied smile with which he contemplated her.

It was but a moment that Werner devoted to his scrutiny of the lady; he now bowed even lower and more respectfully than at first, and said, with extreme politeness, "I was too much rejoiced, Fraulein Muller, that I had been able to induce you to come to Hohenwald to allow another than myself to be the first to welcome you here. Moreover, I felt it my duty to meet you, since I was the cause of your accepting a position for the difficulties of which you are perhaps not fully prepared. Before you enter Castle Hohenwald you ought to have a more vivid idea of those with whom your life there will be pa.s.sed than it was possible to give you in my short letter. I described as impartially as I could the difficulties of your position, but there is much that you should know, which I shall be able to tell you during our drive to the castle, which in this weather, and from the consequent state of the roads, must needs be a slow one. And now let me conduct you to the carriage as quickly as possible; it will, I fear, be quite late and very dark by the time we reach Hohenwald."

Then taking her travelling-bag, and offering her his arm, which after a moment's hesitation she accepted, he led her through the station-house to where a close travelling carriage was awaiting them.

The wind howled, and the rain poured in torrents. The Finanzrath was a.s.siduous in his attentions, holding his umbrella over his companion as she got into the carriage, then hurrying to see that the porter fastened her luggage securely in its place behind the carriage. Not until all was arranged to his satisfaction did he take his seat beside her in the well-cushioned vehicle. The rattling of the carriage over the stones while the road led through the town of A---- prevented all conversation, and enabled the Finanzrath to observe his companion attentively without attempting any of his promised communications.

He was impressed anew by the girl's extraordinary beauty; an expression of melancholy that vanished when she spoke, but which characterized her features in repose, made her still more attractive, while it afforded the Finanzrath--who remembered all that Frau von Adelung had hinted to him of Fraulein Muller's misfortunes--an explanation of her readiness to accept the offer of a position at Castle Hohenwald. At length the carriage left the paved streets and entered upon the country road leading to the castle. Although the wind howled about the vehicle and the rain pelted against its windows, conversation had become possible.

The Finanzrath was a clever man; it was but natural that his lively portrayal of the inmates of the castle should interest Fraulein Muller extremely. She listened eagerly, only interrupting him now and then by brief questions, which he answered readily. With an impartiality which was surely worthy of all praise, Werner entered upon a detailed account of the characteristics of his nearest relatives,--his father, his brother, and his sister; he warmly extolled their good qualities--his father's kindness of heart and simple truth, Arno's stern sense of justice, his earnestness, his industry, his varied acquirements, Celia's gay good humour and childlike simplicity; but at the same time he concealed none of their faults. As he discoursed, the daylight had vanished and darkness had succeeded the short twilight. The sky was black with clouds, and within the carriage it was so dark that Anna could scarcely see the outline of her companion's figure, although he leaned towards her as he repeatedly a.s.sured her that in him she would find a friend ready to aid her in any way during her life at the castle, and begged her to confide frankly to him any wish with which he could comply.

He said not one word that circ.u.mstances did not fully warrant, and yet Anna was excessively uncomfortable. The _tete-a-tete_ with him in the dark carriage seemed to her almost insufferable. She shrank away from him at the very time when he was speaking so gently and kindly to her that there could not be the slightest reasonable cause for her distaste of his society.

Suddenly the carriage stopped. Anna drew a long breath of relief when the Finanzrath broke off his discourse and, opening the window, asked, anxiously, "What is the matter, John? Why do you not drive on?"

"I do not know, Herr Finanzrath," a voice from the box replied, "but I think something is wrong."

"What can be wrong?" It seemed to Anna that the Finanzrath's voice trembled as he asked the question. Was he, strong man as he was, so fearful of an accident that his fear betrayed itself in his voice? The sign of weakness instantly put an end to all Anna's dread of the Finanzrath. She felt strong, indeed, in view of his timidity. No possible danger of the road in the dark night had power to alarm her.

All she had dreaded had been the _tete-a-tete_ with her companion.

The coachman did not immediately answer; he slowly descended from the box, and not until the Finanzrath asked in a tone of still greater anxiety, "What has happened, John?" did he reply, sullenly, "Nothing has happened, Herr Finanzrath, but the devil himself could not find the way in this storm; you can't see your hand before your face. I thought we had got off the road and were going towards the Grunhagen quarry, but it is all right, and we can drive on."

"No, no, don't try, for Heaven's sake, John!" the Finanzrath exclaimed, in evident terror.

"Oh, it's all right," the coachman said, with great composure. "We must drive on; we can't spend the night here in this weather."