Kurt and Celia, as soon as the voice fell upon their ears, started up from the bench, Celia looking down blushing, greatly confused, while Kurt, with anger flashing in his eyes, confronted the a.s.sessor, who, in the best of humours, did not seem to perceive how unwelcome was his presence. This first appeared to occur to him when Kurt approached him, saying sternly, "Sir, what do you mean? how dare you thus follow me without my permission?"

The a.s.sessor retreated a step, taught by the angry gleam in Kurt's eyes that his jesting remarks had been quite out of place. In much confusion he stammered, "I beg pardon; indeed nothing was farther from my intention than to intrude; I am inconsolable at having disturbed you."

The poor little man, as he shrank from Kurt's indignant glance and poured out his terrified excuses, cut so odd a figure that Celia could not help smiling, although she was anything but pleased with the present aspect of affairs. She could see that Kurt's indignation was still further aroused by the intruder's apology, and she whispered to him as gently as possible "Be calm, dearest Kurt, I pray you, for my sake."

Her words produced an instant effect. Kurt's brow grew smooth, the angry look vanished from his eyes, which sparkled strangely as he looked at Celia, and then turned with an air of sudden determination to the a.s.sessor, saying, in a much gentler tone, "It is not to me, Herr von Hahn, that you should excuse yourself, but to my betrothed, Fraulein Celia von Hohenwald." As he spoke he cast at Celia a quick glance of inquiry, afraid lest his words might offend her; but no, she did not even look surprised; an arch smile quivered about her lips for a moment, and she nodded to him a.s.sentingly.

The a.s.sessor's amazement, however, was unbounded; his large and rather prominent blue eyes grew larger and more prominent as he looked from Kurt to Celia. "Ah--really--indeed"--he stammered, bowing low--"I had no idea--I humbly beg the lady's pardon--permit me to offer my cordial congratulations--indeed--I am so surprised that I hardly know what to say."

Celia laughed; she could not help it: the flaxen little a.s.sessor was too comical; and Kurt smiled; he was no longer angry, but inexpressibly happy. Celia's hand was in his and returned his pressure. How could he be angry with the a.s.sessor, who had been the cause of his sudden resolve? "Never mind, Herr a.s.sessor," he said, kindly. "We will credit you with the most heartfelt good wishes. But"--and he suddenly changed his tone to one of grave admonition--"since chance has willed that you should be the recipient of our confidence, I must pray you not to misuse it. You know that there exists an hereditary feud between the Hohenwalds and the Posenecks, which some of the members of the families have not yet agreed to forget, therefore we, my betrothed and myself, do most earnestly enjoin upon you to be silent as to what you have learned. Any allusion to it to others would be an indiscretion for which I should be obliged to call you to account. I am sure we may rely upon you."

"Absolutely. I swear it!" the a.s.sessor eagerly replied. "Not a word shall escape my lips. I am silent as the grave!"

"I am quite sure that your promise will be kept. And now we will no longer detain you from the enjoyment of your walk. This broad road leads to Castle Hohenwald; by pursuing it until you reach three huge oaks in a group you will find a by-path on the right, which will give you a pleasant stroll through the forest and lead you out into the open, whence you will perceive Grunhagen in the distance."

The a.s.sessor bowed. Clearly he was dismissed. He would have liked to exchange a few words with his relative Celia, whose voice even he had not heard, but there was something in Kurt's manner that told him it was hardly advisable to linger here longer. In a few choice phrases he expressed to Celia his delight at this chance meeting with so charming a cousin, and his sorrow that circ.u.mstances over which he had no control would prevent him from calling upon her at the castle. Then imagining that Herr von Poseneck was growing impatient, he took his leave, turned in the direction that had been pointed out to him, and was soon out of sight.

"Are you angry with me, dearest Celia?" Kurt asked so soon as this was the case.

"Why should I be angry with you?"

"I could not help it; I had to decide on the instant what to do, and it was only by presenting you as my betrothed to the a.s.sessor that I could prevent him from speaking of having seen us."

"And why should I be angry with you? It was perfectly natural; you only said what we have both long known. I am glad you said it; I only wish I could tell my dear kind father how very, very happy I am. But," she added, with a little sigh, "it would not do,--it would not do at all; he would be terribly angry, for he does not know you, Kurt, does not know how dear and good you are, and if I should tell him we were betrothed he never would give his consent. Anna must help us. I will tell her everything to-day; she has more influence than any one else over him, and she will contrive to have you come to Hohenwald,--she is so good and so wise!"

Kurt shook his head doubtfully, but he could not shake Celia's confidence in Anna's power over the old Baron. Meanwhile it had grown late; they had been together much longer than usual. Pluto was evidently impatient; still, Celia had more to say than ever before.

Kurt put her on her horse again, and, when she begged him to turn back with her for a little way, walked slowly beside her along the broad forest road.

CHAPTER XII.

Lucie's resolve was a hard one. Castle Hohenwald was to her as a home.

The thought of leaving Celia and the old Freiherr gave her intense pain, but it must be done,--she could not stay. She had written her letter to Adele with feverish haste, almost immediately after Arno had left her; but now that it lay before her sealed and addressed she hesitated to despatch it. She shrank from so decisive a step.

Did stern duty really require of her to leave this loved asylum and brave the world again and the danger of Repuin's persecution? Here she was safe both from the Russian and from Sorr; both the old Freiherr and Arno would extend protection to her, and must she give it all up just because Arno loved her? No; not for that. Had she been sure of her own heart she might have remained. She had not felt the need of fleeing from Werner's distasteful devotion.

But Arno! She had summoned up strength to utter the words that annihilated his hopes; but she felt that in so doing she had almost exhausted her self-control. Could she have withstood his pleading a moment longer? Even while writing to Adele the thought would not be banished from her mind that she was actually free, bound by no obligation to the wretch who himself on that terrible night had sundered the tie that had linked her to him!

But could he sunder it? No; it must still remain a brazen fetter chaining her to her unworthy husband, although she were forever parted from him. As she had herself said, her marriage could not be dissolved; she was free only in spirit,--only the death of the dishonoured thief could make it possible for her to form another tie.

Her heart rebelled against so unnatural a chain; but cool reason told her that she could not disregard it without dishonour. Sorr's wife must not listen to Arno's words of affection; if she could not slay within her the love she now knew that he had awakened there, he must never know it.

The sealed letter trembled in her hand; if it were to be sent it must go instantly. From her window Lucie saw already saddled and standing in the court-yard the horse upon which the groom was to take the daily mail from the castle to A----. Frau Kaselitz stood upon the steps just about to close the post-bag. One minute more and it would be too late.

A day at least would be gained, a day for reflection, and a day, too, of imminent peril, a day in which Arno might repeat his protestations, his entreaties!

She hastily threw open the window. "Wait one moment, Frau Kaselitz; I have a letter to go!" she called out into the court-yard, and then hurried down the great staircase to the hall-door. She could not trust herself, and it was only when she had seen the groom gallop away bearing her letter with him that she breathed freely again.

The die was cast, and she could think clearly and calmly. Her strength of will returned, and she knew that she could brave any struggle which the next few days might bring her. She had regained the calm self-control that would enable her to fulfil her duties towards the Freiherr and Celia during the time she should yet remain in the castle, and this fulfilment should instantly be put into action. Celia should suspect nothing during lesson-hours of the mental agony that had so tortured her teacher.

But where was Celia? She had not made her appearance, although the time had long pa.s.sed at which she usually returned from her afternoon ride.

Lucie inquired of old John, who was on his way to the stables, and learned that Fraulein Celia was still out in the forest. She never had stayed so late before, the old man added; indeed, she had had time to ride up and down the broad forest road to Grunhagen at least twenty times. Of course that was where she was; she always rode there. John could not see why she never tired of that road. Lucie was not ill pleased to hear that the girl was still in the forest: she longed for its cool depths; and since John a.s.sured her that she could not fail to meet Fraulein Celia, she determined to go in search of her. She declined John's attendance, for she felt perfectly secure in the vicinity of the castle. Quickly tying on her hat she sallied forth.

Her walks. .h.i.therto had never extended beyond the castle garden and the park. This was her first flight into the "forest depths," from which the castle took its name. She gazed in wonder at the mighty oaks and beeches. Around her brooded the mystery of the primeval forest; in the vicinity of the castle no axe had rung a discord in the poetry of woodland life. The deep silence, broken only by the low notes of the woodland birds, harmonized with Lucie's mood; she sauntered dreamily along the path, pa.s.sing in mental review the events of the day, and particularly the struggle with herself, in which--and there was a measure of content in the consciousness--she had come off conqueror.

Lost in thought, she almost forgot that she had come out to look for Celia; her gaze wandered unconsciously over the wealth of foliage on every side of her. She did not observe, when she had reached the loneliest part of the forest, a solitary stranger walking towards her, and hastening his steps with every sign of amazement upon seeing her.

Not until he had approached her very nearly did she look up and start in terror. Could she believe her eyes? The a.s.sessor von Hahn, whose element was fashionable society, here alone in the woodland solitude?

She could not be deceived; the a.s.sessor stood before her as elegant as if bound upon a round of morning visits, staring at her out of his wide blue eyes, and twirling, as was his wont when startled or surprised, his flaxen moustache; it was indeed Herr von Hahn as large as life.

The good a.s.sessor was no less startled than was Lucie. "Is it possible?" he exclaimed; "am I awake or dreaming? Frau von Sorr here in the forest! This is a surprise indeed,--a most agreeable surprise of course. I am enchanted to meet you, madame."

As he spoke he held out his hand, and Lucie was obliged to place her own within it and to allow him to kiss it; she could not show him how unwelcome was his presence here. Of all her former acquaintances she would have preferred to have almost any one invade her retirement rather than the gossiping a.s.sessor, but she could not let him perceive this; she banished all surprise and terror from her face and said, not unkindly, "A most unforeseen meeting. I never should have expected to find you in this remote corner of Saxony, Herr von Hahn."

"My presence here is easily explained, madame. I have been transferred to A----, and, as there is scarcely any society in the tiresome little town, I beguile my leisure by visits to the neighbouring gentry. I am at present enjoying the Amtsrath Friese's hospitality, in Grunhagen, and was just taking a woodland walk. But you, madame,--how happens it that I meet you here? You must be living either at Grunhagen or in Castle Hohenwald. Oh, I see, I see. My cousin, the old Freiherr, has overcome his antipathy to your charming s.e.x and has admitted into his household a governess for my lovely cousin Celia. You are this governess of course. This is why you vanished so suddenly from the face of the earth. It must be so; my keen perception has penetrated the mystery. I do not boast, for keenness of perception is one of the gifts of nature, and her gifts are variously bestowed, but I possess it.

Confess, madame, that I am right."

The a.s.sessor, who had now succeeded in twirling the ends of his moustache into two long thin points, stayed the torrent of his words for a moment to regard Lucie with a triumphant look of inquiry.

What should she reply? Chance had revealed to him her retreat in Castle Hohenwald; he now knew too much to admit of his not being told more.

She dreaded his loquacity, but perhaps he might be induced to curb it if she appealed to his honour. And, besides, he need keep silence only for a short time; in a few days she hoped her friend Adele would have provided another refuge for her, and then the good a.s.sessor's love of gossip could do no harm. "Your keen perception has not been at fault, Herr a.s.sessor," she replied. "I live in Castle Hohenwald as governess to Fraulein Celia von Hohenwald, but I need hardly tell you that in order to obtain such a situation I have been obliged to change my name.

The consequences would be disastrous to me if any one in Castle Hohenwald should learn my real name, and still more so if any one save yourself, Herr a.s.sessor, whom I trust implicitly, should suspect that I have taken refuge in Castle Hohenwald. Your perceptions are too keen to make any explanations necessary as to the painful circ.u.mstances that have driven me thus to change my name and to take refuge in the deepest seclusion. I rely upon your honour, and am convinced that you will not abuse the knowledge you have gained by accident, and that you will mention to no one our meeting to-day."

The a.s.sessor bowed profoundly, feeling immensely flattered. He seized Lucie's hand and kissed it with fervour, "Your gratifying confidence is not misplaced. I swear it by my honour!" he exclaimed, his hand on his heart. "I will be torn limb from limb sooner than that Herr von Sorr or Count Repuin or any enemy of yours, dear madame, shall learn where you have found an asylum. Rely upon me, madame, and if you should need counsel or aid I am always at your service."

"Thank you, Herr von Hahn. I knew I could trust you, and therefore I have bestowed upon you my entire confidence. If I need your a.s.sistance I shall certainly apply to you, but at present I ask only your silence and your forgiveness for concluding this interview; I must not be seen in your society."

"I understand and respect your wishes, madame; I am discreet; I make no boast of it, but----"

"I know it, Herr a.s.sessor, and I thank you for it. But before we part let me ask one question. Have you encountered upon this road a young lady on horseback?"

"Ah, you mean my fair cousin, Celia von Hohenwald."

"Do you know Celia?"

"Certainly; that is, I have seen her."

"Did you meet her?"

The question was a simple one, and yet it confused the a.s.sessor. He remembered Herr von Poseneck's words and felt very uncomfortable. True, he had not been told not to mention meeting Celia. Kurt's prohibition had borne reference only to his betrothal, but he had expressly declared that he should call the a.s.sessor personally to account for any indiscretion, and Herr von Poseneck seemed to be a man very likely to keep his word. Would he not consider it an indiscretion to direct Frau von Sorr to where she would find the lovers together? He would not run any risk, and so answered with some hesitation, "I really do not know, madame; I hardly remember----"

"Whether you have met Celia in the forest? You can hardly have forgotten it."

"Certainly not, but--some one is coming. You desire that we should not be seen together; I hasten to comply with your wishes. Adieu, madame!"

He bowed very low, glad to have any pretext for his flight, and walked away so quickly that he was in danger of overlooking the group of mighty oaks near which was the by-path to which Kurt had directed him.

Fortunately, he discovered it in time and was soon lost to sight.