Lucie looked after him, at a loss to understand his conduct. Why should he find such difficulty in answering her simple question with regard to Celia, and hurry away in such confusion? He must have seen Celia; why not say so? She quickened her pace and soon reached a turning-point in the road that opened a long vista before her. Here her glance instantly encountered Celia, who was riding slowly towards her, attended by Kurt, whom Lucie instantly recognized, having seen him upon the evening of her arrival at Castle Hohenwald. Celia held her bridle negligently in her left hand; her right was clasped in that of Kurt, towards whom she was leaning, talking so earnestly that at first she did not perceive Lucie, who stood still transfixed with astonishment.

This, then, was the reason of the a.s.sessor's mysterious behaviour; this was the explanation of Celia's devotion to her daily rides in the forest.

Pluto was the first to become aware of Lucie's presence; he tossed his head and neighed; this attracted Celia's attention, and she perceived her friend. "Anna!" she exclaimed in a tone of delighted surprise, in which there was not the slightest trace of terror. She withdrew her hand from Kurt's and urged her horse to where her friend stood. "Anna, my darling Anna!" she said, tenderly. "I am so rejoiced to see you! Now you shall learn all. Kurt himself can tell you all about it. Yes, Kurt, tell Anna everything,--how we first came to know each other, that we are betrothed, and that nothing now can separate us; tell her, too, what you told me awhile ago of Werner. Ah, how glad I am that chance has brought you two together! Now, Kurt, you will know my dearest Anna, and will see how wise it is to confide in her absolutely. Adieu, my darling Anna! Au revoir, dear Kurt!"

She kissed her hand to Lucie and Kurt, then gathered up her reins and galloped towards the castle.

Lucie looked after her very gravely. She was inexpressibly pained by the discovery she had so unexpectedly made. It had never occurred to her that Celia, gay, innocent, frank child that she seemed, could be engaged in any secret love-affair; she would have rejected any such idea with indignation.

And yet here was the proof. She felt grieved and ashamed; grieved because she had believed herself possessed of Celia's entire confidence, and ashamed that her care of her pupil had been so negligent that the girl had been able to deceive her from the first day of her arrival at Hohenwald.

Her anger, however, was not for Celia, but for Kurt; Celia was an inexperienced child, who did not and could not know the peril of such secret entanglements; Kurt's was all the blame.

It was therefore a very stern and forbidding look with which she received Kurt, who approached her with some embarra.s.sment in his greeting. He knew that her judgment of him could hardly be a favourable one. She had seen him but once, when his courtesy in proffering a.s.sistance and his whole air and manner had made a very pleasant impression upon her, an impression in which she had been strengthened by what she had learned of him from the Finanzrath and from Adele's letters. Even now, as she looked at him with severe scrutiny, she could not but admit to herself that his appearance was greatly in his favour.

He was not, strictly speaking, handsome, his features were not perfectly regular; but his countenance was frank and manly in expression, his fine eyes were honest and true, and about the firm mouth there were lines that betokened great gentleness and kindliness of nature. Lucie easily understood how a young man of so pleasing an exterior could win the heart of the inexperienced Celia, who was debarred all society, and her indignation was the deeper that Kurt should have so unscrupulously used his power over an innocent child.

"You will have the goodness, Herr von Poseneck, to give me the explanation to which Celia has just alluded," she said, gravely and sternly.

Kurt bowed, and not without some confusion, for his conscience was not quite clear, he replied: "You have a right, Fraulein Muller, to ask this explanation of me, and I give it you the more readily, since my betrothed was about to give you her entire confidence this very evening. Even without this chance meeting you would have learned from her what you are now to learn from me."

"Your betrothed?" Lucie repeated the words with sharp emphasis. "Your betrothed? Are you not aware, Herr von Poseneck, that a child of sixteen cannot be betrothed without her father's consent? So far as I know, the Freiherr von Hohenwald has not given his paternal consent to your betrothal to his daughter, nor will he, for reasons with which you doubtless are familiar, ever be likely to do so."

"You condemn me without hearing me!" Kurt said, sadly.

"I have heard from Celia and from you that you are betrothed to my pupil, although you know that the Freiherr is hostile to your family, and that you can never hope for his consent. Was it right, was it honorable, that you, a man of ripe knowledge of the world, should induce a young, innocent girl, almost a child, to grant you private meetings in the forest, and finally to betroth herself to you against her father's will?"

"You are right, Fraulein Muller; I cannot deny it; I have often said just the same thing to myself; but my heart was stronger than my head.

I hope, however, that you will judge me less severely when you have heard that I came to know Celia by chance, and that my love for her soon grew to a consuming pa.s.sion that was beyond heeding the sage suggestions of reason. Only grant me a short interview; I promise you that I will be absolutely frank with you. Will you not hear me?"

Lucie consented, and the short interview ended in a long conversation between the two as they slowly paced to and fro in the woodland road.

Kurt kept his promise to be entirely frank and candid; he began with his first accidental meeting with Celia, who had won his heart at once, although he had determined that he would entertain for her only brotherly friendship. He described eloquently how this love had grown within him, until he had been carried away by it so far as to reveal it to Celia, and how he had been, as it were, forced by the a.s.sessor's intrusion to utter the decisive word that betrothed them on this very day. He went on to tell Lucie how he had agreed with Celia that she was to acquaint her dearest friend with their secret, and ask her for aid and counsel; that he had at first been resolved to go to the old Freiherr and confess everything to him, but that he had been deterred from doing so by Celia's entreaties and representations. He informed Lucie of all that he had heard with regard to Werner's schemes, and of the danger threatening the Freiherr, adding that Celia looked to her to aid in averting it. "And now," he said, in conclusion, "you know everything. Judge for yourself whether I am as culpable as you thought me at first. I confess that my only excuse is my pa.s.sionate affection for my darling Celia."

Lucie did not reply immediately,--she pondered well upon all that Kurt had said; his candour and integrity she could not doubt,--truth shone in his eyes; she could not help believing him. "I cannot approve your conduct," she said, after a long silence, "but neither will I judge you too harshly. What is done cannot be undone; we can do nothing with the past, but I demand that you atone in the future, as far as in you lies, for the wrong you have committed. There must be an end to these meetings with Celia; this you must promise me,--this duty you must fulfil, however hard it may seem to you. Do not answer me immediately, but reflect. I know that at this moment you think it impossible to comply with my demand; nevertheless it must be done. You must have sufficient self-control to enable you to resign a fleeting moment of happiness. If you love Celia truly and honestly, and would not separate her from her father, you must sacrifice thus much for her sake. You ought not to see Celia again unless by the Freiherr's consent. If you promise me this, Herr von Poseneck, I will promise you to do all that I can to influence the Freiherr in your favour. I will try to combat his unjustifiable hatred of you; I will be silent with regard to what I have seen to-day, although it is perhaps my duty to put him on his guard. Will you make me the promise that I ask, Herr von Poseneck?"

"Can I make it? Would not Celia doubt my faith and affection if she should not find me in the forest at the accustomed hour?"

"Celia will never again, while I am at Castle Hohenwald, ride in the forest alone, and she shall learn from me with what a heavy heart you make the sacrifice to your love which I have asked of you. It is very likely that she, too, will rebel against this sacrifice, and will blame both you and me; but this consideration ought not to deter you from doing your duty; thus only can you enable me to keep silence to the Freiherr, who, if he should learn now, without any preparation, that his daughter is secretly betrothed to a Poseneck, never would forgive you!"

"You demand an impossibility!" Kurt replied. "I cannot make a promise which I may be forced to break. If Celia should call me, should need my help, should I not hasten to her aid? And how easily this might happen!

Am I not Celia's natural protector? You know what danger threatens the Freiherr through the Finanzrath's intrigues; if he, with his two sons, should be placed under arrest, to whom could Celia turn for aid and counsel? Ought I then, bound by a promise, to refuse her this aid? I could not!"

"Nor do I ask this. Your promise is not to be held binding in so extreme a case. Give it me with this condition."

"You are very cruel."

"I am only doing my duty, and requiring that you should do yours."

Lucie's firmness conquered, and Kurt submitted after much hesitation.

He could not but admit to himself that Lucie was right, and that in her influence with the Freiherr lay his only hope for the future. He gave the required promise.

CHAPTER XIII.

Away into the open air, to field or forest, wherever nature offers solitude! This was Arno's thought; he longed to be alone, to collect himself, after the fearful blow he had received. He crossed the court-yard and hurried through garden and park into the depths of the forest. Arrived there, where he felt sure of encountering no one, he threw himself down upon the moss-carpet at the foot of a giant oak. The quiet soothed him; he needed it to aid him to control the storm of emotion within him. What had he just undergone? To his humiliation he had been harshly rejected,--rejected in a manner that wounded his pride as well as his heart. What folly his former suspicions of Anna had proved to be! He had preserved towards her a cold and chilling demeanour to convince her that her feminine arts to attract him were vain. How she must have smiled at the silly vanity for which he was now paying so dearly! And he had asked for so little, for only one ray of hope, only for permission to love her, and even this she had coldly and firmly denied him. He had thought his heart desolated by the deceit from which he had suffered years before, but the contrary was proved in the bitter pain that now tortured him. He loved, and she whom he loved scorned his affection. Was her heart no longer free? Did she love another? She had denied this; but could he believe her? He remembered all that Werner had told of her, that she had been betrothed and forsaken by her lover when her father's wealth had vanished. Could she still cling to one so worthless? No; it was impossible. She must despise such a man, and she was too n.o.ble to give affection where she could not esteem. Had Werner's studied attentions produced any impression upon her? No; her tone, in speaking of him, had been that of contempt; she saw through him,--he never could touch her heart. And yet how could "duty and honour," of which she had spoken, demand that she should reject forever a genuine devotion, and that she should declare, "We must part forever!" The claim of another upon her affection could alone make it her duty to refuse to listen to his protestations. The thought was torture. He could endure everything save that. He was a prey to a savage jealousy of this unknown who robbed him of all that could make life fair, and he had to force himself to reflect that he had not an atom of foundation for this jealousy, which, nevertheless, he could not crush out of his heart. There it was, and it would a.s.sert itself, laughing to scorn the arguments of sober reason.

The sun was low in the heavens when Arno was roused from his long brooding reverie by the crackling of the underbrush, caused as he thought by some animal making its way through the thicket. But no; in a few moments there emerged upon the open s.p.a.ce, in the midst of which stood the giant oak at whose feet he was reclining, Hauk, the chief inspector of the Hohenwald estate.

The man was much surprised at encountering thus his young master, whom he had never supposed to be addicted to daydreams in the depth of the forest, and he evidently reflected that his presence here, instead of in the fields superintending the labourers, might seem strange to Baron Arno. He approached him, hat in hand, with an air of some embarra.s.sment. "I beg pardon for disturbing you, Herr Baron," he said, "but I never dreamed of finding you here."

"True, Herr Hauk," Arno replied, recalled to the actual world by the Inspector's presence, "nor could I have expected to find you here instead of in the fields."

The Inspector's embarra.s.sment was increased by the reproof conveyed in the young Baron's words; and it suddenly seemed to him that the reasons for which he had undertaken his walk through the forest were mere folly. "I beg pardon, Herr Baron," he said, meekly, "I should not have left my work with the men, but I saw Herr von Poseneck again, and I wanted to know what the young gentleman is after on our land. Something must be wrong when a Poseneck tramps about our forest!"

"You are dreaming. Inspector!" Arno rejoined, harshly. "What could bring Herr von Poseneck to Hohenwald? Go back to your men, and refrain from woodland rambles while harvesting is going on."

The Inspector had never before received so stern a rebuke from the young Baron, and the faithful fellow felt aggrieved. "Of course, if the Herr Baron orders it I will return immediately, but it is a pity that I should not discover what Herr von Poseneck is continually after in our forest. Still, it is no business of mine why he is sneaking here, if the Herr Baron does not care about it."

Arno's curiosity was aroused; he had thought at first that the man's story was an invention to cover his neglect of duty, but he now saw clearly that he had wronged Hauk, who had been a faithful servant for many years. Therefore, in a much gentler tone, he asked, "What is it you are saying about Herr von Poseneck? Explain your meaning, Hauk."

"I mean only, if the Herr Baron will excuse me, what I say. Young Herr von Poseneck, who lives at Grunhagen with the Amtsrath, has been for a long time sauntering about in our forest every day; what he is after I do not know, but since he is a Poseneck, it can be no good. He usually takes the path along the Grunhagen boundary, and gets into the forest that way; but to-day I saw him hurry directly across the Hohenwald meadow. Early in the spring, Kunz, who was ploughing near the Grunhagen boundary, saw him do just the same thing. I watched him enter the forest to-day with my own eyes, and I came through it from the other side, thinking to strike the very path he must have taken, and catch my fine gentleman in the act, if, as I suspect, he is at any poaching work."

This was a strange piece of news. It was folly to suspect Kurt von Poseneck of poaching; the idea was begotten in the Inspector's mind by the universal mistrust of the Posenecks that was rife among the Hohenwald tenantry and servants; still Arno wondered what could bring the young gentleman daily to the Hohenwald forest, and he thought the matter called for an explanation. "Are you sure, Hauk, that you are not mistaken in the man?"

"Perfectly sure, Herr Baron; besides, all the men at work saw him as well as myself."

"Strange! And you say that he has been in the habit for some time of wandering about in our forest daily?"

"Yes, Herr Baron; he has often been seen, mostly by the women when they were gathering sticks, but they said nothing about it, for they themselves were on forbidden ground."

"Mere old women's gossip then!"

"No, Herr Baron; the forester has seen him too, but he did not speak to him, because the Freiherr has ordered us to avoid all quarrels with the Grunhageners; and Kunz saw him, as I said, long ago."

"Long ago? That is very vague. How long ago?"

"I cannot tell exactly, but it must have been about the time that Fraulein Muller came to Hohenwald, for Kunz was with the Herr Baron that night in the quarry, and he told me shortly afterwards that he had seen young Herr von Poseneck cross our field to the forest; that he had not been sure it was he until he saw him that night in the quarry; but that then he was perfectly certain of him. So he must have been seen first about that time, and since then scarcely a day has pa.s.sed that he has not been seen by some of the people in the wood."

Arno's brow darkened. Kurt was no poacher, but he thought he had discovered the reason for his walks in the Hohenwald forest. Following the path by which he had been seen to enter it, he would reach the lake in the park, upon the sh.o.r.e of which, hidden among the shrubbery, was a bench, whence there was a lovely view of the little sheet of water.

This spot was a favourite one with Fraulein Anna Muller. Whenever, as was, to be sure, but rarely the case, she walked in the park during Celia's absence upon her afternoon ride, this bench was always her goal, for she knew that even Werner would not venture to intrude upon her there. Her reason for seeking this retreat was now plain, as was also Kurt's attraction for the Hohenwald forest.

And yet Anna had said that her heart was free! Could she lie? Why had she not frankly confessed the truth? He would have had no right to blame her; her avowal would, indeed, have pained him, but the pain would have been easier to bear than distrust of her. He suffered in the thought that she was no better than the rest, that she could descend to a falsehood when the happiness of a man who loved her devotedly was at stake.

"Is it the Herr Baron's commands that I should return to the harvesters?"

The Inspector's question aroused Arno from his confused imaginings.