"You are displeased with me, Herr Baron," Lucie continued; "but you do me great injustice. Now that I see you I can in some measure explain the grief that my hasty departure from the castle causes me. I told my father--but you do not know my dearest father yet. This, father dear, is the Baron Arno von Hohenwald."

Herr Ahlborn was by no means pleased at this meeting in the forest; it must lead to explanations which he would fain have avoided. He uttered a few phrases of conventional courtesy, and regretted that the necessity for reaching A---- that very evening would prevent any prolongation of the interview. "I shall not fail," he added, "to communicate shortly by letter the reasons which make my daughter's sudden departure from Castle Hohenwald an imperative necessity."

All that Arno gathered from this was the fact--and it filled him with dismay--that Anna was to leave Hohenwald. "What!" he cried, "are you going, going to desert my father and Celia at the hour of their sorest need? No, Fraulein Muller, I cannot believe this. Tell me you will remain. My infirm old father and Celia cannot do without you, and I--but no, I will not speak of myself, of the wretchedness that the thought of not finding you here upon my return from the war would cause me. I will plead only for my father and Celia. Stay with us! do not forsake us!"

"It must not be. I cannot!" Lucie replied, in much agitation.

"Every moment is precious!" Ahlborn exclaimed, impatiently. "Farewell, Herr Baron! Lucie, take my arm."

"No, father; you must grant me a few minutes of private conversation with Baron von Hohenwald. I owe him some explanation of my conduct."

"Lucie, take care!"

"It must be, father; I cannot help it. I will follow you in a few minutes."

"You are your own mistress," Ahlborn rejoined, grumblingly. "You must do as you please, only I implore you to remember the danger that lies in delay."

He touched his hat to Arno, and then taking the a.s.sessor's arm and accompanied by Kurt, he pursued the path until one of its windings screened Lucie and the Baron from their sight, when they paused and waited.

Lucie left alone with Arno, resolved not to leave him until she had justified herself in his eyes, and yet she was irresolute how to begin.

Her cheeks glowed with shame at the idea of imparting to him the sad mystery of her life, and yet the precious minutes were flying; something must be said immediately.

"And you are really going to leave us?"

This simple question from Arno broke the silence and relieved Lucie's hesitation. "I must, Herr Baron," she replied. "I had hoped to find a home in Castle Hohenwald, but a sad fate has s.n.a.t.c.hed it from me."

"Am I the cause of your flight?" Arno eagerly asked. "Do you so dread the few hours that are all I can yet pa.s.s in the castle? I leave it to-morrow. Do you hate me so bitterly?"

"I do not hate you," Lucie gently replied. And in her candid eyes, in the pressure of the little hand that still rested in his, Arno saw that she spoke the truth. "You are not the cause of my leaving Hohenwald.

Your brother, who is now at the castle, will tell you the reasons for my flight."

"Werner? You have confided, then, in him?"

"No; an unfortunate chance betrayed to him my sad secret, and he has made sad use of it. Even without his interference I should have followed my father, who is restored to me after years of hopeless separation, but I should not have been forced to steal away thus, like a criminal, without one word of farewell to your father, who has treated me with such paternal kindness."

"You speak in riddles. I do not comprehend you."

"I will solve them for you," Lucie sadly replied. "You will comprehend all when I tell you that the man whom your brother has just introduced at Castle Hohenwald is the cause of my misfortunes, is my miserable husband, Herr von Sorr!"

Arno fairly staggered beneath the blow; he dropped Lucie's hand and gazed at her in horror. "You are--you--you are----"

He could not finish the sentence; hope seemed slain within him; his future was a blank.

"Do not be angry with me," Lucie said, taking his hand again. "I implore you not to be angry with me. I am so wretchedly unhappy. I could not part from you without telling you the whole truth. I have longed to do this so often, and I have bitterly repented ever coming to Hohenwald under a feigned name."

"Lucie, we are waiting!" Ahlborn called from the distance.

"Must I leave you without one word of forgiveness from you?" Lucie continued. She still held Arno's hand in hers and gazed at him with eyes of sad entreaty. Hitherto she had suppressed all expression of her sentiments towards him. Never in the intercourse of daily life at Hohenwald had she for an instant relaxed in the stern watch and ward that she kept over every gesture, every look that might encourage any hope in his mind. But this was a supreme moment; they were parting forever, and her heart clamoured for its rights.

Arno was profoundly agitated. Heart and mind were filled with tumult.

Anna the wife of a wretch from whom she was forced to flee! He suddenly comprehended why she had denied him all hope; and now, as he looked into her imploring eyes and felt the soft pressure of her hand, the thought thrilled him with sudden ecstasy that she returned his love, that her lips and not her heart had rejected his affection, that she had but fulfilled a duty. He drew her closer to him, and for an instant, with a burning blush, she yielded to his embrace.

"Lucie! Lucie!" came Ahlborn's warning voice, in more impatient tones than before.

"You love me!" Arno whispered, all else forgotten in the overwhelming bliss of the moment.

Lucie extricated herself from his embrace. "We must part!" she said, sadly. "Fate divides us forever, but in this last sad moment let me implore you never to lose confidence in me, whatever you may hear upon your return to the castle!"

"Lucie! it is time we were gone!"

"I must go. We must part," she said. Once more Arno clasped her to his heart and kissed her pa.s.sionately. She did not resist, but in an instant turned and hurried to her father. As she reached the winding in the pathway she turned, waved her hand, and then vanished in the forest.

Arno gazed after her like one in a dream, conscious only that just at the moment when the blissful certainty was his that she returned his love, she was lost to him forever. She was the wife of another, and Werner, his brother, had brought to Castle Hohenwald that other, her unworthy husband, from whom she had been forced to flee under a feigned name. In an instant he comprehended that it was his part to hasten to his father and espouse Lucie's cause. As he entered the castle garden he observed two persons walking to and fro on the terrace: one was his brother, the other then was Sorr.

The garden-walk wound among shrubbery, whence Arno could watch the man for a while without being perceived, and disgust stirred within him at the thought that a man so evidently steeped in low dissipation should be Anna's husband. He felt that he hated both him and Werner, who had brought him hither. Resolved to defend his love against them both, he soon reached the terrace.

Werner awaited his brother's approach, and intercepted his direct entrance to the garden-room. A malicious smile played about his lips as he laid his hand upon Arno's shoulder. "Are you in too great a hurry, Arno, to spare me a word of greeting when we have not seen each other for several days? I will only detain you for one moment, however, to present to you in Herr von Sorr a guest whom you will doubtless be glad to welcome when I tell you that he is so fortunate as to be the husband of the beautiful Frau von Sorr whom we have learned to know by another name. For reasons of which you shall be informed hereafter, Frau von Sorr thought fit to select our house for her abode under a feigned name. We know her as Fraulein Anna Muller."

Werner had arranged his sentence so that its conclusion should be a sudden revelation to his brother. He had exulted in the prospect of Arno's amazement and horror at the intelligence that Anna Muller was Sorr's wife, but to his astonishment his brother did not betray the slightest surprise, bestowing only a slight glance at the "guest," who, hat in hand, but in evident confusion, stammered various conventional phrases suitable, as he thought, to the occasion.

Werner could not understand Arno's unlooked-for composure, and when his brother coldly rejoined, "Frau von Sorr has already informed me of your bringing this gentleman to Hohenwald," he hastily exclaimed, "You have spoken with Frau von Sorr?"

"Not long ago."

"And she told you that I was at the castle with her husband?"

"Yes."

"She must have seen us then as we drove hither."

"Very probably."

"Why, then, does she not come to my father? She is evidently avoiding us. Where did you see her? My father has been waiting impatiently for her for more than half an hour."

"Indeed? Then it will gratify him to learn tidings of her."

And with these words Arno pa.s.sed on into the garden-room; but in the doorway he observed that Werner and Sorr were following him; he paused therefore, and, barring the way, said, gravely, "The tidings that I bring of Fraulein Anna Muller are for my father's ear alone."

"Herr von Sorr certainly has a right to know where his wife is and what you have to say to my father with regard to her."

"The devil he has!" the Freiherr angrily exclaimed. "I told you before, Werner, that you are to remain out upon the terrace with your Herr von Sorr until I call you. No man in the world, and this Herr von Sorr least of all, has a right to hear what my son wishes to tell me alone.

Understand that, Herr Finanzrath. Now go! I wish to be alone with Arno!"

Werner suppressed the angry retort that rose to his lips, and, withdrawing once more, paced the terrace impatiently with Sorr. He knew that when his father was as angry as at present there was nothing for it but to obey.

"What have you to tell me of Fraulein Anna? I will still call her by the name I love. I can hardly believe that she is the wife of that low-looking scoundrel," the Freiherr said, when Arno had taken his accustomed seat beside his chair.

His son as briefly and as simply as possible told of his interview with her in the forest,--how she had presented her father to him and told him that she was forced to flee from her unworthy husband. He also delivered Anna's farewell to the Freiherr, and her entreaty that no one would judge her harshly, but wait until a letter from her should explain all.