"Of course I have. I saw you arrive, and by way of welcome plucked a whole ap.r.o.nful of syringa flowers to surprise you after a sisterly fashion, and then crept up to the door on tiptoe. There, to my horror, I heard how the redoubtable Finanzrath had the impudence to tell my darling old papa that he had not brought me up. Was it not my duty to listen? You are a detestable monster, Werner! Look at me and tell me what fault you have to find with me."

At this moment the Finanzrath certainly had no fault whatever to find with his charming sister; he thought her lovely, and owned to himself that if no one had brought Celia up, mother Nature had done the best that was possible for her. Her every movement was graceful, her bearing that of a lady, and even in the stormy embrace she had bestowed upon her father there had been nothing rude or unfeminine, but only an impulsive warmth that became her admirably.

"Why do you not speak?" Celia went on, as the Finanzrath continued to look at her with a smile but without replying. "You were ready enough just now to prate about my want of social elegance, and Herr Arno, in the character of a dignified echo, added his 'I cannot deny it.' Only wait, Arno; you shall atone to me for that!"

"That's right!" the Freiherr cried in high glee. "The little witch has you both on the hip."

"And, papa, I am a little angry with you, too. You were nearly talked over by that odious Werner. Now let me tell you, if you ever send me to boarding-school I will run away immediately. Even if I have to beg my way back to Hohenwald I never will stay in Dresden with that horrid Frau von Adelung, to whom Werner would sell me like a slave."

"You would not talk so, child, if you had ever seen Frau von Adelung,"

the Finanzrath observed.

"I am not a child, and I will not let you treat me as such. Remember that, Werner. I will never consent to be sent to school."

"a.s.sure yourself on that point, little one. You heard me say that I never will permit such an arrangement: that I cannot and will not be parted from you," said the old man.

"Yes, I heard that, you dear old papa, and I could have shouted for joy when you refused to listen to Werner's odious plan. You cannot live without me, nor can I without you. So let Arno talk as he pleases. You and I know that I am very well brought up. Neither you nor Arno has ever found any fault with my manners, and as for what Werner has to say about marriage, it is all nonsense. I shall never marry, but live here with you two at Hohenwald. Upon that I am resolved."

"Ah, indeed?" the Finanzrath asked, smiling. "So elevated a resolve adopted by a girl of fifteen of course alters the case."

"You are detestable! In two months I shall be sixteen."

"A most venerable age, I admit; fortunately, however, not so advanced but that you may still have something to learn. How, for example, does your music come on?"

Celia blushed, and replied, rather dejectedly, "I have not practised much lately. Our good old pastor is so deaf that he never hears my mistakes."

"And therefore you prefer not to practise at all, but to forget the little you have learned, although you have considerable talent, and might give my father a great deal of pleasure if you had a good teacher. Think, father, how you would enjoy having Celia give you an hour or so of delicious music every evening."

The old man looked fondly at his darling: "Yes, yes, I should like it very well, but if it tires the child to practise, I can do very well without it."

"Oh, no, papa; I will turn over a new leaf, and practise well, if it really will please you."

"Practice is not enough," said the Finanzrath; "you never will improve without a teacher. I consulted Frau von Adelung upon the subject, for I foresaw that my plan of sending you to school would meet with invincible opposition from you and my father. Therefore I asked Frau von Adelung if she knew of any one whom she could recommend as a governess for Celia."

"Ah, now we are coming to the governess!" cried Celia, laughing. "You are a born diplomatist, Werner. This is why you praised my 'talent' and talked about my music. But no, my cunning brother, I am not to be caught in your net. Am I, grown up as I am, to be ordered about by an ugly old governess in green spectacles? I can hear her now: 'Fraulein Celia, sit up; you are stooping again! Fraulein Celia, no young lady should climb a chestnut-tree. Fraulein Celia here, Fraulein Celia there! You must not do this, and you must not do that.' Oh, a governess is always a horror! and I tell you, Werner, that if you send one here, I will contrive that she is tired of her post in a week."

"We will see about that," the Finanzrath rejoined, coolly. "Frau von Adelung has recommended to me very highly an accomplished young person, who, so far as I know, neither wears green spectacles nor is a horror.

She is very musical, plays the piano charmingly, and speaks French as well as English."

"She must be a prodigy, indeed!" Arno said. "Is it possible that such a combination of the arts and sciences can condescend to come to Castle Hohenwald? Celia is right; the lady could not stay here a week. Our lonely castle is no place for such a wonder, nor is Celia any pupil for her. Neither my father nor I could alter our mode of life for a governess. Women, in fact, are so little to my mind, that it is only by an effort that I can bring myself to speak to them."

"Pray let me thank you in the name of the s.e.x," Celia said, with a low courtesy to her brother.

"Nonsense! you are an exception, you little will-o'-the-wisp. No need to talk artificial nonsense to you; you are not greedy for admiration, and do not expect to be flattered."

"And how do you know that Fraulein Muller, the lady recommended by Frau von Adelung, expects it?" asked the Finanzrath.

"All these modern governesses expect it. Most of them are pedantic, and all of them are greedy for admiration."

"You are certainly mistaken in this case. I described exactly to Frau von Adelung the life that is led at Castle Hohenwald; I expressly told her that no guest is admitted within its walls, that the governess would have no companionship save Celia's, that my father was ill, and therefore unfit for social intercourse, that Arno was a woman-hater, who would never, probably, exchange three words with her, and that therefore the position of governess here would not suit any one with any social pretensions."

"And what was Frau von Adelung's reply?" Arno asked.

"That it was just the kind of situation that Fraulein Muller wanted."

"That seems to me a rather suspicious circ.u.mstance. Why should such a woman as you describe, talented and accomplished, desire to bury herself in the solitude of Castle Hohenwald?" Arno objected, and his father, too, shook his head doubtfully.

But the Finanzrath was prepared for this objection; he said, "Frau von Adelung, in whose sincerity and truth I place perfect reliance, explained what seemed to me, too, an anomaly. Fraulein Muller has had much to endure in her life; her father was a wealthy merchant, and she was brought up in the greatest luxury. But all the young girl's hopes in life were disappointed: her father lost his entire fortune. Frau von Adelung hinted that he had committed suicide, probably in despair at his losses, and gave me to suppose, although for the young lady's sake she did not say so directly, that the poor girl was betrothed, and that the loss of her money broke her engagement. Alone, and dependent entirely upon her own exertions, the unfortunate girl is anxious to earn an honourable livelihood. The solitude of Castle Hohenwald, Frau von Adelung maintains, would make the situation here peculiarly desirable to Fraulein Muller. I expressly stated, also, that my father would be quite ready to indemnify her by an unusually high salary for the disadvantages of her position here; and I have so arranged matters that it only needs a note from me to Frau von Adelung to secure Fraulein Muller for Celia. She might be here in a few days. It is for you to decide, father, whether we shall embrace the opportunity thus offered us of procuring a suitable companion and teacher for Celia, or whether we shall let it slip."

The Freiherr was convinced by his son's representations. There was still a conflict going on within him between his distaste for having his quiet life disturbed by the intrusion of a stranger and his desire that Celia's education might be complete. But he was so far won over to the Finanzrath's views that he would not say 'no' to his plan. Celia must decide. "Well, little one," he said, "what do you think now of Werner's scheme? Shall he write to Frau von Adelung to send us this Fraulein Muller, or do you still declare that you will not have her?"

Celia looked thoughtful. She must decide, then. She thought of the delicious liberty she had hitherto enjoyed, of the restraint that would be laid upon her in the future. But she thought also of her father's pleasure in her progress in music, and more than all, it quite broke her heart to think that her "no" would destroy the hopes of an unfortunate girl who was seeking a position as governess.

Her brother's account had excited her profound sympathy. She could not say "no." "You are an odious fellow, Werner!" she said, after a short pause for reflection. "You do just what you please with us; but you shall have a kiss, and you may write to Fraulein Muller to come, and I will try not to tease her."

So the Finanzrath had his kiss, but he could not keep her by his side.

She had been serious long enough, and she ran laughing into the garden, leaving her father and brothers to farther consultation.

CHAPTER VI.

The Prussian-Saxon boundary defines also the bounds between the Hohenwald estates, that lie entirely on Saxon territory, and the Prussian domain of Grunhagen. The boundary-line here makes a great curve into Saxony, so that the Grunhagen lands are almost shut in by the Hohenwald forests and fields. The Grunhagen forest indeed forms a continuation of the magnificent woods of beech and oak that surround Castle Hohenwald, the boundary-line between them being only marked out by a narrow path, so overgrown with moss and underbrush that only careful observation can detect its course.

The vicinity of the two estates has always been, since the memory of man, a fruitful cause of quarrel between the respective proprietors of Hohenwald and Grunhagen, each being strictly jealous lest his neighbour should infringe upon his rights. At times some of the Hohenwald cattle, when the herd-boy was not sufficiently on the alert, would stray into the Grunhagen fields and be taken into custody by Herr von Poseneck's people, and on one occasion the Hohenwald forester had actually sequestrated the fowling-piece of Herr von Poseneck, when that gentleman, who was devoted to the chase, had in his hunting attempted to make a short cut through the Hohenwald forest. There had also been various trespa.s.ses upon the rights of the chase which were hardly to be distinguished from poaching committed on both sides of the boundary by enthusiastic Posenecks and Hohenwalds.

These innumerable quarrels had begotten a hostility between the Barons of Hohenwald and Poseneck, which had been handed down from generation to generation, and which was by no means lessened by the fact that, since the annexation of Saxony with Prussia, the Posenecks had become Prussian n.o.blemen. No Hohenwald ever visited Grunhagen, and even in the days when Hohenwald had been renowned for its brilliant entertainments, at which were a.s.sembled all the country gentry and many families from beyond the border, no Poseneck was ever invited within its gates.

The hatred of the Hohenwalds for the Posenecks was so great that Freiherr Werner, although he was not wanting in a certain amiability, could not suppress a sentiment of exultation when, in 1849, Kurt von Poseneck, who had allied himself with great enthusiasm to the revolutionists, was forced to sell Grunhagen to his brother-in-law, the Amtsrath Friese, and emigrate to America with his family to escape the trial for high treason that threatened him as a member of the extreme left of the Frankfort National a.s.sembly.

Since then, however, the animosity between Grunhagen and Poseneck had slumbered, for the new possessor of Grunhagen was a man who detested litigation, and who did all that he could to avoid giving cause for offence to the Hohenwalds, while he overlooked any slight trespa.s.s on their part. Thus open strife was avoided, but the old dislike only smouldered. Freiherr Werner had transferred it to the Poseneck's near relative, the Amtsrath, whom he detested for his Prussian extraction.

Like master like man! All the inmates of the castle and the inhabitants of the village of Hohenwald hated everything relating to Grunhagen. The Hohenwald servants, from the steward and inspector to the commonest stable-boy, held the "Grunhagen Prussians" for an odious race of men, and, as they had received strict orders from the Freiherr not to be led into any disputes, avoided all a.s.sociation with the Grunhagen people.

Thus the road from Grunhagen to the village of Hohenwald wellnigh disappeared beneath weeds and gra.s.s, for there was not the slightest intercourse between the two places. Was it to be wondered at, then, that a Hohenwald plough boy, driving his team in the meadow bordering upon the Grunhagen lands, stopped his horses and stared in surprise at a young, well-dressed man sauntering slowly along the disused road, crossing the boundary, and then, when near the village of Hohenwald, striking into a by-path leading directly to the Hohenwald oak-forest?

The fellow looked after the stranger until he was lost to sight in the forest, and then whipped up his horses, resolving to acquaint the inspector that very evening with the remarkable occurrence.

The stranger noticed the ploughboy's wonder, but it merely provoked a smile as he slowly loitered along the meadow-path. Now and then he paused and looked around, surveying with evident pleasure the lovely landscape spread before him, the fertile fields and meadows, girdled by the glorious oaken forest, now clothed in the delicious green of early spring. As he reached its borders he paused again to look back at the charming village of Hohenwald, nestled on the edge of the forest, and at the stately mansion of Grunhagen, overtopping the farm-buildings, granaries, stables, and cottages about it.

How near the two estates were to each other and yet how wide apart! A smile hovered upon the young man's handsome face as he called to mind the strange hatred of the two proprietors for each other. He had laughed aloud when the Amtsrath Friese had told him of it at Grunhagen, and he could not now suppress a smile, for such an inherited aversion was entirely inconceivable to him; it was a folly for which there was no possible explanation.

Entering the wood, he pursued the narrow path through the thick underbrush, and gazed about him with intense admiration. Nowhere else in Europe had he seen such magnificent old oaks; they belonged exclusively to the Hohenwald domain, whose proprietor cared for them most tenderly, and never allowed any of the giant trunks to be felled except those which nature had decreed should yield to time. The Baron could well afford to cultivate his love for his oaks; and whatever might be done in distant parts of the forest, no axe was ever allowed to work havoc near the castle among his old oaks and beeches in his dear "forest depths." The narrow foot-path crossed a broad road through the wood; here the stranger paused irresolute and looked about him searchingly. To the right the road wound through the forest, in whose depths it vanished; to the left it led through rows of trees up a gentle incline to Castle Hohenwald, one of the wings of which the stranger could discern in the distance. He had not thought himself so near the castle; the foot-path must have led him astray. According to the directions of the Grunhagen inspector, he should be upon the path which, cutting off a corner, was a more direct road to the Grunhagen woods than the one leading from the mansion; but if this were so, it ought not to have brought him so near to Castle Hohenwald. He hesitated, pondering whether to follow the path on the other side of the road or to turn round, when his attention was arrested by a charming sight. Galloping upon a magnificent and spirited horse, there suddenly appeared upon the road from the castle a girl scarcely more than a child. She managed her steed with wondrous case and security; the mad gallop gave her no fear; she sat as firmly and even carelessly in the saddle as though the horse were going at an ordinary pace; indeed, she even incited him to greater speed with a light touch of her riding-whip.

How lovely she was! A young girl, judging by her slender, well-rounded figure, and yet only a child. There was a bright smile upon her charming face, her eyes beamed with happiness, and her dark curls, blown backwards by the breeze, escaped from beneath her light straw hat.

She was very near the stranger when the horse suddenly started and shied, probably frightened by the young man's light summer coat among the trees.