Brandow had recovered his composure; it was absurd that he should have been so unnecessarily anxious. The scoundrel had as many lives as a cat, and what did he care for the other?

"I have been waiting here for you almost two hours," said he. "But how could such an accident have happened? Poor Gotthold, and that good fellow Sellien! I must see how he is. You will probably remain here now, and you also, Herr Wollnow."

Without waiting for a reply, he rushed out and disappeared in the darkness.

Wollnow's eyes flashed as he looked after him, but he repressed the words that seemed trembling on his lips.

"And you, my dear Gotthold?"

"I have got off so," said Gotthold. "But what is to be done now? How shall we tell his wife?"

"I should like to see him myself first. They know I was going to meet you, and will not miss me."

"Then come."

The two friends went out. Wollnow gave Gotthold his arm. "Lean on me,"

said he; "lean firmly, and don't speak."

"Only one thing. The ten thousand thalers Sellien had with him are lost. We did not notice it until we were cutting off his coat here."

"How can they be lost if you were obliged to cut off his coat?"

Gotthold made no reply; the faintness which he had already several times scarcely been able to conquer, once more stole over him, and he was obliged to lean very heavily on Wollnow's arm.

Thus, not without considerable difficulty, they reached the Furstenhof, where everything was in the greatest confusion, but did not see Brandow again. The host said that he had ordered his horse to be saddled as soon as he heard of the news of the loss of the money, and then rode away without seeing the a.s.sessor. He could do no good here, he said; but the money would scarcely be found without him.

"Nor with him perhaps," muttered Wollnow.

There had been no change in the a.s.sessor's condition.

"If he does not recover his senses soon, we have no hope of saving the patient," said Doctor Lauterbach.

The physician soon had two patients. Gotthold fell fainting upon Sellien's bed.

"I said so," observed the Doctor; "it's a miracle that he has held out so long. It is really a bad accident."

"If it is an accident," muttered Wollnow.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Herr Wollnow and his wife now spent days and nights of ceaseless care.

It had proved possible to move the a.s.sessor, in spite of his serious injuries, to their house, where he was much more comfortably situated in every respect, while Gotthold, who in comparison was scarcely considered wounded, they were obliged to leave at the Furstenhof. He had lain for hours, either unconscious or tossing in the wildest delirium, a prey to violent fever; the doctor shook his head gravely, and spoke of a concussion of the brain, which was not impossible, or some internal injury, which was extremely probable. Herr Wollnow was very anxious, and spent every moment he could spare by the bedside of the invalid.

"The a.s.sessor's case is really very simple," said he; "he has broken his left leg, and put his right arm out of joint; the arm has been set, and the leg is going on admirably. I'm not anxious about the a.s.sessor, whom you ladies will soon set to rights; but with Gotthold it is different; we don't yet know exactly where we are; I can't be spared there."

Ottilie thought he would have believed it impossible for him to be spared from Gotthold's side, under any circ.u.mstances, but she had nothing to say against a preference she herself shared; Gotthold already seemed like her own son.

Herr Wollnow received this remarkable confession with a smile, and the same rather melancholy smile flitted over his grave face again and again, as he sat beside the sick man's bed, stroked the soft wavy hair from his burning brow, and compared the delicate features, now deadly pale and anon flushed with fever, with those of another face, which had once seemed to him the type and expression of all beauty, and whose memory his faithful heart had kept so loyally.

And many strange thoughts, evoked by this recollection, pa.s.sed through his mind as he sat in the quiet room through the long silent hours,--thoughts which approached caressingly, and he repelled because they sought to remove him from the firm ground on which he had placed himself and his house, and where he must stand resolutely if he did not wish to become the sport of the winds and the waves, with all that had been entrusted to his care. No, no; it beseems not only G.o.d to p.r.o.nounce what He has created good, but man must also be permitted to say so of his works, must be able to say so, if he is to preserve the strength and courage needed to guard what he has made. He had chosen his own part; no matter whether he had taken the worse or better, he had chosen it, and in those words all was said. Those are not the best, but the worst men, who wish to decide for themselves what has been settled long ago.

But for him, who, according to the number of his years, might be his son--whom he would so gladly--no no! not that, not that; but he loved him because he was so good and n.o.ble, loved him as an older man can and may love a younger whom he sees tottering along the same intricate mazes of the path of life, which once drank his own heart's blood--for him nothing was yet decided. Could not the determination be made so that the heart need not pour forth its best blood, ere it was calm enough to understand the lessons of wisdom? How gladly would he have procured him a happiness of which he had himself been deprived! It could no longer be a perfect happiness, under any circ.u.mstances--too much had already happened which would cast its shadow athwart the fairest future--but perhaps to him it was the only one possible. After all, there was something in the race, in the old habits of thought and feeling transmitted to their descendants by those ancient Germans, who did not try to improve their wretched homes, but simply gave the matter up, who knew of no other stratagem in battle except that of binding themselves together with chains, and in gambling preferred to be ruined, rather than make any concession to ill-luck. And now he too!

the son of such a father, such a mother, who both had been destroyed by this excess of feeling, which will suffer no bargaining and trading.

Here also the case was essentially different; a force was involved here which was entirely lacking then, a force which almost seemed to make what he would otherwise condemn as a crime against society, an act of philanthropy--a necessity, and yet in his eyes a sad one.

To be sure, almost everything in regard to this question was still and must remain mere conjecture, at least so long as those who had been the victims of this--accident on the moor were unable to tell what they knew, or what observations they had made before and after. True, at best it was probable that very little weight could be given to the a.s.sessor's statement, since from the little Gotthold had communicated on that first evening, it was evident enough that the former had been incapable of judging of anything; and even now, when he could think and speak clearly again, he persisted in the a.s.sertion that he knew nothing, and must have slept until the catastrophe happened. But Gotthold, who, with the delicate perceptions of an artist, must have seen, heard, and noticed everything, could undoubtedly supply materials which a clever investigator would know how to prize.

To be sure, Justizrath von Zadenig, in the neighboring capital of the island, to whose district the case belonged, could hardly be included in this category. The Herr Justizrath saw nothing at all unusual in the event. That carriages might be upset in more or less dangerous places, and pocket-books or such things lost, everybody must admit; and that the road across Dollan moor contained such places was well known, at least to him, Justizrath von Zadenig, who knew the story of the two Wenhof cousins, part of which was connected with Dollan moor, very well, as everybody else did, who, like him, was descended from one of the old island families. The Brandows were not an old family, and the way in which they had got possession of Dahlitz was not exactly justifiable; but they no longer owned it, and Carl Brandow ought not to be called to account for the condition of the Dollan roads, over which three or four generations of Wenhofs had pa.s.sed to and fro unmolested.

That was a thing he, Justizrath von Zadenig, considered quite inadmissible, the more so as the brunt of the trouble would not come upon Brandow, but on his own brother-in-law, the Herr Landrath von Swantenit, of Swantenit, who at the last session of the court had been made responsible for the condition of the high-roads and by-ways. If, however, Herr Wollnow, of whose wisdom and judgment he held the highest opinion, thought that the matter ought to be thoroughly investigated, he would send at once for the Herr Referendar von Pahlen, and even despatch a gensdarme with him, which, always looked particularly official and serious. Surely Herr Wollnow would be satisfied with that.

Herr Wollnow was satisfied, because he had obtained all he could get from the indolent, but in other respects worthy old gentleman; and after he had settled a few other business matters, returned to Prora, where, at the door of the Furstenhof, he met Carl Brandow, who had ridden in to-day, as usual, to inquire in person about the condition of the invalids.

"Things are going on admirably," he cried, as he saw Herr Wollnow. "His head has been perfectly clear for the last hour. I have not tried to see him, because I thought all excitement ought still to be avoided; but I spoke to Lauterbach, who looks very solemn. He had made up his mind to an inflammation of the brain, and now sees that he'll pull through. Sellien, too, is getting along as well as can be expected; so I can ride home today with a lighter heart than usual. How delighted my wife will be! Perhaps I shall bring her in with me tomorrow. I have Frau Wollnow's permission to do so. Good-by until to-morrow, Herr Wollnow, good by."

"That chestnut gelding's a fine horse," said the groom, looking after him as he galloped away; "but it's nothing at all in comparison to the one he rode Sunday night. That was a splendid animal."

Wollnow's glance had also followed the slight figure, whose seat in the saddle was so firm and graceful. "If he is really the scoundrel I think him, it will be difficult to outwit him at all events. And I must not let Gotthold notice anything; it would excite him terribly, and, for the present, without due cause; at least I must have firmer ground. It would certainly be no child's play: the snare which could catch the knave would need very small meshes."

As his friend entered, Gotthold extended his hand, which, though very white, was entirely free from fever.

"There," said he, "feel it yourself; and now with this clasp let me thank you for your kindness, your affection. I have not been so entirely out of my mind as not to see your face distinctly from time to time, amid all the delirious fancies that oppressed me, and always with the grave pitying expression, which I shall gratefully remember as long as I live."

Gotthold's voice trembled, and tears glittered in his eyes--"It is not the weakness of sickness," said he: "I will frankly confess the truth: it is the power of an emotion which is entirely new to me. I have had so little opportunity to be grateful for the services of love. The person who to others, during their whole lives, stands forth as the image of unselfish, self-sacrificing devotion--my mother--died so early, I scarcely knew her; I was separated from my father by an--as I must believe--impa.s.sable gulf, and for ten years have wandered about the world amid a thousand events, a thousand relations, ever in the bustle of society, constantly among, and often even the centre of a large circle of friends, and yet in the inmost depths of my soul alone--alone, and longing for a love which so late in life has been given me by a man whom I saw a few days ago for the first time, and between whom and myself no relations had previously existed save those of the most ordinary business transactions."

The merchant's grave dark face expressed keen emotion, and his deep voice sounded strangely low and gentle as he said after a short pause:

"And suppose that we did not meet a few days ago for the first time; suppose I had held you in my arms when you were a boy four or five years old; suppose the interest I took in you sprang from a much deeper source than our business relations, was connected with all the poetry and beauty of my life: what then, my dear young friend, what then?"

"Did you know my mother?" asked Gotthold, with a sudden presentiment; "you must have known her."

"I knew and--loved her. To know and love her was in those days the same thing to me, nay, even at this moment they still seem to belong together, like light and warmth."

"And my mother--loved you. Speak frankly, and explain the mystery that has always rested upon the relations between my parents."

Wollnow shook his head. "No, no," said he, "that is not it; even if it seemed so for a moment, it was only seeming, and it is the sorrowful pride of my life that I did not allow myself to be dazzled by this semblance; that through it I perceived the rugged path duty and honor commanded me to tread."

"You increase the mystery instead of dispelling it," said Gotthold.

"So many things in this drama have remained mysterious, even to me,"

replied Wollnow, covering his eyes with his hand; "but one fact is plain, that a man of your father's stamp, so highly gifted, so glowing with the holy pa.s.sion of truth, could not fail to arouse an overmastering love in the heart of your no less gifted, no less enthusiastic mother. I a.s.sure you, my friend, if ever there was a love such as you described a short time ago, it was that which impelled these two rare, beautiful natures towards each other, like two flames which rush together into one. Any one who witnessed the spectacle stood in silent admiration, saying: No other conclusion is possible. My poor dear friend said so, though it was a death sentence to him; I said so too, and thought my heart would break; but it was stronger than I believed, and then--I was determined to live! With that determination one can do so, my friend, although it is at first a very wretched, pitiful fragment of life."

Wollnow paused, for he felt that he could not go on calmly. After a short time he continued:

"I am not now in a condition to judge whether I have erred in allowing myself to be led on to make this confession to you, but I should certainly wrong the memory of your parents, you, my dear young friend, nay, myself, if I did not now tell you all, although the all is but little, and this little terribly significant of the sad uncertainty of human destiny.