"The daughter, the daughter," said Eva, buried in quiet meditation, "she is the obstacle!"

"No, the mother alone it is, and if that weird spectre disappeared that stands between your felicity, if it vanished away into night from which it arose so inopportunely, if time with its increasing oblivion buried it--then, perhaps, once more, even if not to-morrow, nor the day after, but when a year had elapsed, the roses of love might bloom again upon this tomb."

"Never, never," said Eva, falling upon her knees before her mother. "I beseech you, urgently, such thoughts are impious, such deeds can alter nothing. Between him and me there lies an unfathomable chasm, no sacrifice can fill it up! I will not, I cannot be his wife; but between you and him no chasm exists, a bridge is still possible in your case!"

"Only the rainbow of your dreams arches it over. But I feel from your words how you love me, my only child, and with such undeserved love.

Believe me, this is a moment in my life that outweighs years of joylessness."

And mother and daughter lay weeping in each other's arms.

A knock at the door! The Regierungsrath, with solemn, pallid mien, white as chalk, like his cravat, entered with Miranda, who must bend under the low door-way.

"Good morning, sister," said old Kalzow, "we come to fetch Eva. After yesterday's occurrence she must linger here no longer; she must return at once to Warnicken."

"We shall be alone there," added Miranda, "most of the visitors staying there returned straight home from here. The Kreisgerichtsrath, who proposed still remaining, was frightened out of our vicinity by that terrible event. Indeed, you bring too much, too much evil upon us."

And the Regierungsrthin dried a tear of pain and indignation in her eyes.

"My mother is ill," said Eva, "can I leave her now?"

"Ill?" cried Miranda, "Ill? Am I not so too? Are we not all ill? My poor husband has coughed during the whole morning, as though the betrothal had gone down the wrong side of his throat! The girl must away, and as truly as she is now our child, I shall guard her against any new encounter with my dear sister-in-law."

"But, my dear wife," said Kalzow.

"I never imagined it so bad!" continued Miranda, indomitably. "Wherever her past is touched, moths fly out! What happiness she has destroyed!

Kulmitten, Rositten, Nehren; good heavens! the most beautiful estates in the world, a pleasant, handsome n.o.bleman, and all in proper order!

There she intrudes with her unhappy adventures, and everything ends in smoke! Had my good sister-in-law loved another saint, we could better have pardoned her for it."

Frau Salden stood in silence, her hand pressed upon her heart; but Eva cried amidst her sobs--

"Oh, my G.o.d! and all these insults for my sake! Why am I not dead!"

"Go with them, my child!" said Frau Salden. "You belong to them! Let me return home to the quiet solitude, which I only forsook to bring evil upon you. The air here breathes harshness and insults, I can hear it no longer!"

"Dear sister," said the Regierungsrath, who suddenly felt a sensation of pity, "if in Warnicken--"

"For heaven's sake," said the Rthin, angrily, "of what are you thinking? My nerves are not strong enough to endure the sight of a woman who has frustrated our most beautiful plans. And then I do not deny it, after all that has happened, I am anxious about my character."

"Miranda!" the Rath said, with timid wrath.

"We must call things by their true names. Report will string together what we conceal, and it will not find much to spare."

"Do not fear," said Frau Salden, with haughty coldness, "I will not annoy you with my presence, hard as it will be for me just now to part from my daughter. Farewell, then, Eva, and tell me only once more that you love me!"

"Inexpressibly, my mother!"

And she lay in the other's arms.

"Then go in peace."

Eva tottered to the door, half dragged away by Miranda, yet she turned round once more for a last fond farewell. Then, as if she had made some resolve, with a majestic look upon her features she left the room with a firm step.

But Frail Salden sank upon the couch, buried her face in the cushions, and let her irrepressible flowing tears take their unrestrained course.

CHAPTER V.

HALF-WITTED KTCHEN.

A few weeks had elapsed since the above-named events. The sea-side places had become empty; the Regierungsrath was seated behind his doc.u.ments, but Miranda was still at the fisherman's cottage by the sea; she had to nurse Eva, who was taken dangerously ill immediately after her arrival in Warnicken. She was seized with a nervous fever, and wild delirious fancies chased her frightened spirit about in mad career.

Blanden had not set out for his estate; he had retired to the Chief Forester's house, in the deepest woodland solitude; he felt most at home with his father's worthy friend--and he needed the comfort of friendship. It is true that the old gentleman never led the conversation to Blanden's late experiences, but in his fresh, sterling nature, in his devotion to his profession, lay a power which was capable of holding enthralled the evil spirits of a distracted life.

Often they strolled together through the woods, rejoiced at the young, flourishing growth, at the tall oaks, in whose shade Romove's b.l.o.o.d.y recollections still seemed to dwell, at the sunny glades, across which stags and hinds wandered, visible from afar.

But he loved best to go alone, in a tempest that whirled through the tops of the trees, broke off boughs and branches, and hurled them to the ground, and when all other voices were rendered mute before that of the hurricane, then he believed to hear in it the cry of that almighty destiny before which nothing can exist, and that pursues its own course above the head of man.

But what enchained him most was the vicinity to Warnicken. He knew of Eva's illness, intelligence which had thrown him into a state of feverish excitement. The doctor, to whom he often rode over to make enquiries, prohibited him from visiting the sick bed as it would be dangerous for the patient's life. But how often Blanden stood upon the wooded cliffs, and gazed with intense anguish as they gleamed in the evening light upon the simple attic windows, behind which the beloved, to him lost, maiden lay in fever's delirious phantasies!

On several occasions, as he returned home at a late hour from Warnicken, he fancied that footsteps were following him, as though the bushes behind him rustled; but he did not think of danger, and when on casting a cursory glance round he perceived nothing, he deemed it beneath him to make any exertions to discover who might dog his steps.

Once he was returning home on a stormy evening, and the rustling in the forest, the groaning and cracking of the boughs accompanied his steps.

He had learned from the doctor that Eva had pa.s.sed all danger, and was now on the way towards recovery. He felt a sensation of pain, mingled with pleasure, at this. Did not life lie joylessly before the convalescent girl? And had he the power to alter it? His love still often rebelled with brilliant sophisms against the resolution of renunciation; it was a course of tempest's triumphant pa.s.sion, which hoped to destroy as mere prejudice the resistance of an invincible feeling. But always in vain. The feeling remained impervious to all attacks.

The storm had died away. Blanden could not sleep, and looked out into the moonlight night, which silvered the gloomy forest, and upward to the transparent, starry sky. Venus stood on the horizon, higher still, yellow, sparkling Mars, like an envious...o...b.. that seemed to cast a hostile light upon the soft planet of love. An image of his life; an envious fate did not vouchsafe the peaceful bliss to him, for which his soul had striven with such ardent longing.

The window was situated in the bas.e.m.e.nt story of the house, and led into a little garden, with shrubs and turf growing as nature planted them. There, again, was a rustle in the nearest thorn hedge, and Blanden thought to perceive a gay-coloured dress behind the th.o.r.n.y bushes. At the same moment the Forester's yard dog began to bark, and the dress, clutched together in alarm, disappeared behind the fence.

Blanden sprang out of the window and went towards the apparition.

Through an opening in the hedge two great eyes peered at him, as in strange astonishment, and, scratched and bleeding from the thorns, the idiot fisher girl crouched behind the fence.

When she perceived him, she pushed right through the p.r.i.c.kly bushes, threw herself down at his feet, and kissed his hands; she clung to his knees, and looked up beseechingly at him.

"What do you want? Have you often followed me?" he asked the girl; she shook her head in alarm.

"Do not deny it; you have probably already pa.s.sed many a night upon this meadow? Only lately I remarked a bright coloured dress here about midnight; but I imagined it was hung up there to dry. Do not deny it!"

He spoke the last words in a firm, loud voice.

Ktchen considered for a moment, then nodded her head, while she clasped her hands imploringly.

"Have you any message for me? Have you anything to say to me?"

The girl was silent.

"Why do you rove about here alone at night? Why do you not remain in Warnicken?"