A Hero of the Pen

"Us!" repeated Alison slowly. "Are you not alone?!" And as if startled by a sudden idea, he added hastily: "I cannot hope to find Miss Forest in your company?"

"Yes, she comes with me."

Alison was about to rush to the carriage, but he forebore. Was he abashed at the involuntary movement, or was it the remembrance of their last meeting, that all at once allayed his excitement? Enough, he controlled his emotion, and with a calmness all too indifferent to be natural, he turned again to Atkins.

"And how came you, and above all Miss Forest, here at the theatre of war?"

Atkins had foreseen the question, and was prepared. "How? Well, we wished for an inside view of the war; but in a week's time we have become weary enough of it and as you see, are now upon our return home. Doctor and Mrs. Stephen will be triumphant; they were beside themselves at what they called Miss Jane's eccentricities and my compliance."

A cold mocking smile played around Alison's lips. "But I am not so credulous as Doctor and Mrs. Stephen. This excuse may satisfy them, but I know Miss Jane too well to suppose her guilty of so aimless and romantic a thirst for adventure. She would be the last to undertake such a journey, and she would hardly have found in you so obsequious an escort."

Atkins bit his lips. He might have foreseen the answer.

"Will you have the kindness to explain to me the reason of Miss Forest's coming here?" asked Alison, even more sharply than before.

"Ask her yourself!" cried Atkins angrily. He thought it best to throw the entire responsibility upon Jane rather than betray any of her motives.

"I will do so!" replied Henry morosely, and stepped to the carriage.

His appearance had by this time ceased to be a surprise to Jane; she had seen him leave the house and enter into conversation with Atkins. She at once gained complete mastery over herself. Whatever might have passed through her soul during these last momentous hours. Mr. Alison saw only a perfectly immovable face, upon which was no trace of anxiety or passion. She had again enveloped herself in that icy dignity which had made her so unapproachable in B., and this ice now froze Henry as he stepped to the carriage to greet her. This manner decided Alison's whole bearing. He could in a case of necessity, enforce a right; but he was too proud to betray an affection in the face of such coldness.

With chilling politeness, he lifted her from the carriage, offered her his arm, and conducted her to a bench before the inn, while in a few words he informed her and Atkins that the matter in dispute had been referred to the proper officer, and he hoped that after an examination of their papers, no further hindrance would be placed in the way of their journey.

Atkins seemed to be of the same opinion; he went back to the carriage to give the driver some directions, leaving the two alone.

Jane had thrown herself down upon the bench; she knew that an explanation of her presence here would be demanded. Was she inclined to give it? It did not appear that she was.

Henry showed no haste to question her, he only gazed searchingly into her face; but it was in vain, she remained calm beneath his glance.

"It was a great surprise to me to find you here, Jane!" he began at last.

"And your coming was one to me. I expected no such meeting."

"Under the circumstances, my return was to be expected, I intended to go directly to B. where I certainly hoped to find you; but the place seems to possess small attractions for you."

In spite of the sharp scrutiny of his manner, it still betrayed an involuntary satisfaction; although Miss Forest gave him no explanation, he would far rather see her here in the midst of this tumult of war and exposed to its dangers, than safe at home with her relations in B.

Jane was spared an answer, for at this moment, Atkins returned; Henry frowned, but did not seem inclined to speak upon this subject in the presence of a third person. For some minutes there was an uncomfortable silence in the little group; further questions over the where and when were in the minds of all, and yet each avoided uttering them. Atkins at last began to converse on another subject.

"And what say you of the events which have taken place since we parted? Had you ever dreamed them possible?"

"No!" was the short, morose answer. "I was quite of the contrary opinion."

"And so was I! We judged wrongly, as it appears! This is the tame, patient, unpractical nation of thinkers! But I always said that in every one of these Germans lay hidden something of the bearish nature, and this seems now to have broken out all at once, among the whole people. It is no longer a struggle with changing fortunes; they throw down and crush all that comes in their way. An unblest success!"

"But we are not at the end yet," said Alison coldly. "The Emperor's mercenary hordes are beaten, but the republic summon the whole land to arms; nation now stands arrayed against nation. We shall yet see if the German bear does not at last find his master!"

"I wish he would find him!" growled Atkins surlily. "I wish he could be driven back over his Rhine, so that the intoxication and pride of victory might for all time be taken from him, and he again learn to dance tamely and patiently as when–"

The American got no further in his pious wishes for the future weal of Germany. Jane had suddenly risen, and stood erect and tall before him; her eyes flamed down upon the little man as if she would annihilate him.

"You quite forgot Mr. Atkins, that I too am a German by birth, and the child of German parents," she said.

Atkins stood there as if thunderstruck. "You, Miss Jane?" he asked, scarce believing his ears.

"Yes, I! and I will not hear my fatherland spoken of in this way. Keep your revilings and your hopes for Mr. Alison's ears; he shares your wishes; but do not utter them in my presence; I will bear it no longer!"

And throwing back her head with a gesture of lofty scorn, she turned away from the two men, and vanished inside the door of the house.

"What was that?" asked Alison, after a momentary pause.

Atkins seemed just to have recovered from the consternation into which this scene had thrown him. "That was the father once again! Mr. Forest just as he lived and moved! That was the very tone, the very glance with which he so imperiously felled down all that opposed him! I have never before encountered this in Jane; have you, Henry?"

Alison was silent; his eyes, with a consuming glow, had rested upon Jane during the whole, time she had stood before Atkins; they now seemed fixed upon the place where she had vanished, and there was far, very far more of admiration than of anger in their glance.

"I thought Mr. Forest hated his fatherland," he said at last, slowly, "and that he educated his daughter in that hatred."

"Oh, yes, he quarrelled with Germany his whole life long, and in his dying hour, like a despairing man, clung to its remembrance. We never thoroughly learn to know this people, Henry! I was for twenty years in Forest's house, I shared sorrow and joy with him, I knew his most secret affairs; and still, forever and eternally, one thing lay between us, this one which the most bitter experiences, the most energetic will, which the associations of twenty years could not banish from the father's heart, and which now bursts its barriers in the daughter who has inherited all this, whose education is American through and through:–this German blood!"

They were interrupted. The officer they had been expecting now appeared in the village street, accompanied by a soldier. Henry advanced some steps to meet him, and saluted him politely; then summoning all his bad French he began to explain his embarrassments; but after the first hasty words, he spoke more slowly, then stopped, began anew, and stopped again, and at last was wholly silent; his eyes fixed, staring, and immovable, upon the face of the officer.

He too was equally surprised; he stepped back a few paces, but in so doing, he had also approached Mr. Atkins, who now, with an expression of mingled surprise and terror, cried:

"Professor Fernow!"

Henry trembled; this outcry gave him a certainty as to whose eyes they were which had beamed upon him from under the helmet. Every drop of blood vanished from the face of the young American; with one single glance he took in the whole appearance of the officer standing before him; a second flew back to the house where Jane still lingered. He seemed to comprehend something. A wild half suppressed "Ah!" broke from his lips, then he set his teeth firmly, and was silent. Atkins had meantime saluted Lieutenant Fernow, who with calm politeness now turned to both gentlemen.

"I regret that it must be I who announce to you unpleasant tidings; but the desired continuation of your journey is impossible. No one can pass; the guards have strict orders to make everyone turn back, whoever he may be."

"But, Professor Fernow, we must go on!" said Atkins in vexation, "and you know us well enough to assure the authorities that we are not spies."

"It is impossible to make any exceptions. I am sorry, Mr. Atkins, but the passes are guarded, and no civilian is allowed to pass from this side into the mountain region. It is possible the order may be recalled to-morrow, as we are expecting re-inforcements; but to-day, it stands in full force."

"Well, then, you will at least have the goodness to inform us where, according to your august decision, we are to pass the night. We cannot go back; the several places through which we have passed are thronged with soldiers, and we are not allowed to go forward; here in the village we can scarce count upon entertainment. Are we to camp in our carriages?"

"That will not be necessary. You are–alone?"

There should have been no question in these words; the answer was self-evident; still there lay in them an unconscious hesitation.

Atkins was about to answer, but Alison cut short his reply. He had made his conclusion.

"Yes," he said very emphatically.

"Then I think I can offer you the hospitality of my comrades. We have room enough in the castle, and our acquaintanceship," here a smile flitted over his face, "guards you from every possible suspicion. Excuse me just for a moment."

He stepped to the guard standing near, and exchanged a word with him.

"And this is the former professor of B. University!" muttered Atkins with suppressed anger. "The bookworm has such a military bearing, one would think he had all his life carried a sword at his side; and there is not the least trace of the consumption to be seen about him now."