Vineta, the Phantom City

"Do you not love the assessor?" he asked, breathlessly. "Do you not intend to give him your hand?"

"I never dreamed of such a thing," replied Gretchen, very decidedly; and she was about to add some remarks not at all complimentary to poor Hubert, when her eyes met the doctor's ardent gaze. She blushed deeply, and was silent.

A long pause followed. Fabian had a hard struggle with his timid nature; several times he sought in vain to speak; but meanwhile his eyes spoke, and so plainly that Gretchen could not remain in doubt as to what was coming. She now felt no impulse to run away, or to break piano-strings, as at that moment when Hubert had been on the point of making a declaration. She resumed her seat, and awaited the inevitable.

After a while, the doctor approached her timidly and anxiously.

"My dear young lady," he began, "I really believed–that is–I supposed–the ardent affection of the assessor for you–"

He stopped, and bethought himself that it was very unwise to be speaking of the assessor's ardent affection when he ought to speak of his own. Gretchen saw that he was becoming hopelessly involved in his phrases, and that she must come to his rescue. It was only a glance she gave her bashful wooer, but it spoke as plainly as his own had spoken a few moments before. The doctor all at once took courage, and went on with incredible boldness:–

"That error has made me very unhappy," he began. "Still I would not have ventured to confess it to you, even so short a time ago as yesterday. Dependent as I was upon Waldemar's magnanimity, how could I give utterance to the dearest wish of my heart? A moment ago, Fräulein Margaret, you reproached me for possessing a too self-sacrificing nature; if you knew the life of renunciation I have led, you would take back the reproach. I have passed through life neglected and solitary from my childhood; I have pursued my studies only through the greatest self-denial, and they have yielded me nothing but dependence upon the whims and generosity of strangers. It is galling to a man, spurred on by high and noble purposes and possessed of a heart glowing with enthusiasm for science, to descend, day after day, to the intellect of a boy, and instruct him in the rudiments of learning. This was my lot until Waldemar made it possible for me to devote myself to study, and paved my way to the career which is now open before me. I had, in truth, resolved to sacrifice this career for his sake, and also to keep the fact of my call to it a secret. Then I looked upon you as the affianced bride of another, but now,"–he took her hand, all his embarrassment vanished, while words came thronging to his lips,–"but now that my future is so full of promise, it depends upon you whether it shall bring me happiness. Decide for me, Margaret; shall I accept or decline the position?"

He had reached the very place where the assessor had made his great dramatic pause preparatory to falling upon his knees, and where he had been checked by the precipitate departure of his adored. The doctor, however, made no attempt at kneeling; he spoke on without hesitation, while Margaret sat near him with downcast eyes, and listened with intense satisfaction. Formal proposal, acceptance, and betrothal kiss followed in quick succession, and Doctor Fabian's future was decided.

Assessor Hubert came down the stairs. He had subjected the coachman to a detailed and lengthy examination, until both were weary; he now proposed to rest from fatiguing official duties, and give free course to the emotions of his heart. Poor Hubert! As he had said, it was always his misfortune to arrive too late. He had as yet no suspicion of the way in which the words would be verified to-day. He was to leave this afternoon, and he had resolved to come to a positive understanding with Margaret before his departure. He was resolved to leave Villica as her accepted lover, and in the ardor of this resolution he opened the hall-door so boisterously, that the newly-betrothed couple found time to assume an unembarrassed attitude. As he entered the room, Margaret sat at a window, and the doctor stood near her in front of the piano, which to Hubert's relief was closed. Hubert greeted the doctor graciously, but condescendingly; he had always treated him in a patronizing manner, as a mere salaried tutor of no consequence whatever excepting as the chosen friend of the master of Villica. Now, as he had resolved to propose at once, he thought Fabian's presence a great intrusion, and took no pains to conceal that fact.

"I regret disturbing you," he said; "you are doubtless giving your pupil her French lesson."

He said this in a tone so supercilious, that even Doctor Fabian, so accustomed to being addressed by him as a hired teacher, was offended. Hitherto he had not resented Hubert's treatment, but to-day, his new dignity as Margaret's accepted lover would brook no slight or insult. Drawing himself up, he said with an emphasis that delighted Margaret,–

"You mistake; we are taking lessons in an entirely different science."

The assessor paid no heed to the words; he was wholly absorbed in devising some way to get rid of this tiresome, intrusive man.

"Are you giving lessons in history?" he asked, maliciously. "I believe that is your hobby; but unfortunately, it is not a science pleasing to young ladies. I fear you will weary Fräulein Frank with it, Doctor Fabian."

A reply was on the doctor's lips, but Gretchen anticipated him. Thinking it high time to silence the assessor, she undertook that duty with no small delight.

"You will soon have to address Doctor Fabian by another title," she said. "He is about to accept a professorship in the university of J–, which has been offered him on account of his great literary and scientific acquirements."

"Wh–a–t are you saying?" cried the assessor, with a start, and an expression of utter incredulity. He could not reconcile himself to this sudden transformation of the neglected Fabian into a university professor.

The doctor's amiable disposition had again won the mastery. His sympathetic nature was troubled at thought of the double wound he must necessarily inflict upon the nephew of his rival and the unsuccessful wooer of his betrothed.

"Herr Assessor," he began, believing that Hubert was acquainted with recent events at the university, which was by no means the case,–"I regret that your uncle has so misunderstood me. No one can be more sincere than myself in recognition of his great ability. Let me assure you that I have not taken the least part in the strife which my 'History of Ancient Germany' has provoked. Professor Schwarz seems to believe that I instigated the dispute and carried it to its present pitch from selfish motives."

A terrible light now began to dawn upon the assessor. He had not known the name of the obscure man whom the opposition had chosen for its champion, and whose first book had begun to be compared with, and even placed above his uncle's works; but he was aware that a "History of Ancient Germany" was the prime cause of the dispute, and Fabian's words left him in no doubt that the author of this book, this intriguer, this assailer of his family renown, stood before him. He was on the point of giving vent to his astonishment and indignation, when Gretchen, who felt called upon to assert her dignity as the future wife of the professor, interposed,–

"Yes," she said, "the professor may well believe this, since Doctor Fabian has an urgent call to replace him, and accept the chair of History at L–. You already know, I suppose, that your uncle has tendered his resignation?"

The assessor struggled so desperately for breath, that Fabian cast a look of entreaty upon his betrothed: but she remained inexorable. She could not forget that Hubert had boasted for months of her readiness to accept his suit, and she wanted to teach him a lesson. She therefore played her last card by formally grasping Doctor Fabian's hand and leading him up to the assessor with these words:–

"And furthermore, Herr Assessor, I have the pleasure of introducing to you in the person of Professor Fabian, the successor of your renowned uncle,–my future husband!"

"I believe the assessor is deranged," remarked Superintendent Frank to his overseer, as the two were standing in the yard. "He has just dashed out of the house like a lunatic, and rushed to his carriage without greeting me. He was in high spirits this morning. I fear this new chase after a conspiracy has turned his brain. Go and look after him, and see that no harm befalls him."

The overseer shrugged his shoulders, and pointed to Hubert's carriage, which was already in rapid motion. "It is too late," he said; "there the madman goes!"

Frank entered the house, and there learned the cause of the assessor's headlong flight, while the coachman, who stood gazing after the fugitive, said with a sigh of relief,–

"Thank Heaven, he has gone, and will quiz me no more!"

CHAPTER XXIII.

BROTHER AGAINST BROTHER

An ominous atmosphere brooded over Villica, filling all its inmates with gloomy foreboding. Since the return of Waldemar and Wanda from the border-forester's the night before, a storm had raged in the upper apartments of the castle, and it had not yet subsided. The young countess after an interview with her aunt, had shut herself up in her chamber, where she still remained. The princess also sought seclusion, and when she appeared, which was but seldom, her look and manner frightened the servants, who well knew that this knitted brow and these compressed lips boded no good. Waldemar also had lost that icy composure which he retained outwardly whatever storms might rage within his breast; he seemed dejected and irritated. Perhaps this was due to the fact that Wanda had twice to-day denied him an interview. He had not seen her since that moment when he had laid her swooning and unconscious in the arms of his mother. She refused to see him, and yet he knew that she was not seriously ill; the physician had repeatedly assured him that her wound was not dangerous.

Waldemar, however, had but little time for personal matters, so many outside things demanded his attention. The forester's corpse was brought to Villica, and with it came tidings that all his men had fled beyond the border. The forester's range was confided to other hands. In the midst of all these preoccupations, Assessor Hubert kept coming with inquiries and advice, until Waldemar lost all patience, and summarily dismissed the troublesome official. Scarce was he rid of the assessor, when other concerns demanded his immediate attention.

The authorities of L– had been informed of the position and the plans of the insurgent forces over the border; a fight was daily expected, and orders had been given to reinforce the frontier garrison. A large detachment of soldiers passed through Villica, and during a brief halt in the village its officers called upon Herr Nordeck, who was obliged to entertain them alone. Now that he had taken an open stand against her party, his mother refused to receive his guests. Late in the afternoon the detachment moved on in season to reach the designated post before dark; and now came Doctor Fabian, the accepted lover and future professor, with his double tidings, which he hoped would call forth the interest and sympathy of his former pupil, compelling him to rejoice in another's happiness while he saw his own sinking into irretrievable ruin. It required an iron nature like Waldemar's to preserve a semblance of equanimity under so many trying circumstances.

Two days had fled since the tragedy at the forester's house. The princess, having passed a restless night, had risen early, and was alone in her private parlor. The gray, misty dawn only partially lighted the lofty room, half of which still lay in shadow. The fire on the hearth threw an uncertain, flickering light upon the carpet and around the form of the lady who sat before it.

Lost in gloomy reflection, she rested her head upon her hand; her heart and mind were full of that event in which her niece had played so prominent a part. The woman who had hitherto shown herself equal to any emergency, was not equal to the present situation. The ruthlessness with which she had unveiled her niece's heart so as to arm her against the passion that had begun to enthrall her, the months of entire separation, that last warning at Radowicz,–all had been in vain; all had vanished before a danger that menaced Waldemar. Wanda had informed her aunt of everything that had occurred at the forester's house; she was too proud, too thoroughly identified with the cause of her people, to allow the least suspicion of treason to rest upon her. She assured her aunt that she had sent no warning, had awakened no suspicion, that she had intervened only at the last moment when nothing else would have saved Waldemar. The wound on her arm attested the manner in which she had intervened.

Waldemar's entrance aroused the princess from these torturing reflections. She knew the reason of his coming. Paul had informed her that after three futile attempts to gain an interview with Wanda that morning, Herr Nordeck had at last succeeded. He approached slowly, and paused before his mother.

"Do you come from Wanda?" she asked.

"I do."

The mother gazed intently into her son's face, which was flushed with excitement, and yet wore an expression of intense but suppressed sorrow.

"Then, in spite of her remonstrances, you forced your way to her! You have at least learned that it was not my command which closed Wanda's door against you. She expressly declared that she did not wish to see you."

"I had a right to see and to speak with Wanda, who has risked her life for me," he said; "I was compelled to speak with her. O, remain calm," he added, bitterly, as the princess was about to make an angry reply; "your niece has fully justified your expectations, and done her best to deprive me of all hope. She insists that she is following her own wishes, while she is blindly submissive to yours; she only echoes your words and opinions. She would have yielded to my influence, if she had not been so completely under yours. You have persuaded her that the promise, which as a mere child you almost forced her to give my brother, is an irrevocable vow, and that to break it would be a deadly sin. You have so inoculated her with your national prejudices–"

"Waldemar!" interposed the princess.

"With your national prejudices," he repeated, emphatically, "that she thinks it would be treason to her family and to her people to consent to be my wife, because I chance to be a German, and circumstances compel me to oppose your party schemes. Yes, you have attained your wish; she would sooner die than lift her hand to free herself from her engagement, or give me permission to free her. For this I have to thank you alone."

"I have certainly reminded Wanda of her duty," replied the princess, coldly. "I hardly needed to do so, for she had already come to her senses; I hope that you may soon do the same. Since that day when you in this very room declared yourself my enemy, I have known that your former boyish fancy had grown into an ardent passion, and the events of the last two days have taught me to what an extent that passion is returned. It would be useless to censure you for what has happened, the past cannot be recalled, but you and Wanda must now be conscious that you owe Leo nothing less than absolute separation. Wanda already understands this, and you must submit to it."

"Must I?" asked Waldemar. "Mother, you know that submission is not one of my virtues, and can I submit here, where my life's happiness is at stake?"

The princess gazed at him with an expression of surprise and terror. "What does this mean?" she asked. "Will you attempt to rob your brother of his bride, after having robbed him of her love?"

"Leo has never possessed Wanda's love; she knew neither herself nor her heart when she yielded to his affection, yielded to her father's wishes and to yours, and to family plans. Her love belongs to me; and now that I have this certainty, I shall know how to assert my claim to what is rightfully my own."

"Do not be so positive, Waldemar!" said the princess, almost derisively. "Have you considered what response your brother will give to such presumption?"

"I would release my betrothed if she declared to me that her love belonged to another; I would do it, no matter what such renunciation cost me. I know Leo, and I am sure he will adopt no such course; he will be beside himself, he will goad Wanda to desperation, and inflict a series of terrible scenes upon us all."

"Will you give him precepts upon moderation, you who are inflicting such a mortal wound upon him?" returned the mother. "Leo is absent, he is battling for the holiest rights of his people, and while he is hourly staking his life for his country, he does not suspect that his brother, at home, behind his back–"

She paused, for Waldemar's hand was laid heavily upon hers. "Mother," he said, in a voice that was full of warning, for in him this hollow, suppressed tone always preceded an eruption; "stop these accusations which you do not yourself believe! You know better than all others how Wanda and I have fought against this passion, you know what finally unsealed our lips. Behind Leo's back! The letter I wrote to him before my interview with Wanda is in my room; read it if you will. That interview changes nothing. He must know that we have confessed our love to each other, we have no wish to conceal it from him. I would like to confide my letter to you; you know where Leo is to be found, and can forward it to him."