“I stood,” she said, “looking at the great palace where they told me Count Stephen lived, and could not bring myself to think it was not a dream that such as I should have business there! “I sat down on the steps of a church in front of it, and gazed for hours long at the great door through which you must have passed so often, and the windows which doubtless you stood at – perhaps thinking of poor Nelly! At last came Hanserl to say that he had obtained leave to see the palace; and oh, how my heart beat at the words, – for there was pride as well as humiliation in the thought, – and so we went in, and, crossing the great court, ascended the wide staircase. How beautiful it all was, those marble statues, – the rich frescos of the ceilings, – the gorgeous lamps, all emblazoned with armorial emblems; and yet I thought less of these than the polished steps which your feet had trodden, and which I could have kissed for your sake. “I had not imagined so much magnificence. You will smile, perhaps, at my simplicity, but so did not that kind old soldier with the wooden leg, who took such pains to show us everything. He was evidently pleased to witness our admiring wonder, and actually laughed at Hanserl’s enthusiasm for all those bright scimitars and shields of Turkish make, the horse-tailed banners, and other emblems of Austrian victory; while I stole away silently into a little chamber all hung with blue damask, over the mantelpiece of which was a portrait of our own dear Frank. How I felt that the room was yours, Kate, – how my heart told me each object you had touched, – and how they all became to my delighted senses like precious relics, revealing stores of affection laid up in your bosom, and showing a wealth of love I was not conscious of till then. Oh, no, dearest sister, I never knew, till then, how things without life themselves can be the links between beating hearts! I looked everywhere for a portrait of yourself, and it was only by asking the old corporal that I succeeded in finding it. ‘The Gräfin’s picture is in the Field-Marshal’s own room,’ said he, with pride, and led the way towards it. Oh, Kate, how beautiful – nay, it is Nelly, your own stern Nelly, who never flattered you herself nor could bear others to do so – it is Nelly, the same Nelly, unchanged, save in being less trustful, less impulsive, less forgiving than you knew her, and she tells you that at sight of such loveliness she stood wonderstruck and fascinated. Had you been really then before me, such as the picture represented, I had not dared to approach you; there was that of nobility and grandeur that had appalled my poor peasant heart, unused to the glitter of diamonds and the queenly air of high-born beauty; but, as I gazed on the likeness, long and steadily, this expression faded away, and, as though the lineaments were changing, I thought the eyes grew softer; they seemed to moisten, the lips trembled, the bosom heaved and fell, and it was you – you! as I had pressed you to my heart a thousand times – my own! my own! I know not what foolish words I may have uttered, nor to what excess my rapture carried me, but I was weeping bitterly as they led me away, – ay, bitterly, Kate; for such ecstasy as I felt finds its true vent in sorrow! But now I am happy once more, – happy that I have seen you and dear Frank, – happy that each of us in life has trodden the path that best became him! and so I came away, with many a lingering look, and many a backward glance, at what I was never to see again. “Here, in my mountain home, once more I can sit, alone, and think of you for days. You wander through all my thoughts, the characters of endless stories, in every imaginable vicissitude, and with every change of fortune; but throughout all, Kate – good and beautiful – truthful too, as you ever were. There, my tears have blotted out what I tried to say, nor dare I trust myself with more. My school children are already coming through the vineyard; I hear their song, – it was your own long ago: – ‘Da sind die Täge lang gennch, Da sind die Nachte milde.’ “Good-bye, good-bye, my sister – my dear sister.
“N. D. Meran.”
“Oh, let us hasten thither at once!” cried Kate, in rapture. “Oh, dear uncle, let us away to Meran.”
“Not till after Tuesday, Kate,” whispered George, passionately; and the words covered her cheeks with blushes as she heard them.
The reader knows now all that we care to tell him. Time was when story-tellers wound up with a kind wish that, “if they were not happy, that you and I may be.” Nor am I quite certain that we are wiser in our vocation than when those words were in vogue.
We are not vain enough to suppose that we have inspired an interest for any of those characters who have supported the minor parts of our drama. Should such good fortune have happily attended us, let us say, once for all, that Messrs. Haggerstone, Jekyl, and Purvis yet survive; that the Ricketts family are in excellent health, autograph gathering and duke courting, poetizing and painting, and pilfering, with all the ardor of youth, untouched by years and unrestrained by conscience. Lady Hester, too, is again living abroad, and, after trying three new changes of religion, is in treaty with a Heidelberg professor for a “spick-and-span” new faith, which will transcend everything hitherto known, and make even Mormonism ashamed of itself.
As for Prince Midchekoff, he and my Lady Norwood are the delight of a foreign city which shall be nameless, and their receptions nightly crowded by all the fashionable celebrities and distinguished visitors of that favored region.
THE END.