Part 21 (2/2)
”And could you have loved a man who had risen thus?” he asked at last, with suppressed suffering in his tone. ”Could you have stood beside him in toil and danger, perhaps in defeat? Answer me, Erna,--I entreat you!”
Erna s.h.i.+vered; the light in her eyes faded, as she replied, coldly, ”What need to ask? The question comes too late! One thing I know: the man who denied and crushed out his love for the sake of the gold which another hand could bestow, who bought his future because he lacked courage to create it, I never could have loved,--never!”
She took a long breath, as if with the words she cast aside a burden, and turned her back to him. Griff suddenly became restless; he perceived the approach of the rest although their advance was as yet inaudible; his mistress understood him.
”Are they coming?” she asked, in an undertone. ”Let us go to meet them, Griff.”
She slowly crossed the meadow, where the dew lay heavy and glistening.
Wolfgang made no attempt to detain her: he stood motionless. The last of the mountain-fires had just sunk to ashes; it glimmered aloft for a few moments like a faint and fading star and then vanished.
The peak of the Wolkenstein, on the contrary, was plainly visible; the mists that had been hovering around it seemed to melt in the moonlight, and the ice-crowned summit stood forth distinct and glistening. She had unveiled herself, the haughty sovereign of the mountain-range, and sat enthroned aloft in her phantom-like beauty, while above her realm brooded the silent mystery of the midsummer night, with its ghostly hint of buried treasures ascending from hidden depths and awaiting discovery,--the ancient, solemn midsummer-eve of St. John.
CHAPTER XIII.
AN OUTRAGED WIFE.
The Sunday following St. John's day had always been a great holiday in Oberstein. The little mountain-village where Dr. Reinsfeld lived had, it is true, lost somewhat of its secluded character by the invasion of the railway in the vicinity. The labourers on the road frequented it, and some of the young engineers had their quarters in the little inn, but the place was still very humble in appearance.
The doctor's house was in no contrast to its surroundings; it was a small cottage, scantily furnished,--indeed barely provided with the necessities of life. The s.e.xton's widow acted as the young physician's housekeeper, and her ideas of the duties of her position were primitive in the extreme. Only a nature as content and una.s.suming as Benno's could have long endured existence here. His predecessors had never remained long, while this was the fifth year that he had pa.s.sed in this place, undaunted by its hards.h.i.+ps, and with no present prospect of leaving it.
His study was indeed a contrast to the charming, comfortable apartments inhabited by Superintendent Elmhorst. The whitewashed walls were dest.i.tute of decoration save for a couple of portraits of Reinsfeld's parents. An old worm-eaten writing-table, with an arm-chair covered with leather which had once been black, a very hard sofa with a coa.r.s.e linen cover, and a table and chairs of equal antiquity,--such was the furniture, all purchased from the former occupant, of the room in which the doctor lived, and laboured, and gave advice, and even, as on the present occasion, received visits. His cousin Albert Gersdorf was with him.
The lawyer had come from Heilborn the day before, and had found a guest already installed here, Veit Gronau, whom he also knew, and who was recovering here from the effects of his disaster on the Vulture Cliff.
The painful sprain from which he was suffering was not serious, but prevented his walking. He had been with some difficulty brought as far down the mountain as Oberstein, and here Reinsfeld had offered to take charge of the patient until the sprain was cured; an offer which had been gratefully accepted.
The two cousins had not met for years, and their interchange of letters had been infrequent, so that Benno's joyful surprise was natural when Gersdorf made his unexpected appearance. He had just persuaded him to protract his stay somewhat, and said, delightedly, ”So, then, that is all arranged: you will stay until the day after to-morrow; that's right; and your young wife will have no objection to being left so long with her parents in Heilborn.”
”Oh, she is extremely content there,” Gersdorf explained; but there was an unusual gravity in his voice and manner.
The doctor gave him a keen glance: ”See here, Albert: when you arrived yesterday it struck me that something was wrong. I thought you would bring your wife. Surely you have not quarrelled?”
”No, Benno, 'tis not so bad as that. I have simply been forced to make my father- and mother-in-law understand that their unt.i.tled son-in-law is perfectly capable of maintaining his position.”
”Aha! 'sits the wind in that corner?' What has happened?”
”Not much. As I told you, we promised to finish our wedding-tour by a visit to my wife's parents in Heilborn, where my mother-in-law is taking the waters. We found her there in a very exclusive circle, which graciously admitted me, although it made me quite sensible that I owed the honour to my having married a Baroness Ernsthausen. I showed but little appreciation of the amiable reception accorded me, inasmuch as I declined joining a picnic arranged for yesterday. Of course this provoked much aristocratic indignation; my respected mother-in-law declared me a tyrant, maintaining that her friends alone were fit a.s.sociates for her daughter, and at last inducing Molly to be obstinate. I told her she was perfectly free to accept the invitation for herself, and she did so.”
”And went without you?”
”Without me. An hour afterwards I was on my way to see you,--I meant at all events to see you before I went back to the city,--leaving behind me a brief note explaining my absence.”
”It was a great piece of audacity on your part to marry into so aristocratic a family,” said Benno, shaking his head. ”You see marriage by no means puts an end to your troubles.”
”No, but I was perfectly well aware that I should have to fight my way to independence.”
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