Part 26 (1/2)

Great hunts were held and shooting-parties organized by the landed proprietors in the neighbourhood, and to these b.a.l.l.s and other festivities were naturally superadded. There had been an almost uninterrupted series of fetes and entertainments ever since September.

If now and then, by some chance, the Brunneck family remained at home without visitors, there was so much to talk over and to discuss that anything like quiet domestic comfort was out of the question. Rustow had more than once declared that he could not hold out under such pressure much longer, and that he wished to heaven the wedding were over--then perhaps he might enjoy a little peace once more. The day of the great event was already fixed; in three weeks' time the marriage was to take place at Brunneck, and the newly-married couple would then proceed to Ettersberg, their future home.

In the drawing-room at the castle, where the family generally a.s.sembled when alone, the Countess sat with a book in her hand, reading, or appearing to read. Hedwig, who was paying one of her frequent visits to Ettersberg, stood by the window, looking out at the snow-clad landscape. Winter had long ago set in, and to-day there was a fine continuous fall of drizzling flakes which certainly did not induce to outdoor exercise.

'Edmund is not coming back yet,' said the young lady, breaking a silence which had lasted some considerable time. 'What an idea to ride out in such weather as this!'

'You know that it is his daily habit,' replied the Countess, without looking up from her book.

'But he has only taken up the habit of late. He used to be very sensitive on the score of the weather, and a shower of rain would send him home at once. Now he seems rather to prefer wild and stormy days for rus.h.i.+ng about the country, and he will stay out in the rain and snow for hours together.'

The words, or rather their tone, betrayed a certain unmistakable anxiety.

The Countess made no reply. She turned over the pages of her book, apparently absorbed by its interest, but a close observer would have remarked that she did not read a line.

Hedwig turned from the window, and, coming back into the room, approached her hostess.

'Do you not think that Edmund is strangely altered, mamma? I have noticed it for the last two months.'

'Altered? How? In what?'

'In everything.'

The Countess leaned her head on her hand, and again remained silent.

She clearly wished to avoid any discussion on this subject, but the young girl held steadily to her point.

'I have been wis.h.i.+ng to speak to you about this for some time, mamma.

I cannot conceal from you that Edmund's behaviour makes me feel very uneasy--frightens me, in fact. He is so different from what he used to be; so uneven and variable in mood and temper; so strange even in his manner towards me. He seems feverishly anxious that all the preparations for the wedding should be pushed on as quickly as possible, and, on the other hand, there are times when he shows himself to be quite indifferent, and so totally unsympathetic that I have fancied he may wish the marriage to be deferred.'

'Set your mind at rest, my child,' said the Countess, in a tone which was intended to be soothing, but which yet rang with concentrated bitterness. '_You_ have not lost his love. His tenderness towards you has suffered no change. I think you must feel this yourself. Edmund does appear rather excitable just now, I admit. He has been too gay, too much into company of late--indeed, we have all of us been involved in a perfect whirl of dissipation. Really, these incessant _reunions_, these meets, these dinners and evening parties, have hardly left us time to breathe. You yourself have been rather overtaxing your strength in this way, and it is not surprising if your nerves are a little tried by overmuch excitement.'

'I would willingly have refused half the invitations,' said Hedwig, with some emotion; 'but Edmund insisted on our accepting them. We have had no peace ever since September, but have been fairly driven from one fete, from one visit to another; and when we contrive to stay at home, meaning to rest a little, Edmund comes with some new proposal, or brings some new visitor to the house. It seems really as though he could not bear to be quiet an hour either here or at Brunneck, as though anything like solitude were a positive torture to him.'

The Countess's lips quivered, and accidentally, as it were, she turned her face away, replying, however, with perfect outward composure:

'Nonsense! Why indulge in such silly fancies? Edmund has always been fond of society, and you yourself formerly took delight in constant gaiety and pleasure. I should not have expected such a complaint from you, of all people. What has happened to produce such an alteration in your feelings?'

'I am anxious about Edmund,' confessed the young girl; 'and I see plainly that he takes no pleasure in all this dissipation, though he seems to seek it so eagerly. There is something so unnatural, so spasmodic in his mirth, that it gives me quite a pang to witness it.

Do not try to deny this either to me or to yourself, mamma. It is impossible you should not have remarked the change. I fear that in secret it troubles you as much as it troubles myself.'

'What avails my trouble or anxiety?' said the Countess, almost harshly. 'Edmund cares nothing for either.' Then, with a quick diversion, as though feeling that she had said too much, she added, with a.s.sumed coldness, 'You must learn to understand your husband's character and little ways without a.s.sistance from anyone else, my dear. He is not quite so easy to manage as you perhaps imagined at the outset. But he loves you--this is certain, and you will therefore have no great difficulty in discovering the proper course to take. I have made up my mind never to interfere between you. You see that I have even abandoned the idea of living under one roof with my son and his wife.'

The rebuff was plain enough. Hedwig felt chilled to the soul, as had often been the case when she had attempted to win from her future mother-in-law any mark of hearty confidence or affection. That interview with Oswald had shown her what a rock lay ahead, and what a rival she would have in the Countess; but on this occasion she felt that the cool repellent answer had been prompted by some other motive than mere jealousy. There was some secret misunderstanding between Edmund and his mother.

Hedwig had long remarked this fact, though they strove outwardly to preserve their old demeanour. In the first days of the engagement the Countess had relinquished none of her claims, had shown herself by no means inclined to yield to her successor the first place in her son's affections. Why should she suddenly make open renunciation of her influence? The step was little in accordance with her character.

In the eagerness of their talk, the two ladies had failed to hear the sound of a horse's hoofs without. They turned in some surprise as the door opened, and the young Count appeared. He had laid aside his hat and overcoat, but a snowflake still hung here and there in his dark hair, and his heated face showed how wild had been the ride from which he had just returned. He came in quickly, and pressed his lips hastily, almost roughly, to Hedwig's brow, as she went forward to meet him.

'You have been out two whole hours, Edmund,' said the young girl, with an accent of reproach. 'If the snow-storm had set in earlier, I should not have let you go.'