Part 27 (2/2)
Hedwig could hardly have caught sight of her lover's face, but from the tone of his voice she became aware that for a moment he had given up all feigning. Instead of replying to his question, she laid her hand on his, and said very quietly:
'What is the matter with you, Edmund?'
'With me? nothing. I was inwardly swearing at the weather, which promises us nothing good for to-morrow. I know what this driving snow portends when once it fairly sets in among our mountains. Very possibly we shall be blockaded to-morrow, and not able to get out into the woods at all.'
'Well, give up your sport then. You take no real pleasure in it.'
Edmund frowned.
'Why should I not take pleasure in it?' he asked, in rather an angry tone.
'That question I should put to you. Why have you lost pleasure in all that you cared for formerly? Am I never to learn the trouble that is tormenting you and weighing on your spirits? I have, it seems to me, the best right to know it.'
'This is a regular inquisition,' cried Edmund, laughing. 'How can you take a momentary caprice, a mere pa.s.sing bout of ill-humour, so seriously to heart? But I notice you have got into the way of striking the pathetic chord on every possible occasion. If I would consent to do my part, we should be a most sentimental couple; unfortunately, I think that to be sentimental is invariably to be ridiculous.'
Hedwig turned away deeply wounded. It was not the first time that Edmund had repelled her with harsh derision. He had so met her every attempt to solve the strange riddle of his altered manner and behaviour. It seemed as though he must defend his secret to the death--defend it from her as from the rest of the world.
What a change had come over the youthful radiant pair, who had accepted it as a matter of course that Fortune should shower on them her best and brightest gifts, who had looked forward with such bright a.s.surance to the sunny future before them, and in whose playful mirth hardly a shade of earnestness had mingled! They had both made acquaintance with life's graver side, and if to the girl trouble were as yet but a cold dim shadow, obscuring all the sunlight, in Edmund's heart a flame had burst forth which burned with a consuming fire, and ofttimes directed its intensity against those who were nearest to him.
Hedwig turned to go. But she had only time to take a few steps; then Edmund's arm encircled her and held her fast.
'Have I pained you?' he asked. 'Scold me, Hedwig. Load me with reproaches, but do not go from me in this way. That is more than I can bear.'
The prayer for pardon was so pa.s.sionate, so earnest, that the girl's just anger gave way before it. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and said:
'I think this habit of constant sarcasm is bad for you as well as others. You do not know how harsh and cruel your words often sound.'
'I have been intolerably disagreeable of late, have I not?' said Edmund, with an attempt at playfulness. 'After the wedding you will see I shall be all the more charming. Then we will make our bow to the gay world, retire from the hurly-burly, and shut ourselves up in our fortress. Just at this present time I cannot bear tranquillity and solitude. But I look forward with an intense longing to the day which will unite us.'
'Do you really long for it?' asked Hedwig, looking fixedly at him.
'Sometimes, do you know, I have fancied you rather dreaded that day.'
The scarlet flush which mounted to the young man's brow almost seemed to bear out her words; yet the pa.s.sionate tenderness with which he folded his betrothed to his heart gave them contradiction.
'Dread? No, Hedwig! We love each other, do we not? And your love is given to me, to me personally, not to the Count Ettersberg, not to the heir of these estates? You had so many suitors to choose from, so many who could offer you wealth and fortune, and you chose me, because ... because you liked me best, was it not so?'
'Good heavens, how can such things come into your mind?' cried Hedwig, half frightened, half offended. 'How can you imagine that I ever gave them a thought?'
'I do not, I do not,' said Edmund, drawing a deep breath. 'And therefore I hold fast to that which is mine, mine alone, and will maintain it in the face of all. In your love, at least, I may believe.
That, at least, is no lie. If I were to be deceived here, if I must doubt and despair of you--then the sooner I make an end of it, the better.'
'Edmund, this wild talk of yours distracts me,' cried Hedwig, starting back, scared by his vehemence. 'You are ill, you must be ill, or you would not use such language.'
This anxious cry brought Edmund to his senses. He made a great effort to regain composure, and even succeeded in forcing a smile as he replied:
'Why, are you beginning that tale? A few minutes ago my mother was lecturing me, saying I was excited and overwrought. And in fact it is nothing more than that. I am nervous and unstrung, but the fit will pa.s.s. Everything comes to an end, you know, sooner or later. Do not be anxious, Hedwig. Now I must go and see if Everard has got all ready for my expected guests. I forgot to give him any special orders.
Excuse me for ten minutes, will you? I shall be with you again immediately.'
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