Part 24 (1/2)
Albert's conscience was too honest not to feel embarra.s.sed at some of Bertha's scrutinising questions; and when she wished to have her curiosity satisfied upon the subject of his coming to Lichtenstein at so strange an hour of the night he scarcely knew what to answer. Her beautiful eye rested upon him with such an expression of inquisitive penetration, that, though he would gladly have escaped the reproach of harbouring a momentary idea of her want of fidelity, he would not for all the world tell her an untruth.
”I will own,” he said, with a confused look, ”that I was infatuated by the hostess at Pfullingen; she told me something about you, which I could not hear with indifference.”
”The hostess? about me?” cried Bertha, smiling; ”well, but what brought you, at that late hour of the night, to this place?”
”Never mind, dearest; we'll not think of it any more. I know I acted like a fool. The exiled knight has quite convinced me how wrong I was.”
”No, no,” she replied, earnestly, ”I am not going to let you escape so cheap; what had that chatterbox to say about me? tell me immediately----”
”Well, then, I give you leave to laugh at me as much as you please: she told me you had another lover, who came to visit you every night, whilst your father slept.”
Bertha blushed; indignation, and the inclination to smile at a ridiculous story, contended for the mastery on her expressive features.
”Well, I hope,” she replied, ”you repelled the calumny with proper contempt, and left her house immediately. That was the reason, I suppose, of your arriving here so late, with the intention of pa.s.sing the night under our roof.”
”I honestly avow, I had no such thought. You know I was not quite convalescent, so excuse my weakness. I really did not believe her at first; but when she brought your nurse, old Rosel, to substantiate what she said, and who moreover lamented that I had been deceived, I----oh, do not turn away from me, Bertha; do not be angry! I threw myself on my horse, and rode direct to the castle, for the purpose of exchanging a word with him who dared to love you.”
”And could you believe that?” she answered, with tears starting into her eyes: ”I cannot think that Rosel said any thing of the kind, though she is fond of a gossip; I am not angry with the hostess, for she does not know better; but that you, you Albert, should give credit to so foul a falsehood, and think it necessary to convince yourself, that----” The tears of the faithful girl flowed in abundance; and the feeling of mortification choked her further utterance.
Her lover was overcome by the sense of his egregious folly; but he also felt the consolation, that though he was to be blamed his suspicions arose purely out of the intensity of his love. ”Pardon me this once, dearest; let me a.s.sure you, that the jealousy which tormented me, unfounded as it was, would never have been inflamed into reality, did not my whole existence depend upon you.”
”He who really loves can never harbour a spark of jealousy, founded upon such reports,” said Bertha, in displeasure; ”you hinted something of the same kind once before in Ulm, which you know hurt me very deeply. But if you had known me, and loved me with the same unalterable attachment that I love you, you never could have entertained such thoughts.”
”No, truly, but you must not be unjust,” he replied, and took her hand; ”how can you reproach me with not returning your love with the same ardent sincerity? Was it impossible that one more worthy than Albert von Sturmfeder might appear, and supplant him in your heart by some infernal enchantment? Every thing is possible in this world.”
”Possible!” interrupted Bertha; and a certain pride, which Albert had often remarked in the daughter of Lichtenstein, appeared now to animate her; ”possible? if you ever could have entertained such an opinion of me,--I repeat it, Albert von Sturmfeder,--you have never loved me. A man must not allow himself to be blown about like a reed; he ought to stand firm to his opinion; and if he loves, he must have faith also.”
”I have not merited such a reproach, from you at least,” said the young man, starting up in great excitement; ”I have been, indeed, as you say, a reed shaken about in the wind, and many a man will despise me----”
”That may be!” she whispered to herself, but not so lightly as to escape his ear, and cause his displeasure to blaze up into rage.
”Can you upbraid me thus,” said he, ”you, who are the sole cause of my vaccilating conduct? Did I not seek you among the friends of the League; and when I found you, was I not overjoyed? You entreated me to quit their colours,--I did so; and still more, I came over to your party, and, though it nearly cost me my life, I held firm to my determination. I visited your father, who received me as a son; and rejoiced that I had bound myself to the Duke's cause. But his daughter compares me to a reed moved by every blast of wind! but once more I will----for the last time, allow myself to be moved by you; I'll leave you, as you requite my love thus; in an hour hence, I wish you farewell.” With these last words he girded on his sword; and, taking his cap, turned to depart.
”Albert,” cried Bertha, with the sweetest accent, at the same time springing up and seizing his hand; her pride, her displeasure, every trace of ill-will vanished in a moment, and entreating love only beamed from her eyes, ”for G.o.d's sake, Albert! I did not mean to speak so angrily; remain, I will forget every thing; I am ashamed of myself for having betrayed so unkind a spirit.”
But the anger of the young man was not to be appeased in a moment. He turned away, lest her looks should master his resolution of leaving the castle. ”No!” he cried, ”you shall not turn the reed back again; but you may tell your father the cause which has driven his guest from his house.” The windows trembled with the sound of his voice; he looked about him with wildness; he tore his hand away from Bertha's grasp; and, followed by her, he hastily opened the door to fly from her presence, when an apparition arrested his attention on the threshold which we shall describe in the next chapter.
CHAPTER XXII.
Prince's favour, April's sky, Woman's love, the rose's dye, Cards, dice, and weatherc.o.c.ks are still Chang'd about, believe't who will.
OLD PROVERB.
The apparition which so opportunely arrested the attention of Albert on opening the door, was no other than the old nurse, Rosel, hastily rising from a bent position she had taken up at the keyhole. She was one of those old servants, who, having been brought up in the family from her youth, was firmly rooted in it, and now formed one of its princ.i.p.al branches. Since the death of the Lady of Lichtenstein, Bertha's mother, she had shewn her attachment to the family in the a.s.siduous care she had taken in bringing up her charge. Having pa.s.sed through the different gradations, from nursery-maid to nurse, from nurse to housekeeper, she now occupied the more important post of governess and confidant to her foster-child. Greatly jealous of others, and ambitious to secure all authority in her own hands, she filled for many years the different important domestic situations of the castle, making herself universally necessary in all its concerns. Having gained an ascendancy over her master, who never found fault with her, at least before others, she gave out that she was essential in the management of the domestic affairs of the family, that without her superintendence, things could not go on right.
Of late, she had not lived on the best terms with her young mistress.
In the days of her childhood and first youth, she had possessed her whole confidence. Even in Tubingen she was partly in the secret of Bertha's love; and old Rosel took such an interest in every thing that related to her child, as she always called her, as to speak in the first person plural, ”_We_ love Albert von Sturmfeder most tenderly,”--or ”_Our_ heart is ready to break in parting from him.”
Two circ.u.mstances, however, tended to weaken this confidence. The young lady remarked, that her nurse was too fond of gossiping, that she had been even watching her movements, and had been t.w.a.ttling with others about her intimacy with Albert; she, therefore, grew more reserved towards the old woman, who very soon guessed the cause of it. But when the journey to Ulm was undertaken, and she had provided herself with a new woollen-stuff gown, and a superb brocade cap, upon the occasion, her disappointment knew no bounds upon being ordered to remain at Lichtenstein. This widened the breach between her and Bertha, for she attributed the cause of her not accompanying the family to her mistress.
Confidence between them was not restored after the knight of Lichtenstein returned with his daughter to the castle from Ulm. Old Rosel, who always preferred the society of her superiors to that of the domestics, endeavoured to obtain some information from Bertha about Albert, hoping thus to re-establish herself in her good graces; but Bertha, whose heart was then full of the late painful occurrences at the meeting with her lover, and still suspicious of the discretion of her nurse, would not satisfy her curiosity. When, therefore, the exile visited the castle at stated hours every night, and her young lady secretly prepared his meal, and, as her nurse thought, remained alone with him for a length of time, she gratified her pique towards her mistress by opening her heart to the hostess of the Golden Stag at Pfullingen upon the subject. No wonder, then, that Albert was led to believe every word he heard; because, having only known the nurse as the confidant of his love, he was not aware that the intimacy between her and Bertha had suffered interruption.