Part 95 (1/2)

”When you are gone, Brentwood and I mean to live together, to console one another.”

”My dear, are you coming in?” said Mrs. Buckley. ”Here is a letter for you, which I ought to have given you before.”

The Major went in and received the mysterious epistle which the captain had brought the night before. When he saw it he whistled.

They sat waiting to know the contents. He was provokingly long in opening it, and when he did, he said nothing, but read it over twice with a lengthening visage. Now also it became apparent that there was another letter inside, at the superscription of which the Major having looked, put it in his pocket, and turning round to the mantel-piece, with his back to the others, began drumming against the fender with his foot, musingly.

A more aggravating course of proceeding he could not have resorted to.

Here they were all dying of curiosity, and not a word did he seem inclined to answer. At last, Mrs. Buckley, not able to hold out any longer, said,--

”From the Governor, was it not, my love?”

”Yes,” he said, ”from the Governor. And very important too,” and then relapsed into silence.

Matters were worse than ever. But after a few minutes he turned round to them suddenly, and said,--

”You have heard of Baron Landstein.”

”What,” said Sam, ”the man that the Doctor's always abusing so? Yes, I know all about him, of course.”

”The n.o.ble Landstein,” said Alice. ”In spite of the Doctor's abuse he is a great favourite of mine. How well he seems to have behaved at Jena with those two Landwehr regiments.”

”Landsturm, my love,” said the Major.

”Yes, Landsturm I mean. I wonder if he is still alive, or whether he died of his wounds.”

”The Doctor,” said Sam, ”always speaks of him as dead.”

”He is not only alive,” said the Major, ”but he is coming here. He will be here to-day. He may come any minute.”

”What! the great Landstein,” said Sam.

”The same man,” said the Major.

”The Doctor will have a quarrel with him, father. He is always abusing him. He says he lost the battle of Jena, or something.”

”Be quiet, Sam, and don't talk. Watch what follows.”

The Doctor was seen hurrying up the garden-walk. He put down his gun outside, and bursting open the gla.s.s door, stepped into the room, holding aloft a black bird, freshly killed, and looking around him for applause.

”There!” he said; ”I told you so.”

The Major walked across the room, and put a letter in his hand, the one which was enclosed in the mysterious epistle before mentioned. ”Baron,”

he said, ”here is a letter for you.”

The Doctor looked round as one would who had received a blow, and knew not who smote him. He took the letter, and went into the window to read it.

No one spoke a word. ”This, then, my good old tutor,” thought Sam, ”turns out to be the great Landstein. Save us, what a piece of romance.” But though he thought this, he never said anything, and catching Alice's eye, followed it to the window. There, leaning against the gla.s.s, his face buried in his hands, and his broad back shaking with emotion, stood Doctor Mulhaus. Alas! no. Our kindly, good, hearty, learned, irritable, but dearly-beloved old friend, is no more. There never was such a man in reality: but in his place stands Baron von Landstein of the Niederwald.