Part 3 (1/2)
”Yes, unluckily, rather too excellent!” George exclaimed. ”I believe he never committed a folly in his life, and people must do foolish things, your reverence, otherwise men wouldn't be men; it can't be helped.”
”You have certainly given sufficient proof of that. Your father and mother are anxious about how their reckless and somewhat quarrelsome son may fare in a foreign land. I promised to have an eye on you, but I think you have kept the promise you made me when you left. Where did you get that b.u.mp on your forehead?”
George hastily raised his hand to his head and drew down his cap so that the suspicious spot was covered.
”It isn't worth mentioning. It was only in sport, that we might not get entirely out of practice. Besides Bartel began; he gave me one blow, but only one, and I dealt him six in return. He won't come near me again very soon.”
”George, you are incorrigible!” said the priest, gravely, but this time the sinner was to escape the punishment he deserved. Just at that moment Gerald appeared on his way from the citadel, and, with much surprise and pleasure, greeted Father Leonhard, of whose arrival he had also been ignorant.
Again messages and questions about home were exchanged, and when Father Leonhard said that he was going to call on the commandant, the young officer offered to accompany him. But he turned back to ask the question:
”Are the mules ordered, George?”
”Yes, Herr Lieutenant, they'll be at the colonel's house in half an hour.”
”Very well, I think the ladies will be ready by that time. Let me know when the animals are there.”
He walked on, conversing with the priest, and George followed, greatly delighted that a reverend ecclesiastic was going with the regiment into the ”wilderness,” as he persisted in calling Krivoscia.
Spite of the early hour the inmates of the colonel's household were awake and ready for the excursion, which had been planned the day before, except Edith, who, at the last moment, had taken a dislike to the expedition. She thought the weather too uncertain, the road too long, the ride too fatiguing--she wanted to stay at home, and her father, instead of opposing this capriciousness by a word of authority, was trying remonstrances.
”Why, child, do listen to reason,” he said. ”What will Gerald think if you stay at home? How can he help believing that his society has no attraction for you?”
”Perhaps it has as much as mine for him,” was the defiant retort.
”Well, then, we shall be quits.”
”You had a little dispute yesterday. I saw it by your faces when I entered the room, and now the poor fellow is to suffer for it. Take care, Edith, don't strain the cord too tight, he is not over-yielding.”
”Papa, you love me, don't you?” The young girl's voice had an unusually bitter tone. ”You would even sacrifice a favorite plan for my sake, you would never force me into a marriage which----”
”For heaven's sake, what does this mean?” cried the colonel, now really alarmed. ”What has occurred between you?”
Instead of answering, Edith began to weep so bitterly that her father became seriously troubled.
”But, my child, what is your objection to Gerald? Is he not an attentive, gallant lover? Doesn't he gratify all your wishes? I don't understand you.”
”Oh! yes, he's attentive and gallant, and--so icy, that I sometimes feel as if a cold wind was blowing upon me. Danira was right when, looking at his picture, she told me that he could not love and would never learn. I have never yet heard one warm, tender word from his lips, but, on the contrary, he plays the tutor on every occasion, and, if I don't submit patiently, shrugs his shoulders and smiles compa.s.sionately, as we smile at a child--I'll bear it no longer.”
The colonel took the excited girl's hand and drew her toward him.
”Edith, you know how much Gerald's mother and I desire this marriage, but you also know that I will never force you into it. Be frank, does no voice in your heart plead for your old playfellow?”
A traitorous blush crimsoned Edith's face and, nestling in her father's arms, she laid her head on his breast.
”He doesn't love me!” she sobbed. ”He thinks of nothing but the campaign. He is impatient to get away, fairly longs to go, the sooner the better; he doesn't care in the least that I am to remain behind.”
”You are mistaken,” replied Colonel Arlow gravely, but with perfect sincerity. ”Gerald might be a little less of a soldier and more of a lover, I admit, but you ought not to doubt his affection. Pa.s.sionate impetuosity is not one of his traits of character, but the better I know his character, the more security it affords for your future happiness. Have you ever really tried to win him? I do not think so.”
Edith raised her head--she was evidently very willing to be persuaded--and asked in a low tone: