Transcriber's Note:
1. Page scan source: http://books.google.com/books?id=eN0BAAAAQAAJ&pg
2. Compare this to the American edition: "Vineta, The Phantom City," by E. Werner and translated by Frances A. Shaw.

UNDER A CHARM.

UNDER A CHARM.

A Novel.

FROM THE GERMAN OF E. WERNER,
By CHRISTINA TYRRELL.

IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.

LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON,
NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1877.

(All rights reserved.)

PART THE SECOND.

(Continued.)

UNDER A CHARM.

CHAPTER III.

At an early hour on the following morning the Castle guests, most of whom had spent the night beneath its roof, took their departure; only Count Morynski and his daughter remained at Wilicza. As the young proprietor's arrival had surprised them there, courtesy required that they should address to him some words of greeting before leaving his house; the Count, however, considered that, in the utter absence of all intimacy between himself and his nephew, he would be acting with propriety in leaving the latter exclusively to his mother for the first few hours succeeding their meeting, and Wanda was even less eager to assert the claims of relationship.

The Princess was alone with her two sons. She sat in her accustomed place in the green drawing-room, with Waldemar opposite her, and Leo standing by his brother's chair--to all appearances a peaceful, united family group.

"No, Waldemar, I really cannot forgive you for this," said the lady, in reproachful tones. "To stop at the steward's! As though your castle were not at your command at any instant of the day! as though it would not have been a pleasure to me to introduce you to my guests! I am almost tempted to look on what you term a mark of consideration for me as something quite the contrary. I really cannot let your fear of causing a disturbance serve you as a pretext."

"Well, let my disinclination to come into a crowd of strangers the moment I arrived serve me as such, then," replied Waldemar. "I really was not in the humour for it."

"Have you still the old antipathy to everything like society? In that case we shall have to narrow our connections here at Wilicza."

"Not on my account, I hope. I beg of you not to think of me in the matter--only you must excuse me if I do not put in a very frequent appearance in your salon. I have, it is true, learned to submit to the exigencies of society when there is no avoiding them, but they are still troublesome to me."

The Princess smiled. This tendency, of which she had so long been aware, accorded exactly with her wishes. Indeed, everything in this first meeting went to show that she had not erred in her judgment of Waldemar, that his nature had remained fundamentally the same. There was no marked change even in his personal appearance. His great height was more noticeable now than formerly, because he carried himself more erect, towering far above his tall and slender brother; and the unripeness, the undeveloped lines of youth had given place to a perfect manliness of form and bearing which, however, failed to make him more genial or interesting than of yore. Those plain irregular features could never be attractive, although the passion and vehemence, which in the old days so often disfigured them, had yielded to an expression of cold gravity. One decided advantage Waldemar possessed; his light hair, 'the enormous yellow mane,' as Wanda used satirically to call it, had been cultivated and restrained in its luxuriant wild abundance. Its thick masses were brushed back close to his head, leaving the forehead and temples free; and a fine powerful brow it indisputably was, arched over the sombre eyes, the one beauty Nature had vouchsafed to the young man. The rough abruptness of his manner had been in a great measure toned down. It was evident that he was now familiar with the usages of society, and able to comply with them without visible constraint; but there the list of his acquisitions during these years of University life and of travel ended. An ornament to a drawing-room Waldemar Nordeck would never be. There was a stand-off, repellant air about him, a lack of affability; his whole being bore too distinctly the stamp of a close and sombre reserve for any one ever to feel instinctively drawn to him.

The contrast between the brothers was even more striking than in former days. Leo, too, had left far behind him the boy of seventeen; but if, even at that early age, his appearance had extracted from old Witold the admission that his enemy's son was 'a picture of a boy,' he now displayed all the beauty of his people--a beauty which, where it exists at all, frequently attains to a rare perfection. Somewhat shorter, but far more slender than Waldemar, he possessed in fullest measure all those advantages which his elder brother lacked: the nobility of feature, bringing into strongest relief his speaking likeness to his mother; the splendid dark eyes, which flashed fire with every passing emotion; the dark wavy hair, lying in soft and shining curls about his brow. There was a touch of the romantic about the young Prince's whole person, happily married to the distinction and refinement of a modern gentleman. Leo Baratowski was a perfect type of beauty and of chivalry.

"So you have actually brought your old tutor with you?" said he, gaily. "Well, I wonder at your taste, Waldemar. I was glad when my worthy preceptor had nothing more to do with me, and should never have dreamed of taking him as my companion to the University, still less as my fellow-traveller."

The frigid constraint which always characterised young Nordeck's manner when conversing with his mother, relaxed to a great extent now, as he turned to the last speaker.

"You must not look on Dr. Fabian merely in the light of a tutor, Leo. He has long ago given up teaching, and now devotes himself solely to his historical studies. It was only his want of means which made him take to his old profession. He has always been a scholar at heart; but has never known how to turn his learning to practical account, so there was nothing left him but to turn 'bear-leader.'"

"His vocation was evident enough. He had all the pedantry and dry-as-dust manner of a savant," said the Princess.

"Were you not satisfied with his reports?" asked Waldemar, coolly.

"With what reports?"

"Those the Doctor used to send you when I first went to the University," returned Waldemar. "He was in some doubt as to what you really wanted to know, so I advised him to keep you thoroughly informed on the subject of my studies. He was explicit enough, I think."

The Princess was startled. "You seem to be acquainted with all the details of our correspondence, and even to have--superintended it to some degree."

"Dr. Fabian has no secrets from me, and I thought it natural you would like to hear about my studies," replied Waldemar, so equably that a sudden suspicion of his having possibly seen through certain plans of hers in former days vanished again from his mother's mind. She fancied she had detected irony in his first remarks, but a glance at that imperturbable face reassured her. Impossible! Neither he nor his whilom tutor had the wit to penetrate so deeply below the surface.

"Leo is delighted at the idea of acting as your guide in your shooting expeditions in and about Wilicza," said she, changing the subject. "I must make up my mind to see very little of either of you for the next few weeks."

Waldemar looked up at his brother, who was still leaning against his chair.

"I am only afraid, Leo, that your idea of sport will prove to be very different to mine. Even as a sportsman, you will be anxious to preserve a gentlemanly appearance, so as to be ready in case of need to go straight from the woods into a drawing-room, whereas, with me, you would have to go through the bushes, and often enough through the bogs and fens, after the game. Who knows how that would suit you!"

The young Prince laughed. "I think you will find that sport here in the woods of Poland is rather a more serious thing than on your peaceful old hunting-grounds at Altenhof. You will soon be able to judge whether one finds one's self always in such irreproachable feather after, say, a chance encounter with the wolves. I have had many an adventure, and as Wanda is also passionately fond of hunting ... You know she is here, at Wilicza?"

The question came suddenly, unexpectedly; it was put with a sort of eager anxiety. Waldemar's tone, on the other hand, was calm and tranquil as he replied--

"Countess Morynska? Yes. I heard so."

"Countess Morynska!" repeated the Princess, reproachfully. "She is your cousin, and will soon stand to you in a closer relationship. Leo, you will tell your brother that which is still a secret as regards the rest of the world?"

"Certainly," answered the young Prince, quickly; "you must be told, of course, Waldemar, that--that Wanda is engaged to me."

His eyes scanned his brother's face closely as he said the last words, and for one second the Princess's keen look rested on it also; but not the slightest trace of agitation was to be seen there. Waldemar's features remained absolutely immovable. His manner, too, was unruffled; he did not even alter his easy, half-negligent attitude.

"Engaged to you? Really?"

"It does not appear to surprise you," said Leo, rather disconcerted at this equanimity.

"No," replied Waldemar, coldly. "I know you were always attached to your cousin, and can imagine that neither my mother nor Count Morynski would place obstacles in the way. I wish you all happiness, Leo."

The young Prince took the offered hand with real and hearty warmth. It had been rather painful to him to touch upon this topic. He felt he had done his brother a wrong, that he and Wanda had trifled with his feelings most thoughtlessly and unkindly; and the calm with which Waldemar received the news afforded him considerable relief. The Princess, who herself attached no importance to these bygone matters, but perceived that the subject should not be treated at any length, hastened to introduce another.

"You will see Wanda and her father no later than to-day," said she, carelessly. "We have, of course, a good deal of communication with Rakowicz. But, in the first place, what do you think of your Wilicza? You did not keep your word with us. When we were at C---- you promised to pay us a visit in the following spring, and full four years have elapsed before you have really made up your mind to come."

"I have always meant to perform my promise, and never succeeded in doing it."

He got up and walked to the great centre window. "But you are right, Wilicza has grown pretty nearly strange to me. I must go over the whole place in the course of the next few days, so as to get to feel at home here."

The Princess grew attentive. "The whole place? I do not think you will find much to interest you, except the forests, which will have a special charm for so ardent a sportsman as yourself. With regard to Wilicza itself, the steward will give you all the information you require. He has probably told you that he intends giving up his post?" The question was put incidentally; there was no sign of the suspense with which the answer to it was awaited.

"Yes," said Waldemar, looking through the window absently. "He is going in the spring."

"I am sorry for it for your sake, all the more that I am the indirect cause of your losing a clever and capable employé. Frank will, in many respects, be hard to replace. His management, for instance, is generally considered quite a model for imitation. Unfortunately, his activity requires the permanent absenteeism of his principal, for he can suffer no other authority where he is. His people complain bitterly of his want of consideration, and I myself have had proofs of it. I was forced, at last, seriously to remind him that neither the Castle nor the Princess Baratowska was under his sway, and it was one of these scenes which brought about his resignation. Now all depends upon which side you take, Waldemar. I think the steward would not be disinclined to stay on, if you were to accord him permission to play the master as heretofore. I shall, of course, abide by your decision."

Young Nordeck waived the subject. "I only arrived yesterday evening, and cannot possibly understand all the bearings of the case as yet," he replied, with a significant gesture. "If Frank wishes to go, I shall not keep him here; and if differences between himself and the Castle are the cause of his departure, you do not imagine, I hope, that I shall put my mother in a false position by taking part against her and siding with the steward."

The Princess breathed freely. She had not been without uneasiness with regard to Frank. Her son was only to have entered into relations with him when he had learned to see with her eyes, and had become thoroughly prejudiced against his agent. With the latter's straightforward plain-speaking, and the young proprietor's violent temper, which could not brook the slightest contradiction, a collision would then have been inevitable; but now this unlooked-for and most unbecoming visit to the manor-farm had marred the whole plan. Waldemar's manner conveyed, however, that, during the short time he had been there, he had entered into no discussion. He appeared to attach little importance to the steward's going or staying, and possessed, as it seemed, sufficient sense of decorum to range himself at the outset, and without any preliminary examination, on his mother's side.

"I knew I could count upon you," she declared, well satisfied with this first meeting. Everything was fitting in to meet her wishes. "But we have fallen at once on this disagreeable business topic, as if we had nothing better to occupy us. I wished ... Oh, you are there, Bronislaus!" She turned to her brother, who at this moment entered the room with his daughter on his arm.

At the last words Waldemar had also turned. For an instant he seemed confounded, so strange to him was the tall proud figure now standing before him. He had only known the maiden of sixteen, with her fresh, youthful graces; the present vision may well have appeared altogether new to him. 'She gives promise of beauty,' the Princess Baratowska had said of her niece; but that lady herself could hardly have foreseen how fully her prophecy would be justified. Beauty, in this case, did not, it is true, consist in the regularity of outline, for Wanda's features were not regular. The Slavonic type was too distinctly portrayed in them, and they differed considerably from the Greek or Roman ideal; but, nevertheless, there was an irresistible charm in the still somewhat pale face which none could arm himself against. Her raven hair, dressed very simply in opposition to the reigning fashion, was by this unstudied art displayed in all its rich abundance; but the young Countess's mightiest seduction lay in her dewy dark eyes, which gazed out, clear and full, from under the long eyelashes. There was more in them now than childish petulance and childish gaiety. Whether those deep dark eyes were veiled in dreamy stillness, or beaming radiant with passionate ardour, enigmatic and dangerous were they ever. One glance at them would show how they could fascinate and hold captive without hope of rescue, and the Countess Morynska had too often tested their power not to be thoroughly conscious of its extent.

"You have taken all Wilicza by surprise, Waldemar," said the Count, "and you come home to find guests staying in your house. We were to have left early this morning, but on hearing of your arrival we could not deny ourselves the pleasure of seeing you before starting."

"That we certainly could not, Cousin Waldemar." Wanda confirmed her father's words, holding out her hand to the new-comer as she spoke, with an enchanting smile and the most perfect ease of manner.

Waldemar bowed to his beautiful cousin with measured formality. He seemed not to notice the proffered hand, or to have heard the gracious, familiar little address, for without a syllable of reply he turned to Morynski.

"I hope I am not driving you away, Count. As, for the time being, I am only my mother's guest, we are both in similar case."

The Count seemed agreeably impressed by this politeness, of which he had not thought his nephew capable. He answered pleasantly, while Wanda stood by mute, with lips tightly pressed together. She had proposed to herself to meet her young relation with the unembarrassed demeanour of a woman of the world, generously to spare him a painful reminiscence by herself altogether ignoring it; and now she must endure to see her ease of manner unremarked, her generosity repelled. That glance of icy indifference showed her that Waldemar, though he had forgotten the old attachment, had not forgiven the old offence, for which he was now taking his revenge.

The conversation soon grew general, the Princess and Leo now joining in it. Subject matter was not wanting. They spoke of Waldemar's travels, of his unexpected advent, of Wilicza and the neighbourhood; but animated as the talk might be, it never became intimate or familiar. The language was that used to a stranger who chanced to be on a footing of relationship. This offshoot of the Nordecks had nothing really in common with the Morynski and Baratowski circle, and the fact being felt on all sides, the whole tone of the interview was involuntarily affected by it. The Count could not prevail on himself to adopt towards his sister's elder son the familiar form of address which came as a matter of course when speaking to the younger; and Waldemar, taking his cue therefrom, continued to call his uncle "Count." He showed himself now much as he had been of old, silent and reserved, but no longer awkward.

The season being autumn, hunting was naturally the topic which came uppermost. It was indeed the favourite pastime of all the country round, even the ladies entering into it with zest. The two now present took a lively part in the discussion. Leo at length mentioned the great Nordeck collection of arms, and especially vaunted some rifles which formed part of it. Count Morynski differed from his nephew, declaring that the pieces, though certainly of great value, were chiefly to be viewed in the light of curiosities, while Waldemar unhesitatingly sided with his brother. The gentlemen waxed hot in the defence of their theories, and resolved to decide the question at issue by an adjournment to the armoury and a provisional trial of the guns. They went off immediately to put the matter to the test.

"Still the old Waldemar!" said the Princess, looking after them. "He warms to nothing but to these sporting details. All else is indifferent to him. Do you think him altered, Wanda?"

"Yes," replied the young Countess, laconically. "He has grown strangely quiet."

"Yes, thank Heaven, he seems in some measure to have laid aside his abrupt, unmannerly ways, while he is in the drawing-room, at least. One can introduce him now without exposing one's self to ridicule, and without having reason to dread an éclat in the midst of the most ordinary conversation. Those who are brought into close contact with him will probably still have much to endure. The first blunder made by a groom with regard to the dogs or horses will bring out the old Berserker in him, with all his old fierceness and violence."

Wanda made no reply to this remark. She had thrown herself into an armchair, and was playing with its silken tassels.

"His coming in that way was a true Nordeck proceeding," went on the Princess, in a tone of annoyance. "It was bad enough that he should dismiss the post-chaise at the last station, and continue the journey on foot like any adventurer, but that would naturally not suffice Waldemar. When he saw the Castle lighted up, and heard it was a reception night here, he turned into the steward's in all haste, for fear he should be obliged to show himself in company. Later in the evening he came up to the Castle with the Doctor, made himself known to Pawlick, and had himself shown to his rooms, giving most strenuous orders that I was not to be disturbed. I, of course, heard of his arrival before five minutes were over. My servants are better trained than he supposes. As he had given such strict injunctions on the subject, I had no choice, however, but to ignore his presence, and allow myself to be taken by surprise this morning."

"A surprise which constrained us to remain on here," put in Wanda, impatiently. "I hope papa may come back soon, that we may start."

"Not at once? You will at least stay to dinner."

"No, dear aunt, I shall beg papa to have the horses put to immediately. Do you think it can be agreeable to me to sit here and be ignored by Herr Waldemar Nordeck, as he has thought fit to ignore me for the last half-hour? He avoided with admirable consistency either answering or addressing a word to me."

The Princess smiled. "Well, well, you can afford to grant him that small vengeance on your first meeting. You played with him rather unmercifully, you know, and can hardly wonder if he shows a little rancour now and then. That will pass away when you see more of each other. What do you think of his appearance?"

"I think it is just as disagreeable as ever," declared the young Countess; "more so, for then the impression it created was an involuntary one, and now I almost fancy he wishes to repel. Nevertheless, I don't know why--unless it be that his brow is so clear and open--but he is no longer at a disadvantage beside Leo."

The Princess was silent. The same remark had been borne in on her mind as the two stood together. Incontestable as was the younger brother's beauty, the elder, though unable to make the smallest pretension to good looks, was no longer in danger of being thrust into the background. Should his person appear to others, as to Countess Morynska, disagreeable, nay, repulsive, there was yet a certain something in his bearing and manner which would maintain him in his proper place. His mother herself was forced to admit as much.

"These giants always have one great advantage," said she; "they are imposing at first sight, but that is all. You must never look for mind or strength of character in them."

"Never?" said Wanda, with a peculiar expression. "Are you quite sure?"

The Princess seemed to think the question a strange and superfluous one; she looked at her niece in astonishment.

"We both know what ends Wilicza has now to serve," the latter continued, with suppressed vehemence, "and you must acknowledge, dear aunt, that it would be very inconvenient and dangerous should it suddenly occur to your son to show any 'mind.' Be prudent. That quiet manner and, above all, that brow of his are not to my liking."

"My dear," said the elder lady, with calm superiority, "will you not allow me to be the judge of my son's character; or do you imagine that, at twenty years of age, you possess greater powers of discernment than any I am endowed with? Waldemar is a Nordeck--that is saying everything."

"I know you have always summed up your judgment of him in those words. He may be the exact image of his father in every other feature; but that forehead, with its sharply defined blue vein, he has from you. Does it seem to you a thing impossible that he may one day show himself his mother's son?"

"Utterly impossible," the Princess declared in a harsh tone, as though the notion were really insulting to her. "All of myself I have had power to transmit, Leo alone has inherited. Do not be foolish, Wanda. You are irritated at Waldemar's behaviour to yourself, and I admit it was not very flattering; but you really must take his susceptibility into some account. How you manage to discover strength of character in this tenacious clinging to an old grudge, I cannot understand--to me it proves just the contrary. Any one else would have felt grateful to you for endeavouring to put aside a painful half-forgotten souvenir, and would have met you with an ease of manner equal to your own. As his brother's betrothed ..."

"Does Waldemar know already?" the young Countess interrupted.

"Yes, Leo told him himself."

"And how did he take the news?"

"With the most perfect indifference, although I never gave him a hint of it in my letters. That is precisely it. He soon got over his old romantic feeling for you--we have proof of that--but he clings to the fancied offence with all the obstinacy of his boyhood. Do you wish me to take that as the mark of a strong mind?"

Wanda rose in unmistakable anger. "Certainly not; but I feel no inclination to expose myself further to his obstinacy, and you will therefore excuse us, dear aunt, if we leave Wilicza at once. Nothing would induce me to remain, and papa will hardly let me set out alone. We shall start within the hour."

The Princess protested in vain. Once again she had experience of the fact that her niece owned a will as resolute as her own, and that, where his daughter was concerned, 'there were no limits to Count Morynski's weakness.' In spite of his sister's wishes repeatedly expressed, in spite of Leo's most evident vexation, the plan decided on by Wanda was carried out, and half an hour later the carriage which was to convey her and her father to Rakowicz drove up to the door.

CHAPTER IV.

Some weeks had passed by, and the young proprietor's arrival had wrought no change worth mentioning at Wilicza. His presence was hardly noticed, for, as the Princess had rightly supposed, he was seldom at the Castle, but spent his days roaming about the forests and surrounding neighbourhood. The old passion for sport seemed to have taken possession of him again, and to throw everything else into the shade. He did not even appear regularly at meal times. His wanderings generally led him so far afield that he was forced to turn into some ranger's house, or into some farm for refreshment. This was of very frequent occurrence. On such occasions he would return late and tired out, and would spend his evenings chiefly in his own rooms, in Dr. Fabian's company, only appearing when obliged so to do in his mother's drawing-room.

After the first few days Leo had given up going with his brother, for it turned out, indeed, that the two differed very widely in their ideas on the subject of sport. The young Prince was in this, as in all else, rash, fiery, but not enduring. He shot all that came within reach of his barrel, scouted no obstacle when in pursuit, and found a decided pleasure in anything which added a spice of danger to the work in hand. Waldemar, on the other hand, followed with tenacious, indefatigable perseverance, the whole day through, if necessary, the game he had selected at the outset, giving no thought to rest or recruitment, and imposing on himself fatigue and hardships which only his iron frame could have withstood. Leo soon began to find it wearisome both to body and mind, and unpleasant to the last degree; so that, on making the discovery that his brother greatly preferred to be alone, he was very glad to leave him to his own society.

Thus, though the three daily saw and spoke to each other, it could hardly be said that they lived a life in common. Waldemar's stern, almost repellant manner had in no way changed, and his reserve grew rather than diminished in this closer intercourse. After weeks passed under the same roof, neither the Princess nor Leo had advanced a step nearer intimacy with him than on the day of his arrival; but such intimacy was not needful. They were glad that the young man's conduct tallied so completely with the suppositions they had formed. As regarded social relations, he even showed a docility they had not expected. For instance, he did not refuse to make a return visit to Rakowicz, and the communications between the two castles were more frequent than ever. Count Morynski and his daughter often came over to Wilicza, though they but seldom found the master of the house at home. The only thing which occasionally caused the Princess some annoyance was the attitude preserved towards each other by her elder son and Wanda. This remained absolutely unchanged; it was cold, constrained, hostile even. The mother had tried several times to step in and mediate, but always unsuccessfully. At last she gave up the idea of curing two 'stubborn young heads' of their obstinacy. The whole thing was unimportant, except as it might give pretext for a rupture. Matters, however, were not carried to such lengths. Waldemar was always as gracious to the Count as his ungracious nature would permit; and, for the rest, he did his relatives the pleasure, of withdrawing from their society as much as possible, so leaving them to their own devices.

All Wilicza was astir, it being an occasion of one of those great hunting festivities which were wont to gather the whole neighbourhood together at the Castle. As usual, every invitation issued had been accepted, and the company, which consisted exclusively of the Polish nobility from the surrounding chateaux, was more numerous than ever. Great was the Princess's satisfaction that she had not been forced to modify her arrangements out of regard to her son. She would naturally have so far sacrificed herself as to regulate the invitations according to his wishes, but no such question was ever mooted. Waldemar seemed to take it as a thing of course that his mother's circle of acquaintance should now be his; and, seeing the very small part he took in such social relations, the matter may well have appeared immaterial to him. He himself held intercourse with no one in the neighbourhood; he even avoided those connections which the Princess had thought of not without apprehension, and made friends neither among the higher class of officials at L----, nor the officers of that garrison, though he had met most of the latter in other places. In these circles young Nordeck was looked on as belonging altogether to the Baratowski faction, and as being completely under the influence of his mother, who would, it was declared, permit no foreign element so much as to approach him.

The hunting party was unusually late in setting out. A solid wall of thick fog, drawn up round the house and closing in the view a few paces off, had in the morning threatened to interfere with the whole expedition. A little before noon, however, it cleared sufficiently for the programme to be put into execution, with this single exception that the breakfast was taken at the Castle, instead of in the forest.

Part of the guests were already making ready to start. The gentlemen and younger ladies who were to join in the hunt, were taking leave of the Princess, as she stood with Leo in the centre of the great drawing-room. Any one unacquainted with the real circumstances must have supposed the young Prince to be the master of Wilicza, for he and his mother formed the central point to which all converged. They accepted all the polite speeches, claimed all the attentions and interest of the company, and did the honours with a distinction and dignity of bearing which left nothing to be desired; while Waldemar stood at the window, apart and almost overlooked, in conversation with Dr. Fabian, who, as a matter of course, was to remain behind at the Castle, but who had come down to join the breakfast party.

This demeanour on the part of the head of the house struck no one as strange, he having always voluntarily chosen this subordinate rôle. He seemed persistently to consider himself as his mother's guest who had nothing to do with the entertainment of visitors, and declined all participation in it as troublesome and disagreeable to him. So the custom had gradually grown up of paying no special regard to one who made so little claim to consideration. Gracious words were spoken to him on coming and going. When he condescended to take part in the conversation, he was listened to with some show of attention, and the sacrifice was even made of speaking German in his presence, great and general as was the objection felt to that language; but, in spite of this, he was only nominally master in his own home, and it was known that his passivity in this capacity was a thing of great price. All vain attempts to break through the obstinate reserve in which he delighted to enwrap himself had long been abandoned; and, on the whole, the guests assembled beneath his roof took no more notice of him than he of them.

"Pray do not ride so wildly again, Leo," remonstrated the Princess, as she parted from her younger son with an embrace. "You and Wanda seem to vie with one another in attempting the most hazardous feats. I seriously beg of you to be prudent on this occasion;" and, turning to her elder son, who now came up to her, she held out her hand with cool affability. "Goodbye, Waldemar; you must be quite in your element to-day."

"That I certainly am not," was the somewhat ill-humoured answer. "These great conventional gala meets, when the woods are full of traqueurs and huntsmen, and the game is driven right before your barrel for you to shoot without any trouble, are decidedly not to my taste."

"Waldemar is never happy but when he is alone with his beloved rifle," said Leo, laughing. "I have a strong suspicion that you dragged me through the thickest bushes and over the deepest bogs, and exposed me to hunger and thirst, with the settled purpose of getting rid of me as soon as possible. I am not exactly a novice in such matters, but after the first three days I had enough of the horrible toil you call pleasure."

"I told you beforehand that our views on the subject would differ," said Waldemar, coolly, as the two left the drawing-room together and went down the steps.

A number of the visitors had already assembled below on the great lawn before the Castle, and among them were Count Morynski and his daughter. The gentlemen were with one voice admiring Nordeck's beautiful horse, which he had but lately sent for and which had only arrived the day before. They acknowledged that, in this respect at least, the master of Wilicza had shown consummate taste.

"A splendid creature!" said the Count, patting the animal's slender neck, a caress received by its object with all due patience. "Waldemar, is this really the wild Norman you used to ride at C----? Pawlick was in great anguish of mind each time he had to hold his bridle, for the beast was dangerous then to all who went near him. He seems to have grown remarkably gentle."

Waldemar, who had just come out of the house with his brother, drew near the group.

"Norman was very young and new to the saddle in those days," said he. "He has learned to behave himself since then, just as I have learned to give up rough riding. But as to the gentleness of the animal, ask Leo what he thinks of it. He found out what it was worth when he tried to mount him yesterday."

"A devil of a horse!" cried Leo, in a tone of irritation. "I think you have trained him to go on like a mad creature directly any one but yourself puts his foot in the stirrup; but I will get the better of him yet."

"You had better let it alone. Norman obeys me, and no one but me. You will never get control over him. You might have found that out yesterday, I should have thought."

A dark flush spread over the young Prince's face. He had caught a look of Wanda's, imperiously calling on him to contradict the assertion. He did not comply exactly; but the look stung him and added fuel to his anger, as he replied with some heat--

"If it gives you any pleasure to break in your horse in such a manner that no one but yourself can mount him, that is your business. I have certainly not taught my Vaillant any such high art"--he pointed to the beautiful sorrel his groom was holding for him----"nevertheless, you would not fare much better with him than I with your Norman. You have never been willing to make the attempt. Will you try him to-day?"

"No," replied Waldemar, quietly. "Your horse is sometimes very refractory. You allow him to play all sorts of tricks, and to show caprices which I could not stand. I should be under the necessity of ill-using him, and should be sorry to employ violence to your favourite. Your heart is set on him, I know."

"Well, there would be no harm in trying, Herr Nordeck," put in Wanda--she had dropped the familiar "Cousin Waldemar" once for all after their first meeting. "I really think you ride nearly as well as Leo."

Waldemar moved not a muscle at this attack. He remained perfectly composed.

"You are very kind to credit me with any skill in horsemanship, Countess Morynska," he replied.

"Oh, I meant no offence," declared Wanda, in a tone which was still more damaging than her previous word 'nearly.' "I am persuaded that the Germans are excellent equestrians; but they cannot, of course, compare with our gentlemen in the art of riding."

Nordeck turned to his brother without making any reply. "Will you leave your Vaillant to me for to-day, Leo? At all risks?"

"At all risks," cried Leo, with flashing eyes.

"Do not attempt it, Waldemar," interposed the Count, who appeared not to approve of the turn the matter had taken. "You have judged quite correctly. The horse is refractory, and quite unaccountable in his caprices; besides which, Leo has accustomed him to all sorts of rash adventures and mad tricks, so that no strange rider, were he the most skilful in the world, could be a match for him. He will throw you, without a shadow of doubt."

"Well, Herr Nordeck may put it to the test, at least," suggested Wanda, "supposing he cares to incur the danger."

"Do not be uneasy," said Waldemar to the Count, who darted a displeased glance at his daughter. "I will ride the horse. You see how eager Countess Morynska is to--see me thrown. Come, Leo."

"Wanda, I must beg you to desist," whispered Morynski to his daughter. "A real feud is growing up between you and Waldemar. I must say you neglect no opportunity of irritating him."

The young Countess switched her whip sharply against her velvet habit. "You are wrong, papa. Irritate? This Nordeck never allows himself to be irritated, certainly not by me!"

"Well, why do you always return to the charge, then?"

Wanda made no answer; but her father had spoken truly. She could let pass no opportunity of exasperating the man who at one time had blazed up with passionate susceptibility at a thoughtless word, and who now met her every attack with the same imperturbable calm.

Meanwhile the attention of the others had been attracted to what was going on. They knew Nordeck to be a skilful, if a prudent rider; but it appeared to them a thing of course that he could not in this respect compare with a Baratowski, and, less considerate than Count Morynski, they heartily enjoyed the prospect of the 'foreigner's' defeat. The two brothers were standing by the sorrel now. The slender, fiery animal struck the ground impatiently with its hoofs, and gave the groom at his head trouble enough to hold him. Leo took the bridle from the man's hands, and held the horse himself while his brother mounted, intense satisfaction beaming in his eyes as he did so--he knew his Vaillant. Then he let him go, and stepped back.

The sorrel had hardly felt the strange hand on his reins when he began to give proof of his peculiar temper. He reared, plunged, and made the most violent efforts to shake off his rider; but the latter sat as though glued to the saddle, and opposed so quiet but energetic a resistance to the animal's impetuous violence that at last it succumbed to its fate, and endured him.

But its docility went no further, for when Waldemar would have urged it forward it resolutely refused to obey. Nothing could induce it to stir from the spot. It spent itself in all manner of tricks and caprices; but no skilful management, no show of energy on the part of its rider, availed to make it advance a step. Gradually, however, it worked itself into a state of excitement which was really becoming serious. So far, Waldemar had remained tolerably quiet, but now his brow began to flush. His patience was at an end. He raised his whip, and struck the rebellious horse a merciless, well-directed blow.

This unwonted treatment drove the capricious, spoilt creature distracted. It gave one bound, scattering right and left the gentlemen standing round, and then shot like an arrow across the lawn into the great avenue which led to the Castle. There the ride degenerated into a wild struggle between horse and rider. The former, frenzied with rage, fairly battled with its adversary, and visibly tried all the means in its power to unseat him. Though Waldemar kept his seat in the saddle, it was evident that he did so at extreme risk to his life.

"Leo, put a stop to this," said Morynski to his nephew, uneasily. "Vaillant will soon calm down if he hears your voice. Persuade your brother to dismount, or we shall have an accident."

Leo stood by with folded arms, watching the struggle; but he made no attempt to interfere. "I did not hide from Waldemar that the horse is a dangerous one for a stranger to mount," he replied, coldly. "If he purposely goads it into a fury, he must take the consequences. He knows well enough that Vaillant will not stand the whip."

At this moment Waldemar came back. He had retained sufficient control over the reins to force the animal into a given direction, for instead of careering over the lawn they swept round it in a wide circle. Beyond this, all guidance was out of the question. The sorrel still violently resisted the hand which held it in an iron grasp, and tried by unexpected lightning-like darts and plunges to throw its rider; but Nordeck's face showed that the old temper was rising within him. Scarlet to the roots of his hair, with eyes which seemed to emit sparks, and teeth tightly set, he used his whip and spurs in so merciless a manner that Leo grew wild with exasperation. He had looked on composedly at his brother's danger, but this punishment of his favourite was more than he could bear.

"Waldemar, have done," he cried, angrily. "You will ruin the horse for me. We have all seen now that Vaillant will carry you. Let him be."

"I shall teach him obedience first." Waldemar's voice vibrated with passion and excitement. He was past thinking of others now, and Leo's interference had no other effect than to bring down on the horse still more unsparing treatment, as a second time they made the tour of the lawn. At the third round the animal was vanquished. It no longer strove against its rider's will, but moderated into the prescribed pace, and at the first hint from the reins came to a halt before the Castle, completely subdued, it is true, but ready to sink with exhaustion.

Nordeck dismounted. The gentlemen gathered round him, and there was no lack of compliments on his admirable horsemanship, though the spirits of the company were evidently damped. Leo alone said nothing. He stood silent, stroking the trembling, sweating horse, on whose shining brown coat traces of blood were to be seen--so terribly had Waldemar's spurs ploughed his sides.

"That was a trial of strength I never saw equalled," said Count Morynski; but his words were forced. "Vaillant will not so easily forget the day he carried you."

Waldemar had already got the better of his passion. The flush on his brow and the full swollen blue vein on the temple alone bore witness to his inward excitement, as he answered--

"I had to try and deserve Countess Morynska's flattering opinion that I could ride nearly as well as my brother."

Wanda stood by Leo's side, looking as though she had personally suffered a defeat which she was ready to avenge at the peril of her life, so threatening was the blaze of those deep dark eyes.

"I am sorry that my heedless words should have brought down such harsh usage on Vaillant. The noble creature is certainly not accustomed to such treatment."

"Nor I to such resistance," replied Waldemar, sharply. "It is not my fault if Vaillant would not yield to whip and spur. Yield he must, sooner or later."

Leo put an end to the conversation by ordering his groom, in a loud demonstrative manner, to lead the sorrel, which was 'ready to drop,' back to the stables, and there to take all possible care of him, and at once to saddle another horse and bring it round. Count Morynski, fearing an outbreak, went up to his nephew and drew him aside.

"Control yourself, Leo," he said, in a low urgent tone. "Do not appear before all these people with that frowning brow. Do you want to seek a quarrel with your brother?"

"What if I do?" muttered the young Prince. "Has not he exposed me to the ridicule of all the hunt by that ill-timed story of his about Norman? Has not he almost ridden my Vaillant to death? And all for the sake of a miserable boast!"

"Boast? Think what you are saying. It was you who proposed to him to try the horse. He refused at first."

"He wanted to show me and all of us that he is master when a mere display of coarse physical strength is in question. As though any one ever disputed him that! It is the only thing he is capable of! But I tell you, uncle, if he challenges me in this way again, my patience will give way. It would if he were ten times lord of Wilicza."

"No imprudence!" said the Count. "You and Wanda are unfortunately accustomed to subordinate everything to your own personal impressions. I can never obtain from her the smallest concession where this Waldemar is concerned."

"Wanda, at least, can show her dislike openly," grumbled Leo, "whereas I. There he is standing beside his Norman; together they look the very picture of composure and tranquillity, but let any one try to go near either of them!"

The fresh horse was now brought round, and in the general departure which ensued any little unpleasantness caused by the late incident was dissipated. It was, however, fortunate that the proceedings of the day kept the brothers apart, that they were at no time long in each other's company, else, in the exasperated state of Leo's mind, a rupture would have become inevitable. When at length the chase was reached, the love of sport awoke, and, for some hours at least, drove all else into the background.

Waldemar was wrong in his aversion to these 'great gala meets.' They presented a brilliant and beautiful spectacle, especially here at Wilicza, where such fêtes were conducted on a right princely scale. Each forest station was called on to furnish its contingent of men in full gala uniform. The whole woodland district was alive, fairly swarming with foresters and huntsmen; but the most imposing sight of all was the cortége of the hunt itself as it careered along. The gentlemen, for the most part, fine noble-looking figures in well-appointed hunting dress, mounted on slender fiery steeds--the ladies in flowing habits riding by the side of their cavaliers, the servants bringing up the train; then the blast of horns and the baying of hounds. It was a scene all aglow with animation. Soon the stag came flitting by, and shots resounded on all sides, awakening the echoes and announcing the opening of the day's sport.

Now that the fog had lifted, the weather was all that could be wished. It was a cool, somewhat overcast, but fine November day. The stock of deer in the Wilicza chase was considered to be unrivalled, the arrangements were on all points excellent, and the game was most abundant. That every effort should be made to regain what had been lost in the morning was a thing of course. The short autumn afternoon was fast closing in, but no one thought of staying the sport at sight of the first shades of twilight.

Some thousand paces distant from the forester's house, which was to-day to serve as rendezvous, there lay a stretch of meadow, solitary and, as it were, lost in the midst of the encircling thickets. The close undergrowth and the mighty trees which fenced it in, made the spot invisible to all but those who knew where to find it, or who stumbled on it by accident. Now, indeed, that the chill of autumn had in some degree thinned the surrounding foliage, access could be had to it more easily. In the midst of this piece of meadow-land lay a small lake or pond, such as is often to be found in the heart of the woods. During the summer months, with its waving reeds and dreamy water-lilies, it lent to the place a peculiar poetic charm of its own; but now it brooded dark and bare, fading leaves floating on its surface, its brink edged by a circle of brown discoloured grass, autumnally desolate like all its surroundings.

Under one of the trees, which stretched its boughs far out over the meadow, stood Countess Morynska, quite unattended and alone. Her retirement must have been a voluntary one. She could not have accidentally wandered from the hunt, for sounds of the gay party were to be heard distinct enough, though borne over from a distance, and close at hand stood the forester's house, where the young lady must have left her horse. She seemed purposely to have sought, and wishful to preserve, her present solitude. Leaning against the trunk of a tree, she gazed fixedly at the water, and yet plainly saw neither it nor any other feature of the landscape before her. Her thoughts were elsewhere. Wanda's beautiful eyes could take a very sombre look, as was evident at this moment. She appeared to be struggling with some feeling of angry resentment; to judge, however, by the knitting of her white brow and the defiant curl of her lips, this feeling would not allow itself to be so easily mastered, but stood its ground firmly. Farther and farther the hunt receded, taking, as it seemed, the direction towards the river, and leaving this part of the chase quiet and free. Gradually the varied, confused tones died away in the ever-increasing distance; only the dull shots reverberated through the air--then these too ceased, and all became still, still as death, in the forest.

Wanda must have stood so, motionless, for some length of time, when the sound of steps and a rustling close at hand attracted her attention. She raised herself impatiently, and was about to search for the cause of the disturbance, when the bushes were thrust aside, and Waldemar Nordeck stepped out from among them. He started at sight of the Countess. The unexpected meeting seemed as little agreeable to him as to her, but a retreat now was out of the question; they were too near each other for that. Waldemar bowed slightly, and said, "I was not aware that you had already left the hunt. Countess Morynska has the reputation of being so indefatigable a sportswoman--will she be missing at the close of the day?"

"I may retort with a like question," replied Wanda. "You, of all people, to be absent from the last run!"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I have had quite enough of it. The noise and bustle of such a day destroy all the pleasure of the sport for me. To my mind all the excitement of the thing is in its chances, in the trouble one has to take. I miss all this, and, more especially, I miss the forest stillness and forest solitude."

Quiet and solitude were precisely what Wanda herself had felt in need of, what she had sought here; but nothing, of course, would have induced her to admit it. She merely asked--

"You come now from the forester's house?"

"No, I sent on Norman there before me. The hunt is away down by the river. The run will soon be over now, and they are sure to pass by here on their return. The rendezvous is close by."

"And what are we to do in the mean time?" asked Wanda, impatiently.

"Wait," returned Waldemar, laconically, as he unslung his gun and uncocked it.

The young Countess frowned. "Wait!" In a matter of course tone as though he took her staying for granted! She had a great mind to return at once to the forester's house; but no! It was for him to withdraw after disturbing her so unceremoniously in her retreat. She resolved to remain, even though she must spend some time longer in this Nordeck's company.

He certainly made no sign of going. He had leaned his gun against a tree, and now stood with folded arms surveying the landscape. Not once to-day had the sun succeeded in breaking through the veil of clouds; but now, at its setting, it gilded them with a bright gleam. A yellow flame spread over the western horizon, glimmering pale and uncertain through the trees, and the mists, those first precursors of evening, began to rise from the meadow ground. Very autumnal did the forest look with its half-stripped branches and carpet of dry leaves spread on the ground. Not a trace was there of that fresh sweet life which breathes through the woods in spring and summer, of that mighty vital force which pulses then through Nature's veins; everywhere existence seemed on the ebb, everywhere marks were visible of slow but unceasing decay.

The young Countess's eyes were fixed, darkly meditative, on her companion's face, as though she must and would decipher some enigma there. He seemed aware of her observation, though turning from her as he stood, for he suddenly faced round, and said carelessly, in the tone of a common remark--

"There is something desolate in the look of such an autumn landscape as evening comes on."

"And yet it has a peculiar poetic melancholy of its own," said she. "Do not you think so?"

"I?" he asked, sharply. "I have had very little to do with poetry--as you know, Countess Morynska."

"Yes, I know," she answered, in the same tone; "but there are moments when it forces itself upon one."

"It may be so with romantic natures. People of my sort have to learn to push through life without either romance or poetry. The years must be endured and lived through one way or another."

"How calmly you say that! Mere patient endurance was not exactly your forte formerly. I think you are wonderfully changed in that respect."

"Oh, one does not always remain a passionate, hot-headed boy! But perhaps you think I can never get the better of my old childish follies."

Wanda bit her lips. He had shown her very plainly that he could get the better of them. "I do not doubt it," she said, coldly. "I give you credit for much that you do not see fit to show openly."

Waldemar became attentive. For one moment he looked keenly, scrutinisingly at the young lady, and then replied quietly--

"In that case you set yourself in opposition to all Wilicza. People here are unanimous in declaring me a most inoffensive person."

"Because you wish to pass for such. I do not believe it."

"You are very good to ascribe a most unmerited importance to me," said Waldemar, ironically; "but it is cruel of you to deprive me of the single advantage I possess in the eyes of my mother and brother, that of being harmless and insignificant."

"If my aunt could hear the tone in which you say that, she would alter her opinion," declared Wanda, irritated by his sarcasm. "For the present, I am certainly alone in mine."

"And so you will continue," said Nordeck. "The world sees in me an indefatigable sportsman; perhaps, after the trial of day, it may vouch me a skilful rider--nothing more."

"Are you really bent on sport, Herr Nordeck, all these long days while you are roaming about with your gun and game bag?" asked the young lady, fixing a keen look on him.

"And on what else might I be bent, according to your notion?"

"I do not know, but I fancy you are inspecting your Wilicza, inspecting it closely. There is not a forester's station, not a village, not a farm, however distant from your property, which you have not visited. You have even called at the farms leased out to the different tenants, and you will no doubt soon be as much at home everywhere else as you already are in your mother's drawing-room. You appear there but seldom, it is true, and play the part of an indifferent bystander; yet nothing of what is going on, no word or look, escapes you. You seem to bestow but little notice on our visitors; yet there is not one of them who has not had to pass muster before you and on whom you have not pronounced your verdict."

She had gone on delivering thrust after thrust with a sureness of aim and decision of manner well calculated to disconcert him, and, for a moment, he actually was unable to answer her. He stood with a darkened face and lips tightly pressed together, visibly striving to overcome his annoyance. It was, however, no easy thing to vanquish 'this Nordeck.' When he looked up the cloud was still on his brow, but his voice expressed nothing save the keenest sarcasm.

"You really make me feel ashamed, Countess. You show me that from the very day of my arrival I have been the object of your close and exclusive observation. That is indeed more than I deserve!"

Wanda started, and flashed a look, scorching in its anger, at the man who ventured to return her shaft.

"I certainly do not deny the observation," said she; "but you will feel perfectly assured, Herr Nordeck, that no personal interest has any share in it."

He smiled with unfeigned bitterness. "You are quite right. I do not suppose that you take any interest in my person. You are safe from any such suspicion on my part."

Wanda would not understand the allusion, but she avoided meeting his glance. "You will, at least, bear me witness that I have been candid," she continued. "It is for you now to admit or to deny the truth of that which I have observed."

"And if I decline to answer you?"

"I shall infer that I have seen aright, and shall earnestly endeavour to convince my aunt of the fact that her son is a more dangerous person than she supposes."

The same sarcastic expression played about Waldemar's lips as he answered her. "Your judgment may be of the highest order, Countess Morynska, but you are no diplomatist, or you would choose your words more cautiously. Dangerous! The term is a significant one."

The young lady involuntarily shrank back in evident alarm. "I repeated your own expression, I think," said she, recovering herself quickly.

"Oh, that is different. I began to fancy that something was going on at Wilicza, and that my presence here was looked on as a danger."

Wanda made no reply. She saw now how extremely imprudent she had been to offer battle on this ground, where her adversary showed himself so completely her match. He parried every blow, returned her every thrust, and entangled her hopelessly in her own words, and he had withal the advantage of coolness and composure on his side, while she was on the verge of losing her self-command. She saw plainly that she could make no head in this direction, so she took a rapid resolution, and boldly tore away the net which her own unguarded words had woven about her.

"Lay aside your tone of scorn," said she, fixing her grave dark eyes full upon him. "I know that it is not meant for the matter we are discussing, but solely and altogether for me. You oblige me at last to touch upon a point which I should certainly have left buried in the past, were it not that you are continually recurring to it. Whether such conduct is chivalrous, I will not stay to inquire, but you must feel as well as I do that it has brought us into a position which is becoming intolerable. I offended you once, and you have never forgiven me to the present day. Well"--she paused a moment, and drew a long breath----"I behaved ill to you then. Will that suffice you?"

It was a strange apology, made even stranger by the haughty tone in which it was offered, the tone of a proud woman who knows right well that it involves no humiliation to herself if she stoops to ask pardon of a man for having made him the toy of her caprices. Countess Morynska was, doubtless, fully conscious of this, or she would hardly have deigned to speak the words. They produced, however, a very different effect from that which she had expected.

Waldemar had stepped a pace or two back; his eyes seemed to look her through and through. "Really?" he said, slowly, emphasising every word. "I did not know that Wilicza was worth that to your party!"

"You think ..." cried Wanda, vehemently.

"I think that once already I have had to pay dearly for being the owner of this place," he interrupted her with a warmth which showed that he too was roused at length; his tone told of a long pent-up, rankling irritation. "In those days the object in view was to open Wilicza to my mother and her interests; now this Wilicza is to be preserved to those same interests, cost what it may. But they forget that I am no longer an inexperienced boy. You yourself have opened my eyes, Countess, and now I shall keep them open at the risk of having my conduct stigmatised by you as unchivalrous."

Wanda had grown deadly pale. Her right hand, hanging by her side, clenched itself convulsively in the velvet folds of her habit.

"Enough," she said, controlling herself with an effort. "I see that you wish for no reconciliation, and that you have recourse to insults in order to make any understanding between us possible. Well and good, I accept the enmity you offer me.

"You are mistaken," replied Waldemar, more calmly. "I offer you no enmity. That would indeed be a lack of chivalry towards ..."

"Towards whom?" cried the young Countess, with flashing eyes, as he paused.

"Towards my brother's promised wife!"

A thrill passed through Wanda. Strange that the word should strike her as with a sudden pang. Involuntarily her eyes sought the ground.

"I have postponed offering you my congratulations hitherto," continued Waldemar. "Pray accept them to-day."

The Countess bowed her head in silent acknowledgment. She herself knew not what closed her lips, but at that moment she found it impossible to answer him. It was the first time this subject had been touched on between them, and the simple mention of it seemed to suffice, for Waldemar added no syllable to his congratulatory speech.

The yellow flame had long ago died out of the sky, and in its place had come a dreary, murky grey. The evening breeze swept through the half-stripped bushes and rustled among the crests of the tall trees, still partly decked with their gay many-tinted foliage; drooping and faded it hung now from the branches, leaf after leaf fluttered noiselessly to the ground, strewing the grass and the surface of the little lake. Through the scantily clothed boughs came a sort of low-whispered autumnal lament for the beauty and life which had been so blooming and verdant in the old sunshiny days, but was now fast sinking into its grave. Gloomy and weird the forest loomed across with all its fantastic, indistinct shadows; and here in the vaporous meadow the moist veil rose, ever thicker and thicker, hovered hither and thither, finally massing itself over the small piece of water. There it remained, a white spectral vision, floating uneasily backwards and forwards, stretching out its great humid arms to the two figures standing on the brink, as though it would have gathered them to it, shaping the while before their eyes a thousand forms and pictures, one pressing back, one flowing into the other in endless variation.

Nothing was to be heard but the monotonous sough of the wind, the rustle of the falling leaves--yet stay! what sound was that which, through it all, came like the distant, distant roar of the sea, while lo! out from the bosom of the seething mists a Fata Morgana rose to view. There appeared the green branches of mighty secular beeches, all flooded in the last golden glow of evening, the blue surging sea in its vast immeasurable greatness. Slowly the burning sun sank into the waters, and out from the stream of light, which at its contact spread far over the waves, arose once more the fairy city of the legend in all its halo of mystic fancy and enchanted splendour. The treasure kingdom again opened its untold stores, and once again, fuller now and more resonant than in that hour on the Beech Holm, rang out the bells of Vineta.

The old tale had not held good in the case of the two who had lived through that charmed hour together. Hostile and as strangers they had parted; hostile and as strangers they had since met, and so they now stood face to face. The youth had become a cold stern man, pursuing in proud reserve his solitary way through life; the child had ripened into a happy beautiful woman, but to neither of them had come again that which yon hour had brought them. Only now, on this dreary autumnal evening did it all quicken into life anew; and, as the remembrance was wafted over to them, the years which lay between faded away; hatred, strife, and bitterness, all grew dim; nothing remained but that deep inexpressible aspiration towards an unknown happiness which had first been called into being by the spirit bells of Vineta--nothing but the old sunset dream.

Waldemar was the first to rouse himself. He passed his hand rapidly across his brow, as though by an effort of will he would shake off all these fancies and drive away the vision.

"We should do much better to return to the forester's house, and wait there for the hunting party," said he, hastily. "The twilight is falling, and one can hardly breathe in this sea of mist."

Wanda assented at once. She, too, had seen enough of the phantasmagoria contained in that sea of mist, and was anxious by any means to put an end to the interview. She raised her habit and prepared to go. Waldemar threw his gun over his shoulder, and they were about to start when suddenly he paused.

"I offended you with my suspicions a little while ago, and perhaps I was unjust; but--be candid with me--was the half apology to which you condescended really intended for Waldemar Nordeck, or not rather for the master of Wilicza, with whom a reconciliation is sought in order that he may abet, or at least shut his eyes to, that which is passing on his estates."

"So you know ...?" interrupted Wanda, and then stopped in confusion.

"Enough to take from you all apprehension of having been indiscreet just now. Did they really think me so unintelligent that I alone should be blind to what is already subject of conversation in L----, namely, that a party movement is going on, of which Wilicza is the seat, and my mother the soul and centre. There could be no danger in your owning to me what the whole neighbourhood knows. I knew it before I came here."

Wanda was silent. She tried to read in his face how much he knew, but Waldemar's features were undecipherable as ever.

"But that is not the question now," he began again. "I was asking for an answer to my question. Was that act of self-conquest a voluntary one, or--had the task been set you? Oh, do not start so indignantly. I only ask, and you can surely forgive me for looking distrustfully on any show of friendliness on your part, Wanda."

The young Countess would probably have taken these words as a fresh offence, and have answered them in an angry spirit, had they not conveyed a something which disarmed her in spite of herself. A change had come over Waldemar since he had looked into that mist yonder. He was hostile and frigid no longer; his voice, too, had quite another sound--it was softer, almost subdued. A little shock passed through Wanda as, for the first time for years, he pronounced her name.

"If my aunt at one time made me the unconscious instrument of her plans, you should accuse her, and not me," she replied, in a low tone; and, as she uttered them, some invisible power seemed to rob her words of their sting. "I suspected nothing of it. I was a child following the impulses of my caprices, but now"--she raised her head proudly--"now I am accountable to no one for what I do and leave undone, and the words I spoke just now were spoken on my own responsibility alone. You are right, they were not intended for Waldemar Nordeck; since he and I met, he has never given me cause to seek or even to wish for a reconciliation. My object was to force the master of Wilicza into raising for once his closed vizier. There is no need for that now. This interview of ours has taught me what I suspected before, that we have in you a bitter, a merciless adversary, who will use his power at the decisive moment, even though in so doing he must trample all family, all natural ties under foot."

"To whom should these ties bind me, pray?" asked Waldemar. "To my mother, perhaps, you think? My mother and I know very well how matters stand between us. She is less disposed than ever to forgive me for inheriting the Nordeck wealth, instead of her younger son. Or perhaps to Leo? Well, it may be that some brotherly love exists between us; but I do not think it would hold good if our ways should chance to cross, at all events not on his part."

"Leo would willingly have met you as a brother, if you had not made it too hard for him," interrupted Wanda. "You were always reserved and distant even with him; but there were times formerly when he could draw nearer you, when the fact that you were brothers could be discerned. But now it would be asking too much of his pride to endeavour to break through the icy barrier you oppose to him and to all those about you. It would be quite in vain for your mother and brother to come to you with demonstrations of affection; they would be met by a hard indifference which cares neither for them nor for any one in this world."

She stopped, for Waldemar was standing close to her side, and his eyes were riveted on her.

"You judge very correctly, very unsparingly," he said, slowly. "Have you never asked yourself what has made me hard and austere? There was a time when I was not so, at least not to you--when a word, a look could guide me, when I lent myself patiently to every whim. You might have done much with me then, Wanda--almost anything. That you were not willing, that my handsome, chivalrous brother even in those days carried off the palm was, after all, but natural. What could I have been to you? But you must understand that the events of those days formed a crisis in my life, and a man, who--like myself, for instance--has no turn for constant melancholy, naturally grows hard and suspicious after such an experience. Now, indeed, I look upon it as a piece of good fortune that my boyish romance was nipped in the bud--else my mother would infallibly have conceived the idea of repeating in our persons the drama which was performed here twenty years ago, when a Nordeck brought home a Morynska as his bride. You, a girl of sixteen, would possibly have submitted to the expressed will of your family, and I--should have shared my father's fate. From that we have both been preserved, and now the whole thing is over and buried in the past. I only wished to recall to your mind that you have no right to reproach me if I seem hard to you and yours.--Will you let me go with you now to the forester's house?"

Wanda followed him in silence. Angry and ready for the fray as she had been at first, the turn finally taken by the conversation had struck the weapons from her hand. To-day again they parted as foes, but they both felt that henceforth the nature of the struggle between them was changed--possibly the struggle itself would not on that account be a less arduous one.

Shrouded in its own misty breath, the meadow lay more and more closely hedged around by the dusky evening shadows. Over the lake the white cloud still hovered, but now it was only a formless, ever-shifting mass of vapour. The dream-picture which had risen from it, had vanished once more--whether it were forgotten could only be known to the two who walked on together silently side by side. Here in the dreary autumnal forests, in the eerie twilight hour, the old sea-legend from out of the far north had been wafted over to them, whispering anew the prophecy, "He who has once looked on Vineta will know no rest all his life for a longing to see the fair city again, even though he himself should be drawn down by it into the depths."

CHAPTER V.

The two rooms in the Castle occupied by Dr. Fabian looked out on to the park, and were in some measure shut off from the rest of the house. There was a special reason for this. When the Princess caused the hitherto unused apartments of her first husband to be put in readiness for that husband's son, some thought was naturally given to the ex-tutor who was to accompany him, and a room was prepared in consequence. It was rather small and very noisy, for it lay next to the main staircase; but, according to the lady's notion, it was just suited to the Doctor. She knew that at Altenhof very little fuss had been made about him, especially by his former pupil. There must have been a considerable change in this respect, however, for on his arrival Waldemar had declared the accommodation to be quite inadequate, had caused the visitors' rooms on the other side of the house to be opened, and had sequestrated two of them to his friend's use. Now these rooms had been specially fitted up for Count Morynski and his daughter, who often spent whole weeks at Wilicza. Of this fact the young owner of the place could not possibly be aware; but when Pawlick, who now filled the office of major-domo at the Castle, opened his mouth to reply, Waldemar stopped him with a brief inquiry as to whether the apartments in question formed part of the Princess's suite, or of Prince Leo's. On receiving an answer in the negative, he declared very decidedly, "Then Dr. Fabian will occupy them at once." That same day the corridor which ran close by, where the servants were constantly passing up and down, was closed, and the order given that in future they were to go round by the other staircase, in order not to disturb the Doctor by running to and fro--and so the matter was settled.

The Princess said no word when informed of these occurrences. She had laid it down as a rule never to contradict her son in trifles. Other rooms were immediately prepared for her brother and niece. Still it was natural that she should look upon poor Fabian, the innocent cause of this mishap, with no very friendly eyes. She never made this apparent, it is true, for both she herself and the whole Castle soon came to know that Waldemar was exceedingly sensitive on the subject of his old tutor, and that, though he claimed little attention for himself, any failure of respect towards the Doctor would be most sharply reproved by him. This was almost the only point on which he asserted his right to command; but on this head he spoke so emphatically that every one, from the Princess down to the domestics, treated Dr. Fabian with the utmost consideration.

It was no very hard task to be polite to the quiet, retiring man, who was always so modest and courteous, who stood in nobody's way, required but very little attendance, and showed himself grateful for the smallest service. He was rarely seen except at table, for he spent the whole day over his books, and his evenings generally in the company of his old pupil, with whom he seemed on the most intimate footing. "He is the only being for whom Waldemar has any regard," the Princess said to her brother, when she explained to him the change in his quarters. "We must respect this whim, though I really do not understand what he can see in this tiresome professor. Formerly he used altogether to ignore the man, and now he makes quite a pet of him."

However it may have come about, the complete change in his circumstances had exercised an unmistakable influence on Dr. Fabian. His timidity and modesty were conspicuous as ever; they were too deeply ingrained in his nature ever to be eradicated; but the anxious, depressed look, which had clouded his face of old, had disappeared with all that was painful in his position. He had grown stronger, healthier of aspect than in former days. The years spent at the University, and his subsequent travels, may have helped to transform the sickly, shy, neglected tutor into a well-bred man, whose pale but winning countenance and low sweet-toned voice impressed every one favourably, and whose timidity alone prevented him from appearing everywhere to advantage.

The Doctor had a visitor, a rare occurrence with him. By his side on the sofa sat no less a person than the Government Assessor, Herr Hubert of L----, most peacefully minded on this occasion and indulging in no dreams of arrest. That former fatal error of his was precisely what had led to the acquaintanceship. Dr. Fabian had shown himself the one friend and consoler in the deluge of troubles which had poured down on the Assessor's devoted head when once the thing became known. This happened all too soon. Gretchen had been 'heartless enough,' as Hubert expressed it, to relate the story in fullest detail to her friends in L----. The tale of the master of Wilicza's intended arrest went the round of the whole town; and, if no formal report of the affair was laid before the President, that magnate soon got to hear of it, and the over zealous official received a sharply worded piece of advice to be more prudent in future, and next time he was seeking to lay hands on secret Polish emissaries not to fix on a great German landowner, on whose attitude so much might depend. The incident was known, too, in Wilicza. Waldemar himself had told the Princess--the whole neighbourhood knew of it, and wherever the unfortunate Assessor put in an appearance, he was met by covert allusions or open taunts.

On the very day following his misadventure he had called on Herr Nordeck to offer his apologies, but had not found that gentleman at home. The Doctor, though himself an offended party, had behaved with generosity on this occasion. He received the crestfallen Hubert, consoled him to the best of his ability, and undertook to make his excuses for him. But the Assessor's contrition was neither of great depth nor duration. He possessed far too great a dose of self-importance to attain to any true knowledge of his own merits; and, like any steel spring, rebounded into his former position, so soon as the pressure was withdrawn. The general derision annoyed and hurt him, but his confidence in himself was in no degree shaken by it. Any one else after such a misfortune would have kept as quiet as possible, in order to let the remembrance of it die away, and would certainly not, for some time to come, have eagerly undertaken similar tasks. This, however, was precisely what Hubert did with a feverish zeal. The fixed idea had taken possession of him that he must make good his fiasco and show his colleagues, the President, and all L----, that, notwithstanding what had occurred, his intelligence was, beyond all doubt, of a superior order. It was absolutely necessary now that he should capture a couple of conspirators, or unearth a plot, no matter how or where; it grew to be, in some sort, a question of life or death with him, and he was constantly in pursuit of the object he had set himself to attain.

Wilicza still remained the focus of his observations; Wilicza, which in L---- was well known to be dangerous ground, and yet over which no hold could be obtained! There seemed less chance than ever of getting at the truth, for it was evident that all hopes founded on the master's presence must be given up. He was, although a German, entirely in the hands of his Polish relations, and if not a consenting party, at least indifferent to their operations. This conduct, which was very generally condemned in L----, found its severest judge in the Assessor. In a like position, how much more energetically would he have acted, how he at a blow would have extinguished and defeated their secret intrigues! He would have been a shining example of loyalty to the whole province, would have earned the gratitude of the State and the admiration of the world in general. However, as he was not lord of Wilicza, nor even Counsellor as yet, no choice was left him but to set to work to discover the conspiracy which assuredly existed. To this aim and object all his thoughts and endeavours now tended.

There was indeed no mention of such matters in the talk between the two gentlemen. The good-natured Dr. Fabian must not be allowed to perceive that this visit to him was prompted by a burning desire to effect an entrance into the Castle. The Assessor had, therefore, sought a pretext in a subject which was certainly one of interest to him, but which he could very well have introduced at the steward's house, where he and Fabian occasionally met.

"I have a favour to ask of you, Doctor," he began, after a few words of greeting and preface had been spoken, "a little claim to make on your kindness. It is not exactly a personal matter, but one concerning the Frank family at whose house you frequently visit. As Herr Nordeck's former tutor, you are no doubt acquainted with French?"

"I speak it certainly," answered the Doctor; "but I have got rather out of practice during the last few years. Herr Nordeck does not like the language, and here at Wilicza every one pays us the attention of speaking German to us exclusively."

"Yes, yes, practice!" interrupted the Assessor. "That is just what Fräulein Margaret wants. She spoke French very nicely when she came back from school a few years ago, but here in the country she has no opportunity for it. I was going to ask if you would occasionally read, or hold a little conversation in French with the young lady. You have plenty of time, and you would confer a great obligation on me."

"On you, Herr Hubert?" asked Fabian, amazed. "I must confess to feeling some surprise that such a proposition should come from you rather than from Herr Frank, or the Fräulein herself."

"There are good reasons for it," said Hubert, with dignity. "You may possibly have already remarked--I make no secret of it--that I cherish certain wishes and intentions which may be realised at no very distant date. In a word, I look on the young lady as my betrothed."

The Doctor suddenly stooped to pick up a sheet of paper which lay on the floor, and which he now scrutinised attentively although it bore no writing. "I congratulate you," he said, laconically.

"Oh, for the present I must decline to accept congratulations," smiled the Assessor, with indescribable self-complacency. "There has been no avowal of our sentiments as yet, though I think I may safely count on her consent. To be frank, before proffering my suit, I should prefer to obtain the Counsellorship which I am shortly expecting. Such a position would produce a better effect, and you must know that Fräulein Frank is a good match."

"Really?"

"An excellent match. The steward is a rich man, there can be no doubt of that. Think of all the money he must have made here in twenty years, what with his salary and his percentage on everything! It is a positive fact that, on leaving his post, he means to buy and settle down on a place of his own, and I know that he is realising capital to a considerable amount with that intention. Fräulein Margaret and her brother, who is now studying at the school of agriculture, are the only children. I can count on a fair dowry and a snug little fortune to be inherited by-and-by. Added to this, the young lady herself is a most amiable, charming girl, whom I adore."

"Added to this!" repeated the Doctor, in a low tone, but with a bitterness most unusual to him. His murmured exclamation escaped the Assessor, who went on with an air of great importance.

"Frank has spared nothing in the education of his children. His daughter was for a long time at one of the first establishments in P----, and there acquired all that a lady need know--much to my satisfaction, for you will easily understand, Doctor, that, looking to my future position, it is indispensable that my wife should be a person of cultivated mind. It will be required of us to appear in society, and to entertain at home, and therefore I feel it a duty even now to see that such accomplishments as pianoforte playing and French are not laid aside and forgotten. If you would be so good, therefore, in regard to the latter ..."

"With pleasure, if Herr Frank and his daughter wish it," said Fabian, in a constrained tone.

"Certainly they wish it, but it was I more especially who counted on your kind help," declared Hubert, who was evidently very proud of his bright idea. "When Fräulein Margaret was complaining not long ago that she had very nearly forgotten her French, her father hit on the plan of having the master of languages out from the town occasionally. Just imagine! a young Frenchman who would begin making love to his pupil at the very first lesson! Frank's head is always running on his farming and his accounts, and he does not trouble himself with such things, but I was more prudent. I would not have that young Frenchman there so often, playing the gallant with the girl, for anything; but a man of more advanced age, like yourself ..."

"I am thirty-seven, sir," the Doctor interrupted him.

"Oh, never mind, that has nothing to do with it," said Hubert, smiling. "I should be quite easy with you--but I should really have taken you to be older! Tell me though, Doctor, what made you bring such a quantity of books with you as you have here? What are you studying? Pedagogical science, I suppose. May I look?"

He rose, and was going towards the writing-table, but Dr. Fabian was quicker than he. With a rapid movement, almost betokening alarm, he threw a newspaper over some bound volumes lying on the table, and placed himself before them.

"Only a hobby of mine," said he, a vivid flush mounting to his cheeks. "Historical studies."

"Oh, historical studies!" repeated the Assessor. "Well, then, I must inquire whether you know Professor Schwarz, the great authority on such matters. He is my uncle. But, of course, you must know him. He is on the staff of the University of J----, where Herr Nordeck studied."

"I have that pleasure," said Fabian, rather dejectedly, with a glance at the newspaper.

"How should you not?" cried the Assessor. "My uncle is a celebrity, an intellect of the very first order! We have every reason to be proud of his relationship, though our family can boast many a well-sounding name. Now I do not consider that I disgrace it myself!"

The Doctor still stood anxiously on his guard before his writing-table, as though to ensure himself against any attempt at robbery or violence on the part of the Assessor, but that gentleman was now far too deeply absorbed by the importance of his family in general, and by his uncle's celebrity in particular, to pay any special attention to the scribbling of an insignificant tutor. Nevertheless he felt himself called on to say something polite.

"But it is extremely creditable for laymen to take an interest in such studies," he remarked, condescendingly. "I only fear that you cannot have the necessary leisure for them here. There must be a great deal of stir in the Castle, a continual coming and going of all sorts of people, is there not?"

"It may be so," replied Fabian, unsuspiciously, and without an inkling of the manœuvre executed by his visitor; "but Waldemar, knowing my bent, has been so kind as to choose for me the most secluded and quietest rooms."

"Naturally, naturally!" Hubert was standing at the window now, trying to take a thorough survey of the place. "But I should fancy that such an old building as this Wilicza, dating back through many centuries, must in itself have a great interest for you, with its various historical reminiscences. All these halls, staircases, and galleries! and what immense cellars there must be below! Were you ever in the cellars?"

"In the cellars?" asked the Doctor, in much astonishment. "No, certainly not. What should I be doing there?"

"I should go down," said the Assessor. "I have a fancy for such old vaults, as indeed for everything that is curious. By-the-by, is the late Herr Nordeck's collection of arms still complete? They say he had a most extravagant mania for such things, and that he got together hundreds of the finest rifles and other weapons."

"You must ask his son!" Dr. Fabian replied with a shrug. "I own I have not yet been in the armoury."

"That will be on the other side of the house," observed Hubert, taking his bearings with all the keenness of a detective. "According to Frank's description it must be a dark, uncanny sort of place, like everything about Wilicza indeed. Have not you heard that the house is haunted? You have not yourself noticed anything unusual, out of the common, at night, I suppose?"

"I sleep at night," replied the Doctor, tranquilly, but with a slight smile at his visitor's superstition.

The Assessor cast an appealing glance towards Heaven. This man, whom accident had placed in the very heart of the place, saw and heard nothing of what was going on around him. He had not visited the cellars; he had not even been in the armoury, and at night he slept! No information could be extracted from this simple bookworm. Hubert could see that, so after a few polite speeches he took his leave and left the room.

He went slowly along the corridor. On his arrival a servant had received, and led him to the Doctor's study; but now on his way back he was alone, alone in this 'nest of conspiracy,' which now, in the broad daylight, with its carpeted galleries and stairs, certainly appeared as secure and dignified in its repose as the most loyal home of the most loyal subject. But the Assessor was not to be deluded by appearances. Right and left he scented those plots which unfortunately escaped his grasp. There was a door which had a suspicious look, he thought. It stood in the shade of a colossal pillar, and was strongly and deeply encased in the wall. This door possibly led to a back staircase, or into a secret gallery, possibly even below into the cellars which Hubert's fancy at once peopled with troops of traitors and filled with concealed stacks of arms. Should he press the latch? At the worst, he could allege a mistake, could say he had lost himself in the Castle's intricate ways ... perhaps the key to all its secrets lay here.... Suddenly the door opened, and Waldemar Nordeck stepped out. The Assessor sprang back. Just Heaven! for the second time he had nearly fallen foul of the master of Wilicza. One glance through the open chink showed him that the place he had held to be such dangerous ground was that gentleman's bedroom. Waldemar passed him with a very cool bow, and went on to Dr. Fabian's apartments. Hubert saw that, in spite of his apology, this 'suspicious character' had not forgiven him. The consciousness of this and the shock of the unexpected meeting had, for the present, robbed him of all desire for further discoveries, and a servant just then appearing on the staircase, no alternative was left him but at once to make his way out.

Meanwhile Waldemar had gone in to his old tutor, who was still standing at the writing-table, busy putting in order the books and papers he had lately screened from the Assessor's curious gaze. The young man went up to him.

"Well, what news?" he asked. "You have had letters and newspapers from J----. I saw them when I sent you the packet over."

The Doctor looked up. "Oh, Waldemar," he said in a grievous tone, "why did you almost force me to bring my work and quiet studies before the public? I resisted from the first, but you went on urging and persuading me until the book appeared."

"Of course I did. What use was it to yourself, or to any one else while it was lying shut up in that drawer? But what has happened? Your 'History of Teutonism' was received in learned circles with a favour far beyond our expectations. The first recognition of its worth came from J----, from Professor Weber, and I should think his opinion would be decisive on such a subject."

"I thought so too," replied Fabian, despondingly. "I was so proud and happy at receiving praise from such a mouth, but that is just what has roused Professor Schwarz--you know him, don't you?--to attack me and my book in quite an unprecedented manner. Just look at this."

He held out the newspaper to him. Nordeck took it and read the paragraph through coolly. "This is nothing but a charming specimen of spitefulness. The end is especially neat. 'We hear that this new celebrity just discovered by Professor Weber was for a long time tutor to the son of one of our greatest landed proprietors, and that his system of education was attended by no very brilliant result. Notwithstanding this, the influence of the distinguished pupil we speak of may have had something to do with our friend's exaggerated appreciation of a work by which an ambitious dilettante hopes to force his way into the ranks of scientific men!'"

Waldemar threw down the paper. "Poor Doctor! How often will you be made to suffer for having brought up such a monster as myself! In truth, your system of education has as little to do with my unamiable character as my influence had with Weber's review of your book; but in these exclusive circles they will never forgive you for having been a private tutor, even though you should one day mount into a Professor's chair."

"Good Heavens, who ever dreams of such a thing!" exclaimed the Doctor, fairly frightened at so bold a notion. "Not I, certainly, and therefore it hurts me all the more to be accused of ambition, and of intrusively thrusting myself forward, merely because I have written a scientific book which keeps strictly to the matter in hand, offends no one, interferes with no one ..."

"And moreover is of remarkable merit," interrupted Waldemar. "I should have thought you would have come round to that belief yourself when Weber took up the cudgels for you so decidedly. You know he does not allow himself to be influenced, and you used to think him an indisputable authority, to whom you looked up in veneration."

"Professor Schwarz is an authority too."

"Yes, but an atrabilious one who admits no one's importance but his own. What the deuce made you hit on this Teutonic theme? That is his province--he has written on that, and woe to the man who lays his finger on it. That man's work is condemned beforehand. Don't look so discouraged. It is not becoming in a recently discovered celebrity. What would Uncle Witold, with his sovereign contempt for the old 'heathen rubbish,' have said to Weber's discovery? I think you would have been treated rather more respectfully than was, I regret to say, the case. You made a great sacrifice in remaining with me."

"Do not speak so, Waldemar," said the Doctor, with a touch of indignation. "I well know on whose side the sacrifice is now! Who obstinately insisted upon keeping me with him when I could be of no further use to him, and yet refused to accept the smallest service which was likely to take me from my books? Who gave me the means to devote myself solely to study, so that I could gather together and set in order the scattered knowledge I possessed? Who almost compelled me to accompany him on his travels, because my health was shaken by constant work? The hour in which your Norman injured me was a blessed one for me. It has brought me all I ever hoped or wished for from life."

"Then you wished for very little," said Waldemar, impatiently--he was evidently anxious to turn the conversation into another channel. "But one thing more. I met that gifted representative of the L---- police wandering about the Castle just now. He had been here with you, and I see him continually over yonder at the manor farm. He can have no object in visiting us now that we have proved ourselves beyond suspicion. What is he always hanging about Wilicza for?"

Fabian looked down in much embarrassment. "I don't know, but I imagine that his frequent visits to the steward's house have a purely personal motive. He called on me to-day."

"And you received him with the utmost friendliness? Doctor, you are a living impersonation of the doctrines of Christianity. To him who smites you on the right cheek, you will meekly turn the left. I believe you would not hesitate a moment to render Professor Schwarz an important service, if it were in your power. But beware of this Assessor, with his frantic mania for arresting people. He is on the hunt for conspirators again, you may be sure; and limited as his intelligence may be, chance might for once play the right cards into his hands. It would not be difficult here at Wilicza."

The last words were spoken in such a tone of angry annoyance that the Doctor let fall the first volume of his 'History of Teutonism,' which he had just taken up.

"You have made some unpleasant discovery?" he asked. "Worse even than you expected. I thought so, though you have said so little about it."

Waldemar had sat down, and was leaning his head on his hand.

"You know that I am not fond of talking of worries so long as I have not mastered them; and besides, I wanted time to look about me. What guarantee had I that, in representing matters to me as he did, the steward was not prompted by some interest of his own, that he was not exaggerating and distorting facts? One can only trust to one's own judgment in these things, and I have been exercising mine during the last few weeks. Unfortunately, I find every word confirmed which Frank wrote to me. So far as his supremacy extends, there is order, and hard enough it must be for him to maintain it; but on the other estates, on the other farms, and worst of all in the forests--well, I was prepared to find things in a bad way, but such an utter chaos I really did not expect!"

Fabian had pushed his books and papers to one side, and was following Waldemar's words with anxious sympathy and attention. The gloomy look on his old pupil's face seemed to cause him some uneasiness.

"Uncle Witold always imagined that my Polish estates could be managed from a distance," went on Nordeck, "and unfortunately he brought me up in that belief. I disliked Wilicza. For me the place had none but bitter memories; it reminded me of the sad breach between my parents, of my own joyless early childhood. I was accustomed to look on Altenhof as my home; and later on, when I intended coming, when I ought to have come, something else held me back---- The penalty for all this has to be paid now. The twenty years of official mismanagement during my guardian's time had worked mischief enough; but the worst has come to pass in the last four years under the Baratowski régime. It is altogether my own fault. Why have I never taken any interest in the property? Why did I adopt that unfortunate habit of my uncle's of putting faith in every report which stood on paper in black and white. Now I am, as it were, sold and betrayed on my own land."

"Your majority was fixed at so early a date," said the Doctor, soothingly; "those three years at the University were indispensable to your mental culture and improvement, and when we determined on giving twelve months to travelling, we had no suspicion of how matters stood here. We set our faces homeward so soon as you received the steward's letter, and you, with your energy, will, I am sure, find yourself equal to any emergency."

"Who knows?" said Waldemar, gloomily. "The Princess is my mother, and she and Leo are quite dependent on me. It is that which ties my hands. If I once let it come to a serious rupture, they will have to leave Wilicza. Rakowicz would be their only refuge. I will not expose them, or at any rate my brother, to such a humiliation. And yet a stop must be put to all this, especially to the doings in the Castle itself. You suspect nothing? That I believe, but I know it. I only wanted to get a clear view of the state of affairs first. Now I shall speak to my mother."

A long pause ensued. Fabian did not venture to reply. He knew that when his friend's face took that expression, no trifling matters were on hand. At last, however, he got up and went over to him.

"Waldemar," he asked in a low tone, laying his hand on the young man's shoulder, "what happened yesterday, when you were out hunting?"

Waldemar looked up. "When I was out hunting? Nothing. What made you think of that?"

"You seemed so thoroughly out of sorts when you came back. I heard some allusions at dinner to a dispute between you and Prince Baratowski."

"No, no," said Nordeck, indifferently. "Leo was a little huffed, because I had treated his favourite horse rather roughly; but the thing was of no consequence. We have settled it already."

"It was something else, then?"

"Yes--something else."

"Waldemar, the other day the Princess called me your one confidant. I might have replied that you had never need of a confidant. It may be that I stand somewhat closer to you than other people, but you never open your mind to me. Is it absolutely necessary that you should bear all, fight through all alone?"

Waldemar smiled, but it was a cold, cheerless smile. "You must take me as I am. But what is there now to make you anxious? With all the worry and the annoyances which come pouring in upon me on all sides, I have reason enough to be out of sorts."

The Doctor shook his head. "It is not that. Such things may irritate and annoy you, but your present frame of mind is a very different one. I have never seen you so but once, Waldemar--that time at Altenhof ..."

"Pray spare me these reminiscences, sir," Waldemar broke in so harshly and abruptly that Fabian recoiled; then, recovering himself quickly, he added far more mildly, "I am sorry you, too, should feel the effects of the vexation and harass this Wilicza causes me. It was selfish of me to bring you. You should have returned to J----, at least until I had established some sort of order here, and until I could have offered you a peaceful asylum."

"Nothing would have induced me to let you come alone," Fabian declared in his gentle voice, but with a decision of manner most unusual to him.

Waldemar held out his hand to him, as if to ask pardon for his former vehemence. "I know it, but do not torment yourself any more about me, or I shall really regret having spoken openly to you. You have enough to do with your own affairs. When you write to J---- again, remember me to Professor Weber, and tell him I am about to make a practical illustration of your book, and to impress on my Slavonic lands the stamp of the Teuton. It is much needed here at Wilicza. Good-bye."

He went. Dr. Fabian looked after him, and sighed. "Impenetrable and hard as a rock directly one approaches that one subject; and yet I know that he has never got over the old trouble, and never will. I fear the unhappy influence, to escape which we so long avoided Wilicza, is again at work. Waldemar may deny it as he will--I saw it plainly when he came home from hunting yesterday--he is under the old spell again."

CHAPTER VI.

That evening perfect quiet and stillness reigned in Wilicza, in contrast to the bustle and stir of the preceding day, when the whole place had swarmed with guests. On the return from the hunt a great supper had been served which lasted far on into the night, and most of the guests had slept at the Castle, leaving early in the morning. Count Morynski and Leo had gone away, too, on a visit to a neighbouring château. They would not return for several days; but Wanda had remained to keep her aunt company.

The two ladies were therefore on this evening alone in the drawing-room. It was already lighted up, and the curtains had been closely drawn; no sign was to be seen within these walls of the fierce November storm raging without. The Princess was seated on a sofa; but the young Countess had risen from her chair, pushing it hastily back as though in annoyance, and was pacing uneasily up and down the room.

"Wanda, I do beg of you to spare me these Cassandra-like warnings," said the elder lady. "I tell you again, your judgment is warped by your antipathy to Waldemar. Does it necessarily follow that he is our enemy, because you choose to remain on a war-footing with him."

Wanda stopped in her walk, and looked darkly across at the speaker. "You will one day regret having treated my warnings with ridicule, aunt," she replied. "I persist in my opinion. You are mistaken in your son. He is neither so blind nor so indifferent as you and every one else believe."

"Instead of these vague prophecies, why not say clearly and distinctly what it is you really fear?" said the Princess. "You know that in such a case as this I do not care for people's views and fancies. I require proofs. What has suggested to you this suspicion to which you cling so obstinately? Tell me what Waldemar really said to you yesterday when you met him at the forester's station."