A Dash .. .. .. For a Throne Part 46

"Still what?" I asked.

I think she was going to make some pretty quip in reply, for I saw a smile half mischievous and all witching on her face; but, reading by my looks how much store I set on her answer, she said earnestly:

"The one man in the world who has proved himself as true as steel to me, and whom I trust with my whole heart."

"You may," I answered, with an earnestness equal to her own, and my hand, which was resting on the horse's neck, turned and sought hers, and pressed it in a strong, firm clasp. "Whatever happens," I added, "I can at least be your friend, and I will."

We stood thus awhile, our heart-thoughts in close sympathy, till she started and lifted her head. Those quick ears of hers had caught the sound of a horse's hoofs approaching from behind us.

"Some one is coming. You have not yet told me something. How am I to call you, and by what name to think of you?"

"There is still a longish story to tell, and I will tell it all to you; but for the present we must keep up our play of cousinship until the truth can be safely told. That will not be long now."

"And then? But there, I do not wish our cousinship to end. I am glad to know so much, however. Every time I say 'cousin' I shall think of this talk to-night."

I took the horse's bridle again then, and led him on, for the sounds of the hoofs behind us were growing clear and distinct, and we did not speak until Major Gessler rode up to us.

"You have not got so far as I expected, Prince," was his greeting. "I'm afraid I seemed to leave you rather in the lurch."

"This horse of ours was tired, and we stayed a time on the road," I answered, not without a slight feeling of embarra.s.sment. We should probably have reached the house at Landsberg but for the long halt I had made in telling my story. "But what is your news, major?"

"They are following," he said briefly, and he made a sign to me that something very serious had occurred, which I judged he did not care to tell before Minna.

She saw the gesture and read it also.

"Have they fought?" she asked.

"No, there was no fighting; but the Count von Nauheim has met with a serious accident--very serious."

He thought evidently that any ill news in regard to him might need to be broken carefully to Minna.

"You may speak plainly," I said. "Is he dead?"

"Yes, he is dead. When he ran off in that way, and Signor Praga after him, the shots we heard were fired at the count's horse by his pursuer.

His object was not to kill the man, but to prevent his escape. Both shots missed their aim, however, and then he determined to ride the man down. On the brow of the hill, where you saw them disappear, comes a straight bit of road for a couple of miles, at the end of which is a steep, dangerous hill. Both men rode like madmen across the level--Praga, who is a splendid horseman, gaining steadily all the time.

Finding that he was being caught, von Nauheim began to punish his horse mercilessly, and when they came to the steep descent the poor brute seems to have stretched himself for a final effort to answer the call on him. For a moment he raced away from the other, but when about half-way down the hill he collapsed suddenly, and dropped like a stone. So frightful was the speed at which they had been going that horse and rider rolled over and over several times in an almost indistinguishable ma.s.s. Praga, who was not far behind, had great difficulty in avoiding them and in checking his own horse. When he went back to von Nauheim he found him dead. The stirrups had prevented him from getting free when the smash came, and the horse had fallen on him and rolled over him, breaking his back and crushing the life out of him. He was a horrible sight."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HORSE HAD FALLEN ON HIM AND ROLLED OVER HIM.]

"I am glad Praga didn't kill him," I said. "But I can't say I am sorry he has met his death. He deserved it."

The others made no reply, and we held on our way without speaking. The officer rode on the other side of Minna; and the silence of the night was broken only by the sound of the horses' hoofs, the major's being restive, and breaking now and then into an amble.

"Do you know much of Signor Praga, Prince?" asked the major after a long silence.

"Not enough to speak of him," I replied shortly; and the effort at conversation closed as abruptly as it had begun.

When we had covered a couple more miles, he said he would ride on and prepare for our arrival, and I was not sorry to be quit of him.

"It is a terrible end," said Minna thoughtfully, referring to von Nauheim.

"A more merciful one than he deserved," said I. I could find no pity for such a scoundrel. "He has been a traitor all his life."

"He is dead," said the girl gently.

"But he lived too long. Years ago I would have killed him had he not run from me."

"You knew him years ago?"

"And never knew anything but ill of him. It was because of my knowledge of him that I stayed on at Gramberg. That is part of the story I have yet to tell you."

"When?" she asked eagerly.

"To-morrow. I would tell it you now, but we are close to the house."

And a few minutes later we turned in at the lodge gates, and were winding our way through the high shrubs which lined the drive for more than half the way to the mansion.

When we reached the house an old motherly woman came forward to receive Minna and take her to her rooms.

The girl stood a moment, and put both her hands into mine, with a gesture she had used once just after my arrival at Gramberg. She was thinking of it, too.

"Do you remember my telling you at Gramberg how I trusted you?" she asked, leaving her hands in mine and looking into my eyes.

"I could never forget it," said I, speaking low.

"My instinct was very true, wasn't it? I knew. And after to-night I trust my friend more than I even trusted my cousin. Goodnight, friend--and cousin."

"Goodnight."

A slight shade pa.s.sed over her face for a moment, though a great light was shining in her eyes, and she waited as it I should say more.

"Good night, Minna," I whispered.

And then she cast her eyes down and blushed; and after standing thus for the s.p.a.ce of perhaps five seconds she took her hands gently out of mine, glanced once rapidly into my face, smiled, and turned to the woman, who was waiting at a distance.

"Be up early, cousin," I called to her in a tone of a.s.sumed indifference, as if anything about her could be indifferent to me, "for we must make our plans."

"I am quite as anxious as you," she replied; but the real answer was with her eyes, which reflected the thought beneath my words--that I should be all eagerness till the time came for us to meet again.

CHAPTER XXVI

FLIGHT

As soon as Minna had left me the major brought the officer to apologize for the conduct which had so exasperated me on my arrival. The man had of course exceeded his instructions, and although the explanation did not by any means make amends for what I had endured, it was tendered in good faith, and I accepted it. I was in no mood to harbor anger against any one. What I most wished now was to be alone to recall the scene with Minna on the road, the ineffable sweetness of her voice, the soft tenderness of her looks, and the magic thrill of her touch.