A Noble Name Part 10

"'There's not much to explain,' he said, crossly. 'Red Jakob, my wife's brother, is a good-for-nothing fellow, a brawler and a poacher, whom our old master--Jakob used to be a servant at the castle--dismissed from his service. But he is always coming back here from Brunswick, where he had work in a saw-mill.

Early last Sunday I caught him in the very act of aiming at a fine doe. I shouted to him. He made a leap over the rocks to get off; fell, his gun went off, and a bullet pierced his arm.

What was I to do? I had to get him up here; but if the master should hear of it the fellow would be sent to jail, and I never could outlive the disgrace.'

"The man's blunt manner pleased me.

"'Grandpapa certainly shall not hear of it from me, forester,'

I said, and offered him my hand. He looked at me in surprise, reddened, and took my hand, grasping it so tightly that I could hardly help crying out. 'Thanks, Fraulein,' he said, simply, and, as Johann Leopold now made his appearance with his horse, we left the lodge.

"While the forester helped me mount my horse, Johann Leopold addressed him again in an arrogant tone: 'Remember, Kruger, that I positively forbid the man to be moved. Until he is recovered he stays here as my patient. Everything that he needs is to be charged to me.'

"The forester's wife broke out into protestations of grat.i.tude, her husband muttered some unintelligible words, and we rode off.

"When Johann Leopold learned my errand, he offered to guide me by a road over the mountain to the clearing, and we agreed to tell grandpapa that we had met, but to say nothing further.

Johann Leopold told me that 'Red Jakob' had been his most cherished playmate when they were boys. No one could approach him in the knowledge of the woods and fields. He knew every plant, every stone, and every animal of the country; the habits of the game, the holes of the foxes, and the nests of the birds.

"'He was a born Nimrod,' he added, 'and would have made a far better lord of Donninghausen than I shall ever be; but in the sphere of life to which he belongs his tastes and talents are a stumbling block to him.'

"I asked him whether he did not think that a place could be found in the world for every kind of talent. He shook his head.

'There may be a place,' he replied, 'but occupied by some one who does not feel himself authorized to resign it. Take me for an example. No one knows better than I how unfit I am to be the heir of Donninghausen. My capabilities and my inclination lead me to the study, or to the bedside of the sick. Nevertheless I cannot decide to resign my position, and when an inferior opposes me, as the forester did awhile ago, my hot blood, or my acquired arrogance, a.s.serts the mastery, and I should like to put the fellow in irons. And yet I am theoretically convinced of the equal rights of mankind.'

"This conversation gave me food for reflection. I wonder whether Johann Leopold acquiesces in a marriage with Magelone, from an idea of the requirements of his rank, or whether, under apparent indifference, he does not really feel an interest in the enchanting siren. As I have been mistaken with respect to his outward life, I may also be in appreciation of his mind and heart. For example, during our ride I learned that instead of leading the owlish existence which Magelone ascribes to him, he is the physician of the poor for miles around the country, providing them himself with all the needed medicaments. My grandfather must know nothing of this; he would call it all quackery, and would consider it an insult offered to worthy old Dr. Francke, who has been the physician at Donninghausen for the last thirty years.

"As for myself, I get on very well with grandpapa. I was rather uncertain as to how he would receive the intelligence that I had sent off Martin and undertaken the forest ride alone, but he was pleased and praised me. 'That's right, child; never delay where help is needed, is my maxim.' Nevertheless, he is usually, as he says himself, apt to be cross. To be tied to his room and to his arm-chair by gout at Christmas-time, when all the family a.s.semble here, is a hard trial for an impatient temperament. Aunt Thekla says we must look for stormy times."

"December 23.

"I have not been able to write for the last few days, but this letter must go to-day, that you may have it for a Christmas-greeting. Day before yesterday the cousins arrived with husbands and belongings,--Hildegard, with two children; Hedwig, with three, beside nurses and lady's-maids. Both mothers look like Aunt Thekla,--tall, slender, fair, and rather stately. They have rosy cheeks, abundant hair, and bright light-blue eyes, are vain of their looks, of their husbands and children, of their name and social position, and mutually endeavour to outshine each other in the splendour of their attire. With Magelone they wage a very amusing petty warfare.

Their husbands, twin-brothers, are strikingly alike,--fair and stately like their wives, but better-natured, gayer, more at their ease. Eduard, Hedwig's husband, distinguished himself in the Schleswig-Holstein war, whence come his stiffened arm and several orders,--a _creve-coeur_, as Magelone maintains, for Hildegard, whose Karl has only won peaceful laurels as an orator at agricultural meetings. To-morrow afternoon the brothers of the sisters are coming. The festival takes place in the evening.

"Grandpapa is unfortunately still obliged to be pushed from one room to another in his wheeled chair. His great-grand-children must be with him as much as possible, and when the three boys, respectively six, five, and four years old,--the little girls are still in arms,--are romping about the s.p.a.cious drawing-room, his face clears up. His grand-daughters do not seem very near to him, and it must pain him at these family gatherings that he has no children to link him with the younger generation.

"I had one distressing moment with him yesterday. Before the second breakfast he sends off the post-boy. Every inmate of the household brings or sends the letters, which grandpapa himself locks into the bag. I had a Christmas-gift to send to Lisbeth, and took the package to his room myself. How his eyes flashed at me as he read the address!

"'A Christmas-gift for my little sister,' I replied to their mute inquiry.

"'You have no sister, and no friendly correspondence with those people shall be carried on from my house!' grandpapa fairly roared. This was the voice of which Magelone had told me. But I took courage, and said, in a trembling voice indeed, and without looking up, 'Dear grandfather, I might have sent my package secretly----'

"He stared at me, and his brow cleared. 'Do you love the child?' he asked.

"'Yes, grandpapa!' I cried; 'and if you could see the dear little creature----'

"'Enough, enough!' he interrupted me; and, laying the package aside, he added, 'It shall go, Johanna, and you have done well.'

"Since then he has been kinder than ever to me, perhaps on account of my cousins, who tried to treat me coldly. The old man has so emphatic a way of saying 'My grand-daughter Johanna,' that they changed their tactics, and are now almost amiable to me. Nevertheless, I like Donninghausen better without them, and am looking forward with pleasure to our quiet days when they shall have departed."

CHAPTER VIII.

CHRISTMAS AT DoNNINGHAUSEN.

Christmas-eve had arrived. As was the custom, the festival for old and young at Donninghausen took place in the late afternoon, before the princ.i.p.al meal of the day, and even with Johanna's help Aunt Thekla had much ado to be ready with the arrangement of the presents at the appointed time. The gifts for the members of the family were laid out on long tables to the right and left of the brilliantly-decorated fir-tree in the centre of the ball-room, while smaller Christmas-trees sparkled and shone upon tables ranged against the wall, where were the presents for the servants and the castle pensioners. When the bells of the village rang in the Holy Christmas-tide, Aunt Thekla's silver bell was also rung, the doors into the corridors were opened, and as the flood of light streamed out upon the expectant group outside, there arose, sung by old and young, the strains of the Freiherr's favorite hymn,--

"He comes, He comes, the Holy One, Filled with His might divine."

Involuntarily, Johanna, standing beside Aunt Thekla beneath the Christmas-tree, folded her hands: memories of vanished years crowded upon her heart; but, as she turned aside to wipe away her starting tears, her look encountered her cousin Otto's eyes fixed upon her. He had arrived in the course of the afternoon. She had not seen him before, and he now nodded to her by way of greeting. She courtesied, and was aware of the same mingled sensation of timidity and confidence that had possessed her at their first interview.

Beside Otto stood Magelone, more elfin-like than ever, in a long, closely-fitting pale-green silk, with her sweet smile and strangely-gleaming eyes.

"Is it Otto's presence that makes her thus brilliantly beautiful? It is strange that grandpapa has never destined these two for each other,"

thought Johanna.

The hymn was ended, the Freiherr was wheeled into the room, the rest crowded in after him, and soon the delight of the children made itself heard, and the poor stammered their grateful acknowledgments, while Hildegard and Hedwig cast inquisitive, unfriendly glances away from their own rich gifts towards a morocco case which the Freiherr handed to Johanna.

"Open it, child!" he said. She obeyed. A rococo _parure_ of rubies and diamonds lay gleaming upon the yellowish-white satin inside the case.

"Your grandmother's bridal jewels, your mother's inheritance," said the Freiherr.

The sisters exchanged looks of indignation. Johanna kissed her grandfather's hand.

"I thank you; the double memory makes it very precious," she said, and closed the case. As she did so, Otto approached her.

"At last, Fraulein Johanna," he said, and held out his hand. "How glad I am to see you again!"

"Fraulein!" cried the Freiherr. "Boy, what do you mean? You should call the daughter of your father's sister 'Johanna.'"

"Most gladly if I may. Will you allow it, dear Johanna?" said Otto, bestowing upon her a cousinly kiss. Blushing, she released herself from him, as he looked into her eyes with a glance of momentary triumph. "To our friendship," he said, gravely, and then the children came rushing up and separated them.

A telegram was handed to the Freiherr; he read it with a lowering brow.

"How unfortunate!" he cried. "Waldemar tells me that important business will not allow of his being with us before New Year's day. This Christmas it vexes me particularly."

"I am delighted," Magelone whispered to Johanna. "It is a respite, at least for me. The betrothal of the future head of the family cannot possibly be announced unless all its august members are present."

Johanna looked at her and shook her head. "That betrothal will never take place," she said; "Otto will not allow it."

"Otto! What do you mean?" asked Magelone. "You have hardly seen us together."

"Long enough to see how he adores you."

"Mere gallantry, child; nothing more," said Magelone. "Remember, pray, he has debts, I have nothing, and we are sensible people."

And she fluttered away to her presents, where the next instant Otto joined her. "May I take you in to dinner?" he asked.

"That is at present Johann Leopold's privilege, or task. As which do you think he regards it?"

"Can you ask?" said Otto. "He is pursuing you with the glare of a veritable Oth.e.l.lo!"