Fickle Fortune Part 32

The low hedge which bordered the road was broken through, torn down; the young firs on the hill-side were bent and broken as though a hurricane had pa.s.sed over them, and in the depths below lay a dark, inert ma.s.s, sledge and horses, all together, borne down to a common destruction, dashed to pieces in that dizzy, dreadful fall.

At this sight Oswald forgot his caution. Reckless of the imminent peril to himself, he spurred his horse down the road at full speed.

When he reached the valley below, he sprang from the saddle, and at once plunged into the ravine.

There he saw the shattered sledge, the horses lying, one beneath, one above--and at a little distance from these--Edmund, stretched motionless upon the ground. He had been flung from his seat in the fall--this and the snow, which here in the valley had drifted thick and deep, had preserved him from being absolutely mangled and mutilated; but the rocky ground had nevertheless wrought cruel injury, as was abundantly proved by the blood which streamed from a scalp-wound, reddening the white snow in a great circle about his head.

Oswald threw himself on his knees by his cousin's side, and strove to stanch the blood, to recall the unconscious man to life. At first, all his efforts were in vain, but after long minutes of weary watching and agonized suspense, Edmund opened his eyes. Their dull veiled look seemed, however, to lack all recognition. Slowly only, and by degrees, at the sound of Oswald's voice, as he put his anxious questions, did full consciousness return to the sufferer.

'Oswald,' he said, very softly, and his tone was the old loving tone he had ever been wont to use towards the friend of his youth. All the bitterness, the wild frenzied agitation of the last few hours, had died out from those pain-stricken but calm features.

'Edmund, why had you not confidence in me?' burst forth Oswald. 'Why have I only just heard of your trouble--of the trouble which drove you to this? I have ridden after you in all mad haste, but I come too late, too late perhaps by a very few minutes.'

Edmund's half-dimmed eyes gained life and fire again as he turned them towards the speaker.

'You know?'

'All!'

'Then you understand all,' said Edmund faintly. 'To have to lie to you, not to be able to meet your eye, that was the hardest trial I have had to bear. Now it is past. Today, this very day, you will be Master of Ettersberg.'

'At the cost of your life!' cried Oswald, in despair. 'I have known the secret long. That fatal picture had pa.s.sed through my hands before you saw it. I kept it from you almost by force, for I knew that the sight of it would kill you. And it has been all in vain--the whole sacrifice has been in vain! One frank, outspoken word between us, this morning, and everything might have been settled and made smooth.'

Edmund replied with a sorrowful negative gesture.

'No, Oswald; that could never have been. I could not have borne the perpetual lie of such a life. I have tried for weeks, for months. You do not know what I have endured since the fearful hour of that discovery. Now all is well. You will enter upon your own, and my mother's name will remain unstained. It was the only way, the one solution!'

Oswald held the dying man in his arms. He saw that the time for help was past. It was impossible to stanch the blood, impossible to stay the fleeting life. He could but stoop to catch the last words from the lips which were about to close for ever.

'My mother--tell her. I _could_ not have borne it. Farewell!'

Edmund's voice died away. His beautiful dark eyes grew dim with the shadow of Death; but a few minutes more, and Oswald was kneeling on the snow-clad earth by a dead man's side. He pressed his lips on the cold, calm brow, and murmured to now unheeding ears the despairing cry of his heart:

'My G.o.d! my G.o.d! Must this be the end? Was there no other way--no other way?'

CHAPTER XIV.

Twice the swallows had come and gone since the grave had closed on Edmund von Ettersberg. Now for the third time they arrived, bearing Spring upon their pinions; and as, after all the icy frost and snow of winter, the earth blossomed forth in newborn splendour, so the dark shadow of that grave, watered by many tears, was lightened, and from it there emerged a fair vision of human hope and happiness.

The death of young Count Ettersberg had caused the greatest consternation, and awakened general sympathy in the neighbourhood.

This universal mourning was due as much to Edmund's personal characteristics, which had endeared him to all, as to the frightful circ.u.mstances of his death. So young, so beautiful, rich and happy--his wedding-day so near! And for a mere mad frolic's sake, for a rash, senseless wager, to perish miserably, to be torn from his mother and his betrothed, without even seeing them or hearing their last farewell. It was a terrible fate!

How bright, how exuberantly gay the young Count had been the very morning on which the catastrophe befell! The darker, more secret sequence of events, none suspected. Edmund had gained his end. His mother remained spotless as before, and the rightful heir entered into possession of his own.

Many changes had been effected on the Ettersberg estates during the past two years. The present owner, Count Oswald, who on his cousin's death had succeeded to the t.i.tle and the property took a serious view of the duties of his new position. Rarely indeed comes such a change in the life of a man as had come to him--a change so precipitate, so unexpected. Oswald, who had been bred in dependence and subordination, who, even when he shook off the fetters of that dependence, went forth to meet a life of care, of grave unflagging work, suddenly found himself transformed into the head of the house, the owner of wealthy family estates. His legal career was at an end before it had fairly begun. There was no failure of grat.i.tude towards the friend in the great city who, in his need, had given him fatherly protection and a.s.sistance. Their relations continued excellent and affectionate as before; but, of course, a return to that sphere, to the life previously planned out for him, was not now to be thought of.

Other and greater tasks devolved upon Oswald, and he gave himself up to them with all the thoroughness and energy pertaining to his character. His strong hand grasped the helm in time to rescue the long-neglected estates from the ruin which seemed imminent. Gradually but surely he raised the value of the property until it reached its former zenith.

With but few exceptions, the reigning officials were superseded, and the system of administration underwent a complete change, while the large sums of money which in the old days had been called in to support the castle household on a lordly scale were now devoted to the restoration and improvement of the estates.

The new Master of Ettersberg led a solitary and retired life, and seemed at present in no way minded to select a companion or bring home a bride. This circ.u.mstance caused some wonderment in the neighbouring circles.

It was freely said that the Count, now in his nine-and-twentieth year, might think of marrying, ought to think of it, seeing that he was the last and only scion of the Ettersberg race. Plans were laid, and efforts were not spared to secure so brilliant a _parti_, but hitherto without avail.

Similar schemes and expectations were formed with regard to Brunneck.

The hand of the young heiress was again disengaged, though at first a certain delicacy of feeling forbade would-be suitors to take advantage of the fact. Genuine and universal as had been the sympathy felt for Hedwig, it was considered inadmissible that this girl of eighteen should pa.s.s her life in sorrowing for the lover who had been taken from her; and many pretensions and desires, which that engagement had blighted, came to the front again.

They were, however, again doomed to disappointment, for Hedwig, by a decided step, withdrew herself from all possible overtures.

Before the period of mourning was over, she left Brunneck to accompany Edmund's mother on a visit to Italy. The Countess's health had quite given way beneath the shock of her son's death, and in spite of the most skilled advice, her malady made such serious progress that the doctors in consultation gave no hope save in a lengthened stay in the South.

It was thought an act of self-sacrifice on Fraulein Rustow's part to leave her home, and even her father, that she might accompany the invalid--the good neighbours who thus judged being quite ignorant of the fact that Hedwig was longing to escape, to place the barrier of distance between herself and hopes which seemed to her an offence against the dead.

The two ladies had been absent almost a year and a half. In vain had the Councillor remonstrated and made impatient supplication for his daughter's return; his prayers found no favourable hearing. Hedwig had always given as a pretext the Countess's continued illness, declaring that she neither could nor would leave her in so piteous a condition.

But now, at length, the travellers were at home once more. Rustow, who had gone some stages on the road to meet them, brought his daughter straight back to Brunneck, whilst the Countess proceeded to Schonfeld, where, since Edmund's death, she had taken up her residence.

On the second day after the ladies' return, the Councillor was sitting as usual with his cousin in the veranda-parlour. He was full of delight at having his daughter with him again, and never weary of looking at her after their long separation. He declared that she had grown much more lovely, more sensible, more charming in every way, and the expression of his fatherly pride culminated in a solemn announcement that never again would he part with his darling as long as he lived.

For once his cousin actually agreed with him, admitting the improvement visible in Hedwig; but at these last words she shook her head and replied, with a certain meaning emphasis:

'You should not speak so decidedly, Erich. Who knows how long you will enjoy exclusive possession of Hedwig! That may be disputed you even here at Brunneck.'

'I shall not allow it,' interrupted Rustow. 'I have no doubt that the Countess would like to have her over at Schonfeld for weeks at a stretch, but she will not have her way in this. I have been deprived of my child's society long enough, and mean to take a stand on my rights at last.'

'Count Ettersberg was at the station, I suppose, when you arrived with the travellers the day before yesterday?' said the lady.

'Certainly. It was very considerate, very proper of him to come himself to receive his aunt and take her over to Schonfeld. He was glad, too, to see Hedwig, and say a word of welcome to her on her return; but this, of course, was secondary.'

'Of course, quite secondary!' murmured Aunt Lina softly, but with an ironical twitch of the lips.

'The Count was not on particularly good terms with his aunt in the old days,' said Rustow, turning to his cousin; 'but ever since her great misfortune he has shown her much kindness and attention. Indeed, I see a considerable alteration in that young man. He can even be pleasant and affable in his manners now, and as concerns his management of the Ettersberg property----'

'Yes, we are aware that he is an agricultural genius,' put in Aunt Lina. 'You discovered his talents in that line years ago, you know, when no one guessed that he was the future owner and Master of Ettersberg.'

'It would have been an unpardonable mistake if Fate had ordained that that man should be a lawyer,' said the Councillor solemnly. 'It always gratifies me when I remember what a clearance he made directly the reins fell into his hands, how quickly he put a stop to the old routine of reckless waste and mismanagement. He struck hard and struck home. In less than three months all the old worthless lumber had been thrown out. The parasites, which for years had clung to the good tree, sapping its strength, were destroyed. And how the man set to work when it came to ordering a new system! My spirit of enterprise is not small, but I believe I must yield the palm to him. I never should have imagined that in so short a time the estates could have been so raised in value. I ought to feel some annoyance, for hitherto Brunneck has pa.s.sed for the model establishment of this part of the country, and now I suppose Ettersberg will be disputing its claim to the first rank.'

'And to a good many other things, I fancy. But you will take it all very patiently and quietly, Erich, for Count Oswald has always been a declared favourite of yours.'

'So he has, but I admit one great fault in him.

He will not marry. The whole neighbourhood is full of it. I shall take him to task seriously on the subject.'

'Do nothing of the sort,' said Aunt Lina. 'Interference is quite unnecessary, especially from you.'

Rustow did not catch the hidden meaning of her words. He took them as expressing distrust in his skill and diplomacy, and was much offended in consequence.