Under a Charm Volume I Part 9

"Really? Well, it is the only thing I have of my mother about me."

"Yes, it is true; you are not in the least like her," said Wanda, candidly, "and Leo is her very image!"

"Leo!" repeated Waldemar, with a singular intonation. "Leo, indeed!

That is a very different matter."

Wanda laughed. "Why? Has the younger brother any advantage over the elder in this respect?"

"Why not? He has the advantage of his mother's love. I should think that was enough."

"Waldemar, how can you say so!" put in the young Countess.

"Is the idea new to you?" he said, looking up with a frown. "I should have thought any third person must see how I stand with my mother. She forces herself to be friendly to me--oh yes!--and it must cost her trouble enough at times; but she can't overcome her secret dislike any more than I can mine--so we have nothing to reproach one another with."

Wanda was silent, embarra.s.sed, and greatly surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. Waldemar did not appear to notice this; he went on in a hard voice--

"The Princess Baratowska is, and always will be, a stranger to me. I do not belong to her or to her son. I feel that every time we meet. You have no idea, Wanda, what it costs me to cross that threshold continually, to be constantly with them. It is a positive torture I impose on myself, and I should never have thought I could bear it so patiently."

"But what do you do it for?" asked Wanda, imprudently. "n.o.body forces you to come."

He looked at her, and the answer lay in his eyes--shone in them so distinctly that the young girl blushed to her very forehead. That ardent, reproachful gaze spoke all too plainly.

"You do my aunt injustice," she said, speaking quickly, as if to hide her embarra.s.sment. "She must, and does, love her own son."

"Oh, no doubt!" Waldemar's bitterness had now grown quite beyond his control. "I am persuaded that she loves Leo very much, though she is so severe with him; but why should she love me, or I her? I was hardly a year old when I lost father and mother at one stroke. I was torn from my home to be brought up among strangers. When, later on, I came to reflect, to ask questions, I learned that my parents' marriage had been an unhappy one--a misfortune for both of them--and that they had separated in bitter hatred; and I learned, too, how this hatred had survived the grave, and how it exerted an influence on my own life.

They told me that my mother had been to blame for all; and yet I heard many an allusion to my father, many an expression used with regard to him, which disturbed my judgment of him also. Where other children are taught to love and respect, suspicion and distrust were instilled into me--and now I cannot get free from them. My uncle has been good to me; he is fond of me in his way, but he could not offer me anything beyond the life he leads himself. You know pretty well what that is--I think every one in my mother's house is well posted up on that subject--and yet, Wanda, you expect me to have some feeling for the poetical!"

He spoke almost resentfully, and yet there was a sort of low, regretful sadness in his words. Wanda looked up at her companion with great astonished eyes. She could hardly recognise him to-day. It was the first time she had ever had any serious conversation with him, the first time he had departed from his shy monosyllabic reserve. The peculiarly cold relations between the mother and son had not escaped her; but she had not believed the latter to be in any way affected by the existing estrangement. He had never alluded to the situation by a word; and now, all at once, he showed himself to be most keenly alive to, and deeply wounded by it. Now, in this hour, there dawned on the girl's mind some dim notion of what Waldemar's youth had been--how empty, lonely, and desolate, and how friendless and neglected the young heir whose riches she had so often heard extolled.

"You wanted to see the sunset," said Waldemar, suddenly changing the subject and speaking in quite a different tone, as he rose and came to her side. "I think we are having a rare one to-day."

And truly the clouds which bordered the horizon were suffused with a crimson glow, and the sun, still radiantly clear, was sinking lower and lower towards the sea, which flashed into a sudden glory at its farewell greeting. A flood of light streamed over its surface, spreading ever wider and wider--only over the spot where Vineta lay deep down at the bottom of the sea, the waves kept their sombre purple, while in their furrows gleamed bright streaks as of liquid gold, and above them thousands of glittering sparks danced and floated.

It must be owned that in the old legends there is a something which lifts them out of the domain of superst.i.tion, and even to a denizen of the modern world an hour may come when the old enchanting glamour makes itself felt, quickening the phantasies of the past into actual living realities. Truly, these legends sprang from the hearts of men; and their eternal problems, like their eternal truths, still preserve a strong hold on the human breast. Not to every one, indeed, does the fairy world open its gates, so closely guarded in these our days; but the two now seated on the Beech Holm must have belonged to the elect few, for they distinctly felt the charm which drew them gently but irresistibly within the magic circle, and neither of them had the courage, or the will, forcibly to break the spell.

Over their heads the wind rustled in the branches, louder still ran the murmur and plash of the sea at their feet. Wave upon wave came rolling up, rearing their white foam-crests aloft for an instant, then crashing over on to the sh.o.r.e. It was the old mighty ocean melody, the song of breeze and billow combined, which in its everlasting freshness enthrals every listener's heart. It sings now of dreamy, sunshiny calm, anon of raging storms with their terror and desolation, of restless, endless, surging life--each succeeding wave bringing a new tone of its own, each breath of wind echoing a responsive chord.

Waldemar and his young companion must have well understood this language, for they listened to it in breathless silence; and as they so sat and hearkened, another sound stole on their ears. Up from the very depths of the ocean came the faint chiming of bells, and about their hearts a feeling gathered as of pain and longing, mingled with a dim far-off perception of infinite bliss. From the purple waves yonder rose a shining vision. It floated on the waters, away into the golden glory, and there stood bright and definite, a world of countless, unknown treasures, a picture framed in a magic halo--the old fairy city of Vineta!

The burning edge of the great glowing disc now touched, as it were, the sea beneath it, and sinking ever deeper and deeper, disappeared at last below the horizon. One more flaming, fiery blaze--then the light went out, and the deep red hue still staining the water paled and gradually died away.

Wanda drew a long breath, and pa.s.sed her hand across her brow.

"The sun is down," she said in a low voice; "we must be thinking of going back."

"Of going back?" repeated Waldemar, as in a dream. "Already?"

The girl rose quickly, as though to escape from some weight of uneasiness. "The daylight will soon be gone now, and we must get back to C---- before it grows dusk, or my aunt will never forgive me for coming without her leave."

"_I_ will set that right with my mother," said Waldemar, and he too seemed to speak the indifferent words with an effort; "but if you wish to start ..."

"I do wish it, please."

The young man turned to go towards the boat, but all at once he stopped.

"You will be going away soon now, Wanda. In a few days, will you not?"

The question was put in a strangely agitated tone, and the young Countess's voice too had lost its natural ring, as she answered--

"I must go to my father now; he has done without me so long."

"My mother and Leo are going to Wilicza." Waldemar hesitated between the words, as though something caught his breath. "There is some talk of my joining them. May I?"

"Why do you ask me?" said Wanda, with an embarra.s.sment very unusual to her. "It depends entirely upon yourself whether you visit your own property or not."

The young man did not heed the remark. He bent lower over her. His voice faltered, as it seemed, with deep pa.s.sionate anxiety.

"But I do ask you, Wanda--you alone! May I come to Wilicza?"

"Yes," fell almost involuntarily from Wanda's lips; but in the same moment she started back, frightened at what she had done, for Waldemar seized her hand impetuously, and held it fast, as though it were his for ever and ever. The young Countess felt how he interpreted her 'yes,' and grew confused and troubled. A thrill of sudden alarm shot through her. Waldemar noticed that she drew back.

"Have I been too rough again?" he asked, in a low voice. "You must not be angry with me, Wanda--not to-day. It was only the idea of your going away that I could not bear. Now I know that I may see you again--now I will wait patiently till we are at Wilicza."

She made no reply, and they both went silently down to the boat.

Waldemar put up the sail, and settled himself to the oars. With a few powerful strokes he sent the little craft far out to sea. A faint, rosy glimmer still lingered on the waves as the boat glided through them.

Neither of the young people spoke during the journey. There was no sound, save the monotonous ripple of the water; the last transient glow died out of the sky, and the early shades of twilight fell over the Beech Holm, as it receded farther and farther into the distance. The sunset dream was over; but that old legend, which had woven its threads, tells us that he who has once looked on the lost Vineta, has once heard the sound of her bells, is pursued all his life by a longing which leaves him no rest until the enchanted city rises before him once more--or draws him down below into the depths.

CHAPTER VIII.

In Herr Witold's opinion, the diplomatic mission for which he had selected Dr. Fabian would be comparatively easy of performance; the chief difficulty lay in preparing the way for it. In order to gain accurate information as to 'what was really going on in C----,' the Doctor must, naturally, have access to the Princess Baratowska's house, and this could only be obtained through Waldemar. Witold racked his brains to think how he could put the matter before his adopted son, so as not to be met at the outset by a decided refusal. Chance unexpectedly befriended him. On Waldemar's last visit, the Princess had expressed a wish to make the acquaintance of her son's tutor. The young man spoke of it on his return, and the Squire caught eagerly at the welcome opportunity. For once in his life he was able to approve of a wish of the Princess Hedwiga's as rational. He held the Doctor inexorably to his word, and the latter, who had all along hoped that the scheme would fall through, frustrated by his pupil's obstinacy, was obliged, two days later, to set out for C---- in Waldemar's company, in order to undergo the desired presentation.

Waldemar was in the saddle as usual. He was pa.s.sionately fond of riding, and detested a drive along the sandy or stony roads, over which he could gallop so swiftly. It did not occur to him to take a seat in the carriage to-day out of courtesy to his tutor. Dr. Fabian was accustomed to such marks of disrespect, and, shy and yielding by nature, he had not the courage to make a firm stand against his pupil's cavalier treatment of him, or, on its account, to resign his post. He was without pecuniary resources of his own; a situation meant for him the means of earning a livelihood. The life at Altenhof suited him but ill; still, on the whole, he contrived to take little part in it. He only appeared at table, and again for an hour in the evening, to keep the Squire company. His pupil made but small claim on his time.

Waldemar was always glad when the hours for study were over, and his master was still more so. All the rest of the day was at the latter's own disposal, and he could pursue his hobby, his old Germanic researches, undisturbed. To these beloved studies Herr Witold owed it that the present preceptor of his adopted son did not follow the example of his six predecessors, and decamp from the place; for the Doctor said to himself with justice that, in another situation where the boys under his charge would require constant supervision, it would be all over with his archaeology. It needed, indeed, a patient character like Fabian's to hold out under such trying circ.u.mstances.

To-day again he gave proof of his forbearance, bearing Waldemar's desertion in silence, when that young gentleman, giving spurs to his horse, actually rode on before, and only pulled rein to wait for him at the entrance to C----, which they reached about noon.

On their arrival they found only Countess Wanda in the drawing-room, and Dr. Fabian went through the first ordeal of introduction with much embarra.s.sment, it is true, but still with a tolerable presence.

Unfortunately, his visible and somewhat comic uneasiness at once incited the young Countess to bring her talent for mischief to bear on him.

"So, Doctor, you are my Cousin Waldemar's tutor?" she began. "I offer you my sincere condolences, and pity you with all my heart."

Fabian looked up startled, and then glanced with alarm at his pupil, who, however, seemed not to have heard the remark--his face did not betray a trace of anger or indignation.

"Why so, Countess?" stammered the Doctor.