"Be easy," said Johann Leopold. "I promise you to tell my grandfather nothing that need not be told. One question more. What do you know of Johanna?"

"She is with her step-mother. The woman has married again,--the circus-rider Batti, and poor Johanna has joined his troupe."

It was true, then! Johann Leopold had put no faith in the newspaper notice which Red Jakob had given him, but he now reflected that this was the natural course of things. The artist-blood of her father, and her step-mother's unfortunate second marriage, had, when she had broken with Donninghausen, forced Johanna into the path she had taken. Perhaps, with her intensity of nature, she had meant to erect an insuperable barrier between the past and the present. She had done so. This barrier was as insurmountable in Johann Leopold's estimation as in the eyes of the world. Every drop of blood in his body was in revolt against the rider in Carlo Batti's troupe. And Aunt Thekla's 'Johanna can never live among us again' was the expression of his own conviction.

That was past and done with; but then----? Why could not his relations with Magelone remain what they had been? And why, if he must renounce her, could he not at least retain her image in stainless beauty? Her reception of him to-day, after what had occurred between Otto and herself, was a double treachery. Was she, perhaps, endeavouring from fear of her grandfather, from remorse--from a sense of duty--to conquer her heart? This must not be. It was absolutely necessary that he should resign all illusions; he must at once and forever resist temptation, fair though it was to see.

He looked up with a sigh. Magelone was just coming along the avenue, her airy figure, her light curls flooded with the golden evening glow. She was, in Johann Leopold's eyes, the very ideal of all beauty and grace.

She lightly hurried up the terrace steps, and in another moment had thrown about Johann Leopold's shoulders a fragrant wreath of vines and flowers. "There! you shall not escape all reception festivities," she said, archly. "How will you defend yourself? Flowery chains should not be torn asunder."

"Why not? Rather a torn wreath than a withered one," he answered, bitterly, as he tossed the garland aside.

"Ugh! what a tone, and what a face!" cried Magelone. "They would do for a farewell. But when one returns, and is received as cordially as you have been----" She paused suddenly, sat down beside Aunt Thekla, and looked abroad into the park.

"A return is often sadder than a departure," said Johann Leopold. "I have found much change here, and am myself more changed than all, and this you ought to know----Stay, Aunt Thekla!" he begged, as the old lady arose. "You must hear what I have to say to Magelone."

For a moment he paused, fearful of losing his self-control, then continued, with apparent calm: "It is with regard, my dear Magelone, to our grandfather's desire for our marriage. You have tried hard to reconcile yourself to the thought of it, and I--although I saw how difficult this was for you--I persuaded myself for a while that you might succeed. This is over! When I went away I meant to be magnanimous in bestowing upon you a partial freedom; it could only be partial, since you knew me still bound. But now I relieve you of this last fetter; you owe me no further consideration. We are both entirely free."

His voice had grown clear and firm. As he said the last words he arose.

"Good-night," he added, offering his hand to his aunt and to Magelone.

"You will have to excuse me. I am fatigued by my journey."

Magelone gave him her finger-tips without looking at him, but he possessed himself of her hand. "You know, do you not, that I am your friend?" he asked. "If I can ever testify this to you by deed, apply to me. Will you promise me this?"

"Certainly. I know well how trustworthy you are!" she cried, derisively, as she withdrew her hand and looked up to him with a strange flickering light in her eyes. "Moreover, you can do something for me immediately. I want to go away! Beg grandpapa to let me go----"

"My child, what are you thinking of?" cried Aunt Thekla. And Johann Leopold asked,--

"Do you wish to go on my account?"

She tossed her head, and her cheek flushed. "On your account? What an idea! Why, we are the very best of friends!" she said, still more derisively than before. "No; it is the old Donninghausen tedium that drives me away. Aunt Thekla knows how I have borne it for years."

"But, my child, you were away all last winter!" her aunt remonstrated.

"In Hedwig's and Hildegard's nurseries. Am I to regard that as a delight?" exclaimed Magelone. "I should like for once to have a little pleasure. I want to go to Vienna, to the Walburgs'; and from them, if I can find a good escort, I want to go to St. Petersburg, to Waldemar and his wife. They have invited me so often."

"Otto's brother. He is probably to be won over to approve their marriage," was Johann Leopold's surmise, as he replied, "I will do what I can, dear Magelone. But if, in spite of all I can do, our grandfather still says no,--you know he does not like to have women travel without urgent reasons,--you will find here at hand what you look for in St.

Petersburg."

He meant, an advocate of the desire of her heart. She did not understand him. "What I am looking for is deliverance from this place!" she cried, with burning cheeks. "If grandpapa says no, I shall go without his permission. I have castigated myself sufficiently out of regard for the family." She gathered up her long white dress, and hurried past Johann Leopold down into the garden.

Aunt Thekla looked beseechingly at her nephew. "Do not be angry with her; you have each misunderstood the other," she began. But he interrupted her: "I am not angry, and I have not misunderstood her. On the contrary, I know what she wishes and needs, and I mean, so far as I can, to help her and Otto. Pray tell her this in your kind, gentle way.

You see I am too awkward to do so."

With these words he kissed her hand, and went into the house.

The old lady looked after him in painful perplexity. At first it seemed to her advisable to explain to him his error. But what could she say to him? Only that Magelone had been determined to marry him. If he should wish to know more, if he should ask, 'does she love me?' what could she reply? And even if he did not ask this, if he deceived himself for the time, must he not sooner or later--too late, perhaps--discover that she did not love him? And would she, who for a fleeting fancy had not hesitated to destroy Johanna's happiness, could she sacredly guard Johann Leopold's happiness and honour?

"If I only knew what was right!" sighed Aunt Thekla. And it was only after long reflection that she found consolation in the conclusion that if it was the purpose of the Almighty that Johann Leopold and Magelone should be united, they would be so in spite of all misunderstandings, and without any help from an old woman.

While she was reflecting thus, Johann Leopold was standing at the open window of his room, and as he looked abroad over the dark ma.s.ses of foliage of the park, and up to the shining stars whose rising and setting he had so often watched from this very window, there came over him for the first time that mighty feeling of home which at once absorbs and expands all individuality. His grandfather was suddenly more comprehensible to him than ever before, and the task to which the old man had devoted himself for half a century--the weal and welfare of Donninghausen--appeared to him in a new light. For years Johann Leopold had longed for loftier aims and a wider sphere of activity. Debarred from much by his state of health, he had disdained what was within his reach. This should be so no longer! He would show his grandfather that he was the heir not only of his estates, but of his views and intentions.

A knock at the door aroused him from his revery, and upon his 'Come in,'

Otto entered the room.

"Is it you?" Johann Leopold exclaimed, as he went to meet his late visitor, and he offered him his hand with some hesitation. Otto scarcely touched the tips of his fingers.

"Pardon my taking you by surprise at this unseasonable hour," he said, as he threw his hat and gloves upon the table and himself into a chair.

"When our grandfather's message arrived I sent word that I was not at home; for"--and he pushed back the damp curls from his forehead and turned upon Johann Leopold a face that looked strangely pale and haggard in the lamp-light--"I could not possibly sit opposite you at table and pull an amiable face when----I am in a sc.r.a.pe again, and if you do not help me----But what good would it do? Better a terrible end than terror without end!"

"Fudge! Speak intelligibly!" Johann Leopold interposed, taking a seat opposite Otto. And when the latter only stared into s.p.a.ce in silence, he added, "You have been gambling?"

"Yes, I have been gambling," the other replied, lifting his head and gazing at his cousin with a dark glow in his eyes. "Drag along, as I do, from morning until night, through days that bring you nothing but one tedious occupation after another, and with nothing to look forward to except the same dull round in the same d--d tread-mill, for as long, at least, as your fate depends upon the whims of a narrow-minded, stubborn old man----"

"Otto! you forget yourself!" Johann Leopold interrupted him, sternly.

"You choose the time ill for accusing others. You need help. You shall have it; but upon condition----"

"That I promise never to touch a card again!" Otto exclaimed, with an ugly laugh. "Of course I'll promise. But if the desire attacks me----"

He broke off with a shrug.

"When the desire attacks you there is no help save in your own firm will," said Johann Leopold. "I know this, and in this respect I leave you entirely to yourself. All that I can do is to relieve you from embarra.s.sing circ.u.mstances."

"Embarra.s.sing?" Otto repeated. "Only embarra.s.sing? Rather say desperate!

What am I but the farmer of a small property? I, who detest farming; I, who am made for a soldier!"

"But you voluntarily left the army," said Johann Leopold. Otto's eyes fell beneath his cousin's look.

"No, not voluntarily; by the old man's orders," he replied. "Odd that he never wrote you how it was. It was all the fault of my unlucky pa.s.sion for play. I had made a promise, and forgotten it, and he decreed that I should no longer wear the king's uniform."

"He will reverse that decree," said Johann Leopold. "I will represent to him----"

"You needn't trouble yourself. So long as he lives I must eat dirt. But if I had the means----"

"For what?" Johann Leopold asked, when Otto paused.

"To enter the Russian Guards," Otto replied. "A great deal is to be done there by patronage. Waldemar could be of service to me----"

Johann Leopold was strangely moved. Was it mere chance, unconscious sympathy, that caused both to desire to go to Russia? At all events, he would help them as far as lay in his power.

"I will supply the means," he said. "While I was away I inherited, as you probably know, the estates of my mother's eldest brother. My income from the Bohemian coal-mines will suffice for your needs. I will make it over to you. Do not thank me!" he added, as Otto started up, with an exclamation of astonishment. "It is not a gift, but a matter of exchange."

"Exchange? I do not understand," cried Otto.

"Then listen!" said Johann Leopold. And leaning his head upon his hand, so that his eyes were shaded, he went on, composedly: "I shall never marry----"

"Johann Leopold!" Otto exclaimed.

"I shall never marry," he repeated, quietly; "but I do not wish to renounce the task, and I consider it an interesting and delightful one, of educating a Donninghausen heir. A month ago, as you know, a son was born to your brother Waldemar. The infant's grandmother Walburg, our grandfather, and I are to stand sponsors, and it is my wish to adopt the little Johann Karl Leopold. Of course the future heir must be brought up here. Waldemar must agree to that, and our grandfather will be glad----"