Kitabı oku: «A Noble Name; or, Dönninghausen», sayfa 12

Otto did not allow her to proceed. Stepping forward so that he stood beside the Freiherr and confronted her, he said, quickly, "Dear Johanna, forgive the thoughtlessness that has caused you this painful scene. Your repulse of me yesterday in the forest made me frantic. I could no longer endure our alienation."

Johanna, who had been looking up at him, cast down her eyes beneath his ardent gaze. Her pulses throbbed: she trembled.

"I know," Otto went on, and the more he said the more he talked himself into a certain sincerity, – "I know that my conduct towards you has often been such as to justify misapprehension; but all my shortcomings were owing to my feeling insecure of your regard. Forgive me, Johanna. Believe in me as you did formerly; trust me again – "

The Freiherr sprang up. "Is there to be no end of all this?" he cried. "Come to the point, man, if you can; and if not, let some one else speak for you. Johanna, my child," he went on more gently, "I have already seen that Otto is not regarded by you with indifference; but the question is, – and I pray you to take serious counsel with yourself before you reply, – is your feeling for him strong enough to overcome his weakness and folly, and can you trust him to make you happy, that your marriage may be such as is commanded of God and worthy of our name? If you can say 'yes' to all this, dear child, I will give you my blessing from the very bottom of my heart."

As his grandfather spoke, Otto had stepped to Johanna's side and taken her hand. "Johanna," he whispered, bending over her when the Freiherr paused, "you cannot doubt, you cannot hesitate; be mine you must!"

The Freiherr, too, now approached her, and there was such a fulness of love and happiness in the tearful eyes that she raised to his own that he clasped her in his arms with a fervent "God bless you, my child! God bless you both!" he continued, as he put her hand into Otto's; and as the young man received his trembling betrothed in his arms, he really felt that he had gained what had long been the object of his desire.

CHAPTER XVII
JOHANNA TO LUDWIG

"Dönninghausen, August 22, 1874.

"Although this letter cannot start on its way to you for a week, I must tell you before the rest of the world of the astounding change that has taken place in my life. A few days ago I was betrothed to Otto. My grandfather has not only given us his blessing, but he continually assures me that our betrothal is the fulfilment of his favourite wish, and you can easily imagine the tears of joy that dear Aunt Thekla has shed on our behalf. And you, dear Ludwig, what do you say to my betrothal? I hardly expect you to be quite satisfied with it at first, but I hope my future happiness will reconcile you to my present joy. I hope, indeed, that the future will be even happier than the present.

"A strange expression from one so lately betrothed. I think I should not venture to use it to any one save yourself, but I have been so long used to lay bare to you my inmost heart and mind, that I cannot help doing so now. I grow clearer in my own mind when I tell you all.

"It is so in the present case. I felt a want in my happiness from the first, and now I see why. I know you will accuse me of exaggerated anticipations, and I entreat absolution in consideration of my frank confession.

"Ah, Ludwig, the foolish Johanna whom you know so well had imagined a different wooing. We each went duly through all the previous pain that must rack 'heart to heart inclined.' I in especial have been tortured of late by jealousy, mistrust of him, mistrust of myself, and instead of being released from misery by words of love from his lips, grandpapa asked whether I loved Otto and would consent to marry him. And then there were so many preliminaries to discuss, – as if a marriage were to be contracted between princes or peasants. Grandpapa explained to Otto upon the spot how much I was entitled to as the heiress of his daughter, – I an heiress! – and how the capital had been increased by interest and compound interest, and how it would be best to invest my 'property.' Once Otto ventured the unlucky remark that he cared for nothing if he only had myself, whereupon grandpapa grew very angry, and since then Otto listens patiently to long explanations and descriptions of the advantages and disadvantages of various estates that are for sale. It distresses me so to have grandpapa always reminding Otto, as he does, that he must consider himself only the steward of my property; that he has no right to dispose of it. Of course this annoys Otto, and my heart rebels against having these first days of our betrothal so spoiled.

"And it is not only Otto who has to bear what is painful on account of our love for each other. Apart from what I suffer for him, I am continually wounded, more than ever, by the contempt shown for my father. No betrothal announcements were printed, in order that his name might not appear. The event was made known to our immediate circle of acquaintance at a solemn dinner given here; all distant members of the family – and heaven only knows how long the list of cousins is – grandpapa informed by letter thus: 'My grandson Otto is betrothed to my grand-daughter Johanna, the only child of my daughter Agnes;' and although I could not tell how to prevent this, I cannot help having a sensation of wronging the dead. I need not tell you that in Otto's eyes the name of the famous artist which I bear is my best dowry. If it were not so I never could have loved him.

"Apart from these considerations, we are happy. Otto, who resigned from the army some time ago to turn his attention to agriculture, is completing his practical studies at Klausenburg. Thus we see each other daily, – sometimes in the mornings, when grandpapa arranges our rides so that we meet Otto, and always in the evenings. Then Otto comes to Dönninghausen, and, in spite of the formality which is the rule here, there are sure to be opportunities for delightful tête-à-têtes in the linden avenue, on the terrace, or, as yesterday, when it rained, in a window-recess of the drawing-room, while my grandfather and Aunt Thekla were playing piquet and Magelone was seated at the piano. Then we can talk freely of all that life has brought us to make us what we are, and look forward to a future which seems almost too rich in blessings! No, Ludwig, it is positively wicked to ask for more; it is not possible to be happier than I am now!"

Would Otto have said the same? At times, perhaps, but in any circumstances only at times. He was so absolutely dependent upon the impression of the moment that his nature knew only moods, no settled condition. When he clasped Johanna in his arms for the first time as his betrothed he felt 'divinely happy' as never before, but immediately afterward, when he received Magelone's cool congratulations, and later, whenever he felt her unfathomable eyes resting upon him, he was possessed by doubt and annoyance. He would have liked to be free, to break his bonds, and yet a quiet hour with Johanna would again make him her own. The love of her strong, full heart exalted him above himself. He believed for a while in his own affection for her, and so long as no fresh impulse from a contrary direction interfered, he let himself be borne along in a kind of ecstasy by the same current to which Johanna resigned herself. If they had been married without delay, and entirely thrown upon each other's resources, Johanna's influence might perhaps have come off conqueror. But Otto had to finish his year of study at Klausenburg, Johanna had to acquire at Dönninghausen the knowledge to qualify her for the mistress of a household, and Magelone was there – and bored!

She had been startled at first by Otto's betrothal, as by a thunder-clap out of a clear sky. The idea that she herself had perhaps brought about this condition of affairs by her command to Otto was intolerable. She soon found that Otto played his part in the farce with astonishing ease, and then came the suspicion that the farce had been played with herself. Upon this point she must have certainty, and if her suspicion proved well founded he must be punished.

She waited impatiently for an opportunity to speak alone with Otto, which he, however, seemed to avoid. But one evening she was on the castle steps as Otto galloped into the court-yard. She told him that the others were in the garden, and went with him to look for them.

For a while they walked along together in silence; at last she asked in a low voice, without looking up, "Have you forgiven me?"

"Forgiven?" he repeated, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"About the note. What else could I mean?" And her eyes flashed as she asked, "Do you mean this pretence of forgetfulness for magnanimity?" Then, falling back into a sad, gentle tone, "Yes, it is magnanimous. I am guilty of this betrothal, perhaps of the unhappiness of your whole future life."

"You are mistaken. I am not unhappy," he replied, and his manner betrayed a slight embarrassment that did not escape Magelone. She paused, laid her hand upon his arm, and looked him full in the face. "Let me look at you," she said. "A happy bridegroom in his own despite. Oh, if you but knew how queer you are!"

She laughed, the old wayward child-like laugh; but the next moment her eyes were veiled, and, turning from him, she covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

"Magelone, what is the matter?" Otto cried, trying to pull her hands down from her face; but with a scarce audible "Let me alone! let me alone!" she turned and fled back towards the house.

Otto was surprised beyond expression. He had wronged her, then, when he thought her incapable of any depth of feeling. The cold calculation of which he had accused her had been forced upon her by circumstances. Now, in spite of her apparent indifference, her foolish heart had asserted itself. Poor Magelone!

When Otto saw her next in the domestic circle she seemed cool and gay as usual, and she continued to appear so, but him she could no longer deceive.

He knew now what lay concealed beneath this outward seeming; he noted and interpreted every half sigh, every absent smile, every fleeting moment of abstraction, from which she would rouse herself with a start, and the half-angry glance which she bestowed upon him now and then was quite as comprehensible to him as was her evident avoidance of him.

At first he was grateful to her for this last. What could he say to her after that scene in the garden? By and by, however, her reserve began to annoy him. His mocking intercourse with her was necessary to him as a counterpoise to his grandfather's harshness and severity, and also, although he did not acknowledge this to himself, to Johanna's earnestness. For a time it had interested him to pursue his betrothed's line of thought, more especially as he could resign himself to her guidance without any trouble, and, trusting to her, frequently made discoveries in himself which flattered his vanity. But he grew weary of her earnestness. It came to be an effort to him to follow her along the paths she trod so naturally and simply, and he began to sigh for the intellectual and mental repose which he had always sought and found in the society of women.

Where should he find it now? Magelone held herself aloof from him, and Elfrida Klausenburg seemed to have forgotten his existence. In fact, his position in society was entirely changed. He had not noticed this so long as the entertainments given in return for the grand Dönninghausen dinner lasted, but when the echo of the toasts drunk in honour of the betrothed pair had died away, he suddenly found himself of slight importance, if not entirely overlooked, and this not only by calculating mothers and daughters, as every betrothed man must expect, but universally. He had not looked for this result of his choice.

And society had still further cause for discontent with him. One day the old Countess Klausenburg begged Otto not to read the newspaper, which he was in the habit of glancing through daily. Of course he perused it with all the more attention, and found in it an announcement that Johanna's step-mother was married to the equestrian artist and circus-manager Carlo Batti. Flushed with excitement, he rode to Dönninghausen, where he found Johanna alone on the veranda.

"Have you seen what is in the paper?" he asked, scarcely taking time to greet her. "I suppose it is another of those shameless lies – "

"No; it is true," Johanna interrupted him. "Helena has written to me herself. Her letter came by the same post that brought the paper."

"Really!" Otto exclaimed. "Well, you have not much cause for pride in that connection. But then it is no affair of yours," he added, by way of consolation, seeing her change colour.

She looked up startled. Could he regard so superficially what had cut her to the very quick? "Oh, Otto!" she said, "I cannot understand how that woman, whom my father fairly adored, could forget him so quickly."

Otto shrugged his shoulders impatiently. It vexed him that such sentimental considerations should cause Johanna to overlook the real consequences of this wretched marriage; that is, the necessary lowering of her own position in society. At this instant Magelone made her appearance. "How you look!" she said, turning from one to the other. "Is anything the matter? Do you wish to be alone?"

"No, no; stay!" Otto made reply. "All the world knows about the matter we were discussing – "

"Oh, is it that newspaper story?" Magelone interposed. "These long faces for that? How can you be so stupid?"

"It's all very well for you to talk," said Otto. "Try having your friends turn up their noses at you."

"But you must not let them," Magelone exclaimed. "Of course, if you go about like chanticleer in a rain, they will do so. But hold up your head, and look every one full in the face, and no one will hint at the unlucky story; and even if any one should be so awkward as to allude to it, deny it on the spot."

"We cannot!" said Johanna. "It is true."

Magelone laughed. "That sounds precisely as if you had just been confirmed. True or false, you must deny it. You would not put Otto in the position of step-son-in-law to a circus-rider? And all the rest of us: our step-uncle or step-cousin Carlo Batti? It is too ridiculous!" With these words she departed, with the agreeable consciousness of having left Otto in no doubt as to the fresh annoyances entailed upon him by his betrothal.

The evil seed had fallen upon fruitful soil.

When Magelone had gone, Otto said, still more gloomily than before, "She takes it very easily, but I must confess to you that I am enraged. My position was hard enough before." And he went on venting his indignation against society in violent expressions, concluding with the angry words, "Of course you care nothing for all this. You feel yourself, as usual, exalted far above – "

Johanna arose, and interrupted him. "You are mistaken," she said, gently. "Everything that you say cuts me to the heart, and convinces me" – she hesitated a moment – "convinces me that I make you unhappy. This I cannot endure." She could not continue; her eyes filled with tears, and she turned hurriedly to leave him. But Otto sprang to her side and detained her.

"Forgive me! forgive me!" he cried again and again, while clasping her in his arms he kissed her hands, her lips, her eyes, and drew her down beside him, overwhelming her with protestations of affection and reproaching himself bitterly for his conduct. "Be magnanimous as ever!" he entreated; "do not condemn me. I know what a thorough egotist I am; when anything annoys me I think of no one but myself. I feel only my own discomfort. I am ungenerous, unloving, – a very petrifaction of anger and dissatisfaction. All the better part of me seems paralyzed. I think at such moments I am a perfect wretch. But do not you forsake me, I conjure you. If there is anything in this world that can save me from myself it is your love."

Otto was apparently sincere in these self-accusations, but there is no denying that he also found a certain piquant charm in thus setting forth his heartlessness, and perhaps, too, he knew that he was never more irresistible than when heaping himself with reproaches, and, with his fine eyes bent entreatingly upon his companion, begging her to forgive him. The oft-proved power again asserted its sway over Johanna. Overcoming her own pain, she thought only of his distress, and did all that she could to make him see himself in a more favourable light. Upon calm reflection, she even found it quite natural that Otto should at first apprehend only the superficial consequences of Helena's second marriage, and she accused herself of over-sensitiveness. Otto also was magnanimous, – he forgave the pain which he had caused, – and thus peace was restored.

Great was Magelone's astonishment upon beholding the harmony existing between the lovers when she saw them again. After what had occurred a few hours before, she expected something quite different; but Johanna's luck was something incredible. Otto, who had always been known to be fickle, had suddenly grown so ridiculously dutiful that he had actually fallen in love with a girl who had been forced upon him, scarcely noticed any other woman, and, in spite of the proverbial pride of the Dönninghausens, quietly acquiesced in this wretched connection. What was the spell that Johanna had woven about him? It all seemed positively too ridiculous to Magelone when she observed how Otto's eyes followed Johanna; how he would seize her hand and kiss it as she passed him; how he continually sought opportunities for a tête-à-tête with her, even venturing to whisper to her when the family were all present. If there had only been a single soul in Dönninghausen with whom she could laugh over it all! But Aunt Thekla contemplated the pair with pleased emotion, the Freiherr with proud content, dubbing the lovers 'the handsomest couple seen at Dönninghausen within the memory of man.' And the days were so stormy and rainy, – the evenings were so long, – the family assemblages so inevitable. And there sat Johanna with undeniably happy eyes; and every evening Otto appeared, – oh, it was almost intolerable!

But help was at hand.

Hedwig Wildenhayn had just presented her husband with a second daughter, and she wrote begging Magelone to stand godmother to it, and adding that she must not fail to be present at the christening. Within the letter which was for the public was a closely-written sheet marked 'private,' which ran thus:

"Dear Magelone, – You must come, not only on account of the child, but to tell Hildegard (who is coming to the christening) and me more about Otto's betrothal than can be confided to paper. The affair is still a riddle to me. Our husbands – you know how good-humoured they are – maintain, indeed, that Otto is quite right, and Johanna's 'a capital girl!' (I wish I knew why), but this is hardly enough to satisfy me, and Hildegard (who has always been more decided in her opinion than I) declares she never shall be satisfied, and that three such clever women as we must, if we can get together, find ways and means to liberate the poor boy. To speak frankly, dear Magelone, I thought I discovered, upon our last visit to Dönninghausen, that our brother Otto was desperately enamoured of a certain lady (you guess who she is, although your modesty may prevent your admitting it), and I was sorry to see it, I confess, for he could not marry her. I still believe in it (I mean his devotion in that quarter), and I fancy that Otto in pique (men are so odd, and women, too, for that matter) has betrothed himself to this girl. Hildegard, however, insists that the whole affair has been patched up by our grandfather, who chooses thus to make a Dönninghausen of his favorite niece (can you understand why she is so?), and does not care how we stand affected. You see, dear Magelone, you must come. Only when, by your help, we can clearly appreciate our poor Otto's unhappy circumstances (I do not exonerate him from blame, but I am so sorry for him) can we decide whether there is any help for him and for us. I continually ask myself wherein we have deserved this trial that has befallen us all, even my little angel-daughter; for, since her elder sister had to be named Henriette, after my mother-in-law, it would have been so natural to christen this little girl Johanna (grandpapa's godfather's tokens are always so magnificent, and he is evidently so much fonder of children who are named after him); but Hildegard says that to do so now would look like an ovation to the sister-in-law who has been forced upon us, and of course I am too proud for that, apart from the fact that Hildegard never would forgive me. But I must conclude; my dear Eduard is scolding me for writing so much, and we women submit only too gladly to love's tyranny. So adieu for the present, dear Magelone. Pray come as soon as you can. You can, perhaps, give counsel and consolation to your truly affectionate Hedwig."

"How much they must need me!" thought Magelone. "I wonder if they fancy they are deceiving me with this sudden outburst of tender affection. But never mind that; after this letter they certainly will make themselves agreeable, and at all events it will be more entertaining at Herstädt than here. If grandpapa will only let me go!"

Her anxiety upon this point was groundless. The Freiherr made no objection; on the contrary, the request to one of the family to stand god-parent was, according to his sense of duty, not one that could be refused, and he was glad that, in spite of the stormy autumn weather, Magelone was perfectly willing to undertake the journey with all its discomforts. The proof of his satisfaction which was most welcome to her was the bundle of bank-notes he handed to her 'for the outfit which every lady must have upon such an occasion;' and, enraptured to escape at last from 'that horrible Dönninghausen,' she set forth for Herstädt, wind and weather notwithstanding.

Life in Dönninghausen was now even more quiet than before, and thus there came on for Johanna the sad anniversaries of her father's illness and death. The Freiherr, who never forgot dates, could not bring himself to say one word of sympathy to her, but he took great pains to provide the wherewithal to distract her mind. He eagerly interested himself in the contemplated purchase of her future home. Offers were made of estates which must be examined into. There were letters to answer, plans to study, proposals and calculations to compare, or personal inspections to be made of estates for sale in the neighbourhood. Johanna on these occasions would gladly have appointed Otto her proxy, but the Freiherr would not hear of this. "It is your dowry," he said, "and you must be able to love the spot of earth where you are to live and die. Otto's wishes and approbation are secondary matters."

Nevertheless, the old Herr would have liked to see on Otto's part a greater display of interest in the choice about to be made. The young man avoided, when he could, any participation in the consultations that took place upon the subject. He detested the whole matter, which he regarded as an outrage upon his own rights and claims. He, a born Dönninghausen, who had lived from his childhood in his ancestral castle, was pushed aside, while the bourgeoise grand-daughter, whose mother had forcibly severed every tie that bound her to her people, was to be dowered at the expense of the family estate. It might be that this was done for Otto's own sake; but why did not his grandfather place in his hands the sum he had appropriated to Johanna, and thus give him the position which a husband had a right to expect? It had always seemed an annoyance to him for a man to be dependent upon a wife's property, but under the present circumstances it was more than annoying, – it was degrading; for instead of receiving from his equal in rank what might be considered a gift of love, here was apparently a business transaction. Hildegard had written him that his grandfather was permitting him to pay for his 'frugal outfit' with his name, and his Dönninghausen blood was in revolt. There were moments in which he forgot entirely that the Freiherr had been induced to consent to the betrothal, not out of regard for material interests, but because he believed sincerely in Otto's love for Johanna; and at such moments he was profoundly indignant not only with his grandfather, but with his betrothed. Such emotions were very fleeting. He was ashamed of them, and was doubly amiable afterwards in the consciousness that there was somewhat for which he should make atonement. Nevertheless a faint trace of them remained, and Johanna perceived it.

One evening this was more the case than usual. She overlooked his ill humour for a while, under the impression that he would find it easier to overcome if he were not called to explain it, but at last she could remain silent no longer. When her grandfather and Aunt Thekla retired to their piquet, she went to Otto, who was standing at the centre window staring gloomily out into the rain and darkness; and as she put her hand within his arm she asked him if anything disagreeable had happened.

"Nothing more than usual," he replied, without looking at her.

"Usual," she repeated; "I do not understand you – "

"Of course not," he interrupted her, peevishly. "You never reflect what my sensations must be when you and that old man sit like the fates and consult whether this or that estate shall be purchased, while I, who am more interested than any one else, am not asked to say a word."

"Do not be unjust, Otto," Johanna entreated him. "If I have these matters talked of in your presence, it is only for the sake of hearing your opinion. Why do you not give it?"

"Because it would have no influence," he said; but when Johanna, wounded by his unkindness, would have withdrawn her hand from his arm, he drew her closer to his side. "Forgive me," he begged, in the tender tone she had not heard for a long while. "I am detestable to-night. But remember how I am tormented. To whom shall I tell it all, if not to you?"

"If you only would be frank with me always," Johanna said, in a tone of gentle reproof. "But sometimes you are so reserved with me."

"Because now and then I mistrust even you," he replied, "and have a feeling that you are leagued with my grandfather against me."

"Dear Otto – " she began.

He interrupted her. "Never mind," he said; "words avail nothing. I will put you to the test."

"Do," she said, earnestly. "What do you ask of me?"

He hesitated. Involuntarily he had said more than he meant to; but perhaps it was best so. With his own victorious smile he said, "I ask you to hurry on the purchase of this estate, that we may be married as soon as possible and sell it again."

She looked at him incredulously. "You cannot be serious."

"And why not?" And his eyes flashed.

"Consider our grandfather – "

"Consider me!" he exclaimed. "Try to understand, if you can, what it is to be snatched from a career that you love and forced year out and year in to do what gives you not the smallest pleasure. But this you cannot comprehend, – no woman can."

Unconsciously he raised his voice as he uttered the last words. The Freiherr looked round. "How ungallant!" he exclaimed. "What is he reproaching you with, my child? Let us hear what it is that you cannot understand."

Johanna was embarrassed. Otto instantly came to her aid. "I was lamenting the length of our engagement," he replied.

"Already!" said the Freiherr; but his tone and air betrayed his pleasure in Otto's impatience. And, throwing down his cards, – his hand was so poor that he had no desire to play any longer, – he continued: "We would appoint the wedding-day if a nest were only found for you."

Aunt Thekla hastened to put away her aces, for the Freiherr was cross when he lost a game. "I thought, my dear Johann," she said, to keep up the conversation, "that you were satisfied with Tannhagen."

"The estate, – yes," he replied; "and the farm-buildings, too, are all very well; but the house is a ruinous old pile, and Otto cannot wait, as you have just heard, while a new one is building."

"Why should I, sir?" Otto said. "If Tannhagen suits you in other respects, we shall do very well in the old house, shall we not, Johanna?"

The Freiherr laughed. "Indeed, my boy? 'A hovel with the one we love.' Is it come to that with you?" he said, in high good humour. "Well, we will take the matter into consideration. First of all, as soon as the weather permits, we must ride over and inspect the owl's-nest and see whether it can be made habitable for a while. I should like, children, to have you so near me."

All through the evening the Freiherr's mood was of the brightest, as was Aunt Thekla's. Otto, too, seemed gayer than he had been for a long time. Johanna alone was depressed, and could scarcely conceal her sadness. Otto was incomprehensible. She struggled against her suspicions, feared lest she was doing him injustice, and yet what he had said of his plans scarcely allowed of a misconstruction. Was it possible that he could so misuse his grandfather's assent to his wishes? After those words, 'I should like to have you so near me,' could he contemplate selling again the estate which the old Freiherr was selecting for them with such loving care? She breathed a sigh of relief when she once more found herself alone in her room, and, after taking counsel with herself, she sat down at her writing-table to write to Otto. She could not but do it, even at the risk of offending him; there must be no possibility of either's misunderstanding the other.

She told him frankly that it seemed to her unprincipled and ungrateful to allow their grandfather to provide them with a home only to sell it again immediately, and she declared herself ready at any moment to brave the old man's anger by relinquishing the estate and requesting Otto's restoration to the army.