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 ^A FAMILY FEUD 
 
 .A.i"rEi2, THE (3- E n nvr A. IT 
 
 LUDWIG HARDER 
 
 BY MRS. A. L. WISTER 
 
 TBANSLATOB OF " THE SECOND WIFE," " ONLY A GIRL," " THE OLD MAM^SBLLB't 
 SECRET," ETC. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
 
 1877 ^ 
 
 11. li
 
 Copyright, 1877, by J. B. Lippincott 4 Co.
 
 A^3 F3/3 
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The scene of our story is a province of Germany which, 
 but moderately provided with railways, and almost secluded 
 from the busy traffic of the present century, may be regarded 
 as the very paradise of a landed aristocracy. It was towards 
 the close of the summer ; the sun was declining in the west, — 
 its rays beamed with mocking splendour full in the faces of 
 the light-haired, dull-faced peasants, who were occupied in 
 gathering in their master's grain, and stole brightly from the 
 busy harvest-fields into the gray stillness of the old mansion- 
 house of Buchdorf, which lay with its front looking abroad 
 into the green alleys of the park, while the windows at the 
 back opened upon the spacious ill-paved court-yard surrounded 
 by the farm-buildings and opening into the ancient avenue of 
 lindens. 
 
 For miles around, forests, pasture-land, and cultured fields 
 all belonged to the Arning estate. Its present possessor was 
 a childless man of fifty-five, sturdy and well built in figure, 
 with a sunburned face and blue eyes that beamed with good 
 humour. He troubled himself not at all about the world in 
 general, and very little indeed about the smaller world of his 
 own estates, of which he, Kurt von Arning, owned four, — 
 Ermsdal, the only one strictly entailed in the male line, Buch- 
 dorf, Harsbye, and Grasort. He had taken up his abode in 
 Buchdorf, the largest of the four, and there he lived from 
 
 1* 5
 
 6 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 year's end to year's end, content to be left in the peaceful en- 
 joyment of liis arm-chair after a somewhat stormy experience 
 of married life. He was a genial companion, given to hospi- 
 tality, and, even where it cost him trouble, the most benevolent 
 of masters and landlords. 
 
 Thus it is easy to understand that throughout the province, 
 and, indeed, wherever his name was known, Kurt von Arning 
 was an object of cordial good will, — although the measure of 
 respect accorded him among his tenantry was not immense. 
 The centre around which everything upon the estates revolved, 
 the master whom all obeyed without a murmur, was Otto von 
 Arning, Kurt's young cousin, the boy whom he had declared 
 • the heir to all his possessions. 
 
 Before we say anything about this cousin, let us give one 
 moment's attention to the recent history of the main branch 
 of the Von Arning family. For generations its chief had 
 always occupied its entailed property of Ermsdal, and both 
 family and estate had deteriorated, until Kurt's father changed 
 the whole aspect of affairs by boldly setting at naught aristo- 
 cratic prtyudices and marr^'ing a bourgeoise heiress, who added 
 Buchdorf, Harsbye, and Grasort to the family possessions. 
 Kurt was the sole offspring of this union, and upon his mar- 
 riage, when scarcely twenty-one, he received from his father 
 Grasort as a wedding-gift. Here he passed nearly twenty 
 years as unhappy as every man must be who wakes from a 
 dream of boyish passion to find himself mated with a thoroughly 
 uncongenial companion. At the age of forty he returned to 
 Buchdorf, a childless widower, only just in time to close the 
 eyes of the father whom he had tenderly loved, and who had 
 survived his wife but two short years. As the child of a 
 bourgeoise mother, Kurt could not inherit the worthless estate 
 of Ermsdal. That passed to the baby Otto von Arning, — 
 sole child of a cousin, who, left an orphan at an early age, had 
 been adopted as it were by the old baron, and had been to
 
 A FA MIL V FEUD. 7 
 
 Kurt, during all his boyhood and early manhood, as a brother. 
 The most devoted afi'ection had subsisted between the two ; 
 indeed, on one occasion when the lads were hunting together, 
 Kurt owed his life to Ludwig von Arning's intrepid afi'ection. 
 When Kurt left Buchdorf upon his marriage, Ludwig had re- 
 mained there a prop and stay to his adopted parents' declining 
 years, — only leaving them three years before the old baron's 
 death for a residence in the capital, where the Von Arning in- 
 fluence procured him a post under government, upon his 
 marriage to the high-born but needy Augusta von Tretten. 
 The confinement of a city life, however, and the pressure of 
 new duties, ill suited a man whose youth had been passed 
 amid the fresh air and healthy occupations of the country. 
 Ludwig von Arning survived but by a few months his wife, 
 who had died a year after the marriage in giving birth to the 
 little Otto. Kurt's affection and care soothed his cousin's 
 last moments. No blow could have struck more heavily the 
 •warm-hearted, easy baron than the loss of this companion of his 
 youth. The dying man's whole thought was for his boy Otto, 
 and Kurt gladly made him a solemn promise to regard him as 
 his own son, and to see that his future was such as befitted 
 their ancient name. Thus, when Baron Kurt found himself a 
 childless man alone at Buchdorf,. well cured, as he thought, of 
 all desire fur matrimony, he took to his home and heart the 
 orphan Otto von Arning, who, with his dead mother's elderly 
 sister, Bernhardinc von Tretten, took up his abode beneath 
 his cousin's roof, and was regarded by all as his future heir. 
 In the care for this boy the kindly, indolent widower had 
 hitherto found all the occupation he desired either for head 
 or for heart. 
 
 Frilulein von Tretten was a canoness of a poor and strict 
 
 order in H ; a woman of about Baron Kurt's age, although 
 
 looking much older in spite of foultless teeth and hair still so 
 dark as to seem in certain litrhts bluo-black. Above this hair
 
 8 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 the white muslin high cap of her order showed in strong con- 
 trast. Slie wore stiff cuffs of snowy linen around her large 
 bony wrists, and the collar above her coarse woollen gown was 
 of the same material. Everything about this woman, from her 
 expressive but unattractive face to her deep harsh voice an<l 
 the slight trace of hair on her upper lip, was stiff, ungainly, 
 and unfeniinine. 
 
 Fourteen years had passed since the death of Baron Kurt's 
 father. It was, as we have said, a sunny afternoon in August, 
 and Kurt, who troubled himself not at all about seed-time or 
 harvest, was absent upon one of his frequent visits to the 
 capital. 
 
 In an apartment which opened by folding-doors upon a 
 great stone terrace overlooking the court-yard there sat, behind 
 an antique table covered with deeds and papers, young Otto 
 von Arning, now just about completing his sixteenth year. 
 He would have been thought much older; in his large gray 
 eyes there were discernible great determination and force of 
 intellect, but very little of boyish enthusiasm. Undeveloped 
 as his features yet were, there was no denying their expres- 
 sion of pride, perhaps not unmingled with a slight degree of 
 youthful arrogance. 
 
 Upon the table befoi'e him lay open his cousin's ledgers for 
 the past year. He had undertaken to overlook and arrange 
 them, and was evidently absorbed in his work, for his rather 
 pale face had become slightly flushed as he bent over the 
 books and the columns of figures grew rapidly beneath his 
 pen. It was a figure to interest the observer, — this grave 
 young fellow, with manly resolve visible through all the boy- 
 ishness of his age. 
 
 Such was, doubtless, Aunt Bernhardine's opinion as she sat 
 opposite her nephew at the other end of the room, the inevi- 
 table knitting-needles clicking in her busy fingers, her small 
 black eyes resting fVom time to time with an intense gaze that
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 9 
 
 was part tenderness, part expectation, upon the writer at the 
 table. She had ah'eady made several attempts to attract Otto's 
 attention, but young Arning seemed quite lost to the outer 
 world. He sat motionless, except for an impatient toss back 
 now and then of the lock of dark hair which fell too low upon 
 his broad white forehead. Deep silence reigned in the room, 
 broken only by the buzzing of the flies, the click of the knit- 
 ting-needles, and the scratching of Otto's pen upon the paper. 
 The cuckoo upon the old-fashioned clock in the corner had 
 shrilly declared it to be seven o'clock, and Aunt Bernhardine 
 had remarked, "The heat has lasted a long while to-day" — 
 Otto seemed to have heard neither; but suddenly a slight 
 bustle in the court-yard, the cautious dragging forth of a 
 wagon, arrested his attention. 
 
 He hastily sprang up and went out on the veranda. The 
 steward and several labourers were dragging a large wagon 
 from the carriage-house. 
 
 Otto leaned over the balustrade of the veranda. " What 
 are you doing there, Herr Warne ?" he called down. 
 
 The man whom he addressed was evidently annoyed by the 
 question ; but he replied, " We are going out once more, Herr 
 Baron." 
 
 " It is a holiday evening." And Otto took out his large 
 silver watch, the terror of every one employed upon the estate, 
 for it was as punctual to the minute as its master. 
 
 " True, Herr Baron," the steward replied, swallowing his 
 vexation, " but old Schafer thinks we shall have a storm, and 
 he is weather-wise. In an hour we can get in all the grain on 
 the lower meadow, and then " 
 
 " No matter for that," Otto said, with a shrug ; " my cousin 
 desires that the holiday evenings should be rigidly observed; 
 and, besides, is there not to be a wedding in Buchdorf 
 to-night ?" And he turned towards the peasants, who were 
 enjoying the steward's discomfiture. 
 
 A*
 
 10 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 The men took off their caps. " Yes, Ilerr Baron." 
 
 " But," the steward ventured to remonstrate, " a storm would 
 cause so much loss " 
 
 " We must bear it," Otto interrupted him. " Put back the 
 wagon, Herr Warne. My cousin's orders must be obeyed." 
 
 And, without waiting to see the result of his words, young 
 Arning re-entered the room, and sat down at his writing-table 
 again. 
 
 " But, Otto, you ought not to have done that," said Aunt 
 Bcruhardine, reprovingly. " If old Schafer is right, and we 
 do have a storm, it will cause the loss of at least several hun- 
 dred thalers." 
 
 " I only obeyed Kurt's order," was the laconic reply. 
 
 " Kurt never would have objected to any arrangement of 
 yours." 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but it is not my place to make arrangements 
 here." 
 
 " Why not, if they are good ones ? Kurt's strict rules are 
 all nonsense, especially when he is not here to see them put in 
 force. The people could just as well have left off work an hour 
 earlier to-morrow. They would have been quite as well pleased, 
 and the wheat would not have been spoiled. No, Otto," she 
 continued, as her nephew showed no intention of replying, 
 " much as you love Kurt, you must admit that you never 
 would have given such an order." 
 
 " Perhaps not. I certainly should act differently from Kurt 
 in many ways," Otto now quietly replied. 
 
 " Why do you not, then ? If Kurt takes no pains to keep 
 the property in good condition for you, you might be allowed 
 to do it for yourself You have some claims here." 
 
 " After him, — yes. But at present Kurt is master in Buch- 
 dorf ; and let us hope he may long continue so." 
 
 The words were negligently spoken, and sounded neither like 
 a devout wish nor a hypocritical phrase, but like the usual re-
 
 A FA MIL F FEUD. 11 
 
 buff to a frequent suggestion. Aunt Bernhardine evidently 
 regarded them in this light, for she fell silent, and dropped her 
 eyes upon her knitting with an injured air. 
 
 Then came a succession of messengers, huntsmen, and labour- 
 ers. The young baron attended to all their demands without 
 interrupting his work. 
 
 " Otto," the canoness began again, as the door closed upon 
 the last of them. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " You have given holiday to every one else ; how long are 
 you going to work over those accounts?" 
 
 " Until I have finished them." 
 
 " Indeed you have been writing long enough. The books 
 cannot be in very good order." 
 
 " Order ! Last year's harvest is not settled up." 
 
 " Tliat is too bad ! How can Wame be so negligent ? And, 
 stranger still, how can Kurt put up with such neglect ?" 
 
 " It is his way, you know." 
 
 " An admirable way it is." 
 
 " Don't let it vex you, aunt," the young baron said, laugh- 
 ing. " I promise that the herculean labour of to-day shall 
 always impress me with Kurt's terrible example, and teach me, 
 if ever I am master of Buchdorf, to be as punctual and exact 
 as clock-work." 
 
 " 1/ ever you are " 
 
 Her tone was so strange that Otto looked up, surprised. 
 
 " You mean that I may die first ?" he asked. 
 
 " It is possible that you may outlive Kurt and yet never be 
 master at Buchdorf." 
 
 " How so ?" 
 
 " If Kurt, for instance, should marry " 
 
 Otto dropped his pen and burst into a merry laugh, in which, 
 however, his aunt did not join. 
 
 " You always took too careless a view of the matter," she
 
 12 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 continued. " His father's will left him everything, and if he 
 should marry and have heirs there would be nothing for you 
 but Ermsdal, the only strictly entailed estate, with its ruinous 
 old dwelling-house and scarcely two acres of land worth any- 
 thing So you need not laugh so foolishly, Otto," she inter- 
 rupted herself, angrily. " I should think the case sufficiently 
 grave." 
 
 " I beg pardon, aunt, but Kurt and matrimony — indeed it 
 is too comical !" And again he laughed heartily. 
 
 " And if he should marry?" 
 
 " But he won't." 
 
 "Are you quite sure of that? I had to take a deal of 
 trouble to get him out of the way of Theresa Flieder, Madame 
 von Reise's companion. He all but declared himself her 
 suitor." 
 
 Otto's laughter ceased, and he sat thoughtfully playing with 
 his pen. 
 
 After a short reverie he began to write again, but another 
 interruption was at hand. A servant brought in the evening 
 mail. One of the letters was addressed to the Freiia von 
 Tretten. 
 
 " From Kurt," Otto said, as he handed it to the old lady. 
 " What can he have to tell you before he comes home to- 
 morrow ?" 
 
 Aunt Bernhardine hastily tore open the envelope. Her 
 forebodings were soon to be fulfilled. 
 
 " Shameful, faithless, detestable !" she exclaimed, after 
 reading the first lines. 
 
 Otto turned round. He had never seen Aunt Bernhardine 
 like this before. Her sallow complexion turned livid, her 
 black eyes glittered, and her hand trembled. 
 
 " Good heavens !" he cried, rising, and hastening to her 
 side ; " what has happened to him ?" 
 
 "Read that!" the canoness replied, thrusting the letter
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 13 
 
 into liis hands. There were two sheets within the envelope, 
 one addressed to Bernhardine and one to Otto. 
 
 The baron wrote to Fraulein von Tretten that twenty-four 
 hours previously he had been married to Fraulein Theresa 
 Flieder. He begged Aunt Bernhardine to prepare Otto for 
 this intelligence, which would precede by only a few hours the 
 arrival of his bride and himself He desired that the servants 
 might be apprised of their coming, and everything be as well 
 prepared for their reception as the shortness of the time would 
 permit, and concluded by expressing the hope that Aunt Bern, 
 hardine would extend to his wife the good will she had always 
 manifested towards himself, and that she would continue, as 
 heretofore, to consider his house her home. 
 
 The letter to Otto was by no means so naturally written. 
 Kurt could not feel quite free fi'om blame towards him ; but 
 in-stead of confessing this, and defending his course of conduct 
 in a frank, manly way, he committed the error, so common 
 with weak natures, of attempting to hide his disquiet behind 
 the affectation of perfect ease and confidence in himself. He 
 wrote as if nothing but pleasure could result for his young 
 cousin from this marriage ; spoke of the charming mistress 
 who would bring new life into the old mansion, and of how 
 much more comfortable and happy Otto would be there than 
 ever before, — the worst course he could possibly have pursued 
 with a youth of Otto's peculiar character. 
 
 Young Arning read the letter from end to end, slowly and 
 in perfect silence. His face changed, his hand leaned more 
 and more heavily upon the table beside which he stood. 
 When he had finished, he deliberately refolded the sheet and 
 laid it aside. Very pale he looked, but he still said not one 
 word. 
 
 Aunt Bernhardine never turned her eyes from him. Their 
 previous conversation had not led her to suppose that this 
 news would affect him so deeply. 
 
 2
 
 14 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 "Otto!" she cried, troubled at his strange silence; "dear 
 Otto, do speak and tell me what you are thinking of this in- 
 telligence." 
 
 Otto's compressed lips were at last unclosed. " My cousin 
 does not waste many words in telling me that I am a 
 beggar," he replied, almost in a whisper, but with intense 
 bitterness. 
 
 His tone went to Aunt Bemhardine's heart. " A beggar? 
 No, Otto ; there must be some means to compel Kurt von 
 Arning to provide for the man who must succeed at Erms- 
 dal, the oldest, if the poorest, of the estates now in his pos- 
 session. No child of a bourgeoise marriage like this can 
 deprive you of that, my poor boy. The court must be ap- 
 plied to, legal advice " 
 
 Otto interrupted her. " The court ?" he repeated, haughtily. 
 "What are you talking about, Aunt Bernhardine? Our 
 ancient and spotless name bandied about in men's mouths? 
 every newspaper telling of our quarrel — all for the sake of 
 lands and gold ? No, I never will consent to it 1" 
 
 " Then I shall do what I can," the canoness rejoined, no- 
 wise daunted. 
 
 " You will do nothing, Aunt Bernhardine," Otto cried, 
 passionately, the fine glow of indignation upon his face making 
 him look positively handsome. " You will do nothing, for it 
 would be useless. If you could possibly drag me into a law- 
 suit with Kurt, I should put a bullet through my brains before 
 it was decided " 
 
 He stopped short. The canoness could not speak further 
 with him upon the subject while he was thus agitated. 
 
 " Dear aunt," he began, after a while, with an entire change 
 of voice and manner, " will you not be kind enough to ar- 
 range for the reception of the bride and bridegroom ? When 
 Kurt comes, excuse my absence as best you may. I must bo 
 more composed than I am at present when we meet."
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 15 
 
 And, thrusting Kurt's letter into his pocket, he put on his 
 cap, threw his fowling-piece over his shoulder, and hurried out 
 to plunge into the depths of the park. 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 Meantime a travelling-carriage was driving slowly through 
 the Arning estates towards Buchdorf. Within it sat the lord 
 of the land, and beside him his young wife, a woman with the 
 bearing of a queen, and sparkling brown eyes lighting up 
 finely-formed features. 
 
 Neither husband nor wife spoke. She sat complacently 
 looking abroad over the acres of which she was now mistress, 
 and perhaps thinking of the time when, as a humble com- 
 panion, she had first travelled this very road. Kurt was by 
 no means as cheerful as it beseems a husband of only four- 
 and-twenty hours to be : hLs heart beat with an agitation that 
 increased as he approached his home. He knew that, carried 
 away by passion, he had blasted hopes which he himself had 
 created and fostered, and he was ashamed, not of his mar- 
 riage, but of the haste and secrecy with which it had been 
 concluded. 
 
 But another voice within him boldly defied these prickings 
 of conscience. What actual claim had Otto upon him ? Was 
 he not his own master ? Was he not the lawful master here? 
 If his first marriage had not been childless. Otto would nevoi 
 have dreamed of inheriting his property. 
 
 Thus the newly-married pair arrived at Buchdorf. The 
 spacious court-yard looked deserted ; the house seemed empty. 
 There was no sign of festivity ; no token of the merest wel- 
 come. A maid-servant in her workinir-clothes came from the
 
 16 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 dairy. She curtsied negligently, and was passing on, when 
 Baron von Arning called, sternly, " What, Stina, have you no 
 word of welcome to your new mistress ?" 
 
 The girl clasped her hands and gazed at the stranger — " as 
 stupidly as possible," Theresa angrily thought. But Stina was 
 by no means stupid ; she instantly conjectured why it was that 
 Friiulein Bernhardine had suddenly taken her departure half 
 an hour previously. Still, it was strange, and she could only 
 repeat, in her South German patois, " The new mistress !" 
 
 " Yes, yes !" Kurt cried, impatiently. " Did not Fraulein 
 von Tretten tell you that I was to arrive with Madame von 
 Arning this evening?" 
 
 " No, Herr Baron, the Fraulein went away half an hour 
 ago ; but she left a letter for the Herr Baron." 
 
 Kurt bit his lip. 
 
 "Where is Baron Otto?" 
 
 " I saw the young baron going out into the park a few 
 hours since." 
 
 " Well, then, at least call Herr Warne." 
 
 " He went to the village at seven." 
 
 The baron stamped his foot. 
 
 " At any rate, I shall see them at supper. Is it nearly 
 ready ?" 
 
 " The Herr Baron must excuse us, but, since the Fraulein 
 was gone and the young baron and the steward were not at 
 home, the cook, Marianne, went down to the wedding in the 
 village." 
 
 " And we are not even to have any supper !" Kurt cried, 
 now fairly angry. 
 
 " I will send for Marianne immediately, Herr Baron." 
 
 •' Do so." 
 
 Kurt offered his arm to his young wife and conducted her 
 into the house. " Forgive this reception, Theresa," he said, 
 gloomily. " There must have been some misunderstanding'."
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 17 
 
 " Some misunderstanding indeed," she replied, proudly in- 
 dignant. 
 
 In the sitting-room the baron found Aunt Bernhardine's 
 letter, which left him in no doubt as to her opinion of his 
 conduct. After telling him plainly what she thought of him, 
 she concluded by declaring that never again would she set foot 
 in Buchdorf. 
 
 Kurt tore the letter in bits. He did not venture to show it 
 to his wife. 
 
 The cook returned, and the hungry couple were at last re- 
 galed with an excellent supper. Nevertheless, the evening 
 passed drearily enough. Kurt was anxious about Otto, who 
 did not return. Had he, too, left the house that had for so 
 many years been his home? To Theresa these first hours 
 seemed to forebode ill for the future. 
 
 At last, after ten o'clock. Otto's step was heard in the hall. 
 The baron started ; the decisive moment had arrived. 
 
 If Kurt had expected that Otto would heap him with re- 
 proaches or treat him with withering scorn, he was greatly mis- 
 taken. In Otto's pale face there was visible no trace of anger 
 or scorn. He did not even look gloomy, only extremely grave. 
 
 He greeted the pair courteously, and turned to offer his 
 congratulations to the bride, whom he had ' never seen before, 
 although she had spent some months upon a neighbouring 
 estate. 
 
 Theresa's glance rested upon her young cousin with keen 
 scrutiny. His self-reliant bearing, his settled demeanour, so 
 little in harmony with his almost boyish appearance, the as- 
 sumed repose of his manner towards her, had anything but a 
 soothing effect upon the irritation she already felt. She in- 
 terrupted his congratulatory speech by observing that she 
 could hardly believe in his sincerity, since he had not thought 
 it worth while to be present when she arrived. She cared 
 little, she added, for mere words of course. 
 
 2*
 
 18 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 She had thought to impress her young relative, perhaps 
 confuse hiui, by her manner ; but in this she made the mistake 
 of judginr; Otto von Arning by his years and not by his 
 intellect. 
 
 The young baron did not even change countenance. " I 
 thank you, madame, for relieving me from the duty of uttering 
 mere words," he said, with a low bow. " Pray consider my 
 congratulations unspoken." 
 
 " Otto!" Kurt cried, in dismay. 
 
 Theresa drew herself up haughtily. " Baron Kurt's indul- 
 gence makes you over-bold, my young cousin." 
 
 Kurt felt that it was his imperative duty to speak now, if 
 he would not appear contemptible in the eyes of his bride. 
 
 " Yes, Otto," he said, with unwonted severity, " you have 
 disappointed and displeased me exceedingly to-day. We arrive 
 here to find nothing in readiness for our reception, not even 
 the simplest supper. Aunt Bernhardine has left, and you are 
 out hunting. Even the servants had had no instructions from 
 you. Surely I had a right to expect some service at your 
 hands." 
 
 " At mine ?" Otto exclaimed, with peculiar emphasis, adding 
 with quiet scorn in his voice, " You really should have applied 
 to Herr Warne if you desired to celebrate your marriage witli 
 a triumphal arch and the school- children dressed in white." 
 
 As we know, he had begged Aunt Bernhardine to prepare 
 for his cousin's reception, and had relied upon her doing so ; 
 but, irritated and sore as he was, he would rather have bitten 
 out his tongue than condescend to say one word in self-justifi- 
 cation. 
 
 " I think, Kurt, we had better withdraw," Theresa said, 
 haughtily, " and leave this unmannerly boy to his tutor until 
 he has learned how to conduct himself" 
 
 The lightning that flashed in Otto's eyes warned the baron 
 that it was time to pour oil op the waters.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 19 
 
 " After all," he cried, with forced cheerfulness, " what is 
 there to make a scene about ? There is no reason for any 
 misunderstanding between you two. You and Aunt Bernhar- 
 dine are all wrong in taking matters so tragically. Good 
 heavens ! I bring a young and lovely wife to this old home, 
 and instead of rejoicing to welcome her, you flee from us as 
 if we were wehr-wolves. It really is too ridiculous !" 
 
 This awkward attempt to smooth matters was the last straw 
 to break down Otto's hardly-won self-restraint. Scarcely him- 
 self, he replied, in a voice which he vainly strove to steady, 
 "No more of this farce, Kurt; I am no longer such a child 
 as not to understand what you have done. You might at least 
 spare me your sneers at the annihilation of my future." 
 
 " But, Otto, what an idea 1 be sure that " 
 
 " Why do you condescend to arg-ue with such folly?" The- 
 resa sharply interrupted him. 
 
 Kurt made one more effort not to appear weak in the eyes 
 of the wife whom he fondly loved. 
 
 " It would really seem. Otto, that my indulgence has been at 
 fault, since it has taught you thus to forget your position 
 towards me. Let me, once for all, deprecate all interference 
 or criticism on your part." 
 
 " Whether your own oft-repeated words give me a right 
 to ' criticism' of your marriage, I will not now discuss. It 
 would be of no use, for I waive the right if there be any such. 
 But surely I had a right to be informed of a step so deeply 
 affecting my future at some more fitting time than just three 
 hours ago, and after some more fitting fashion than by this — 
 sci'awl." And he threw the baron's letter on the table, and 
 went towards the door, 
 
 " Madame will certainly excuse my frankness," he said, 
 coldly, turning once more before. he reached it, "since I but 
 comply with her express desire in avoiding mere words of 
 course."
 
 20 A FA MIL r FEUD. 
 
 " Otto !" his cousin called after him, " Otto, I pray you, 
 one word more." But the young Freiherr had vanished. 
 
 And thus one short quarter of an hour had made foes for a 
 lifetime of two people, each possessed of qualities and charac- 
 teristics that might under happier circumstances have made 
 them firm friends. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 At eight o'clock the next morning the baroness began a 
 round of inspection as mistress of the mansion. She asked a 
 maid whom she met, where the breakfast-table was laid. 
 
 " On the balcony, to-day, madame," was the reply. 
 
 " But why, when the weather is so threatening?" 
 
 " Oh, the Herr Baron always breakfasts where the young 
 master has breakfasted." 
 
 " Indeed ?" and Theresa stepped out upon the balcony, 
 " Two people have already breakfasted here." 
 
 " Yes, madame, the tutor has just gone." 
 
 " Did he breakfast with Baron Otto ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, madame. The young master breakfasts at five 
 o'clock." 
 
 " And where is the young master now ?" 
 
 " Out hunting, madame." 
 
 "And the tutor?" 
 
 '' Gone fishing, madame." 
 
 Here was an edifying state of affairs I The master of the 
 house rose at nine, the tutor was gone a-fishing, his charge 
 was ranging the forest in search of sport, and the kettle was 
 kept boiling above the spirit-lamp from five o'clock imtil nine 
 that three different people might have their breakfast at three
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 21 
 
 different hours ! Theresa, fond as she might be of ease and 
 leisure, yet had a true woman's love of order. It was evi- 
 dently her part to evoke it from this chaos, and establish her 
 position as mistress here. She had a yet bolder design, — 
 nothing less than to make her young cousin more gentle, 
 docile, and obedient. 
 
 Towards noon she met the tutor in one of the alleys of the 
 park. He was sauntering along, his fishing-rod over his 
 shoulder, humming a tune. The baroness joined him, and, 
 after informing him that his charge had done but little credit 
 to his training on the previous evening, gently but firmly 
 entreated him, if he would justify the confidence reposed in 
 him, to keep a stricter watch upon his pupil, and especially 
 to see to it that he had regular hours for study. 
 
 Brinkmann listened gravely and apparently with great 
 respect to all she had to say, but she little knew how the 
 clever tutor was studying her while he thus listened. As she 
 turned away he looked after her with a half-contemptuous 
 smile of pity, and muttered to himself, " Success to your hopes, 
 my fair and haughty dame ! A year will bring you some 
 strange experience. If you were wise now, you would sooner 
 thrust both those little hands into a hornet's nest than measure 
 yourself against young Otto von Arning." 
 
 But, unfortunately, Frau von Arning was not wise enough ; 
 she was elated by her new dignity, and with the best inten- 
 tions in the world, but without any due consideration of char- 
 acter and circumstances, she recklessly plunged into a strife 
 which was to embitter the best years of her life. 
 
 Her husband, the steward, and the servants willingly obeyed 
 the rein which the fair mistress had so resolutely taken into 
 her hands. With Otto alone did she encounter opposition, 
 and naturally all her energy was concentrated to overcome 
 this on the part of " the boy," as she called him in most mis- 
 taken scorn. She had desired that her young cousin should
 
 22 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 have regular hours for study, — tlie consequence was that he 
 hardly studied at all ; she declared it the duty of so young a 
 man to be at home at supper-time, — Otto sometimes did not 
 return home until towards morning. 
 
 This defiance of her authority irritated the baroness ex- 
 cessively, and she was still more vexed to find that neither 
 Kurt nor Herr Brinkmann would undertake to call the young 
 *' master" to account for his conduct. 
 
 "Otto has always had his own way, my dear child," was 
 Kurt'ri constant reply to her complaints. " I am afraid it is 
 too late to attempt a change." 
 
 At last the baroness could no longer restrain her impatience. 
 She determined to set her lord a good example. " Some one 
 must take pains with the boy's neglected education," she said 
 to herself, by way of excuse for what she did ; and one day, 
 when Kurt returned from his morning stroll about the estate, 
 Theresa met him with the edifying news that she herself had 
 taken Otto to task, " since the tutor seemed afraid to remind 
 him of his duty." She had not " minced matters," but had 
 given the young fellow clearly to understand what were her 
 ideas of his duty and his present conduct. All that now re- 
 mained was that her authority should be firmly maintained. 
 Otto had not contradicted her; he had quietly listened to all 
 she had to say, and had promised that he would reflect upon 
 it. True, his manner had been rather independent, but she 
 hoped that time would reform that also. 
 
 Kurt did not share her hopes; he feared troubk in the 
 future. The baroness, too, was not exactly comfortable when 
 first the late breakfast and then the dinner-hour passed with- 
 out Otto. It was late in the afternoon when he made his ap- 
 pearance. Kurt sprang up to greet him, asking where he had 
 been and what he had been doing. In the baron's manner 
 there was a mute entreaty for forgiveness, and perhaps out of 
 eympathy Otto responded more cordially than Le had done
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 23 
 
 since his cousin's marriage. The baroness, however, regarded 
 her husband with some scorn, fearing lest his easy, compliant 
 nature should make of no effect all her educational efforts. 
 
 " May I speak with you for a few moments in your own 
 room?" the youug baron gravely asked after a while. 
 
 " Have you such mighty secrets to discuss that they cannot 
 be mentioned in the garden ?" Theresa said, with a smile. 
 
 " Matters between guardian and ward, madame," Otto biiefly 
 replied ; and the two cousins walked towards the house. 
 
 " I know what you want to speak with me about, my dear 
 fellow," Kurt began, as soon as they were seated in the lat- 
 ter's so-called study. " Theresa had a talk with you this 
 morning. Make your mind quite easy ; it shall not occur 
 again." 
 
 " i^ou are mistaken," Otto replied ; " I would not have 
 troubled you about such a trifle. The Frau Baroness's ad- 
 monition is only the first link of a chain to be wound about 
 me which I have no mind to endure. Your wife has under- 
 taken a fruitless task, — as irksome to her as to me. And that 
 we all three may be spared any repetition of such unedifying 
 attempts to control me, I think, Kurt, it is best I should leave 
 Buchdorf." 
 
 The baron gazed sorrowfully at the young cousin whose 
 power of insight and strength of character so greatly exceeded 
 his own. 
 
 " Otto ! Otto !" he cried, with emotion, and almost with 
 tears. " Good God ! if I had known that my marriage would 
 make us enemies 1 Now you will go to Aunt Bernhardine, 
 and " 
 
 " Hear me out," Otto gently entreated, laying his hand upon 
 his cousin's arm. " Indeed I did not mean to reproach you in 
 any way. What I have to say is to the guardian, not to the 
 relative. You know that you yourself taught me to consider 
 myself your heir. Your marriage has disinherited me." Kurt
 
 24 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 bowed his head like a criminal before his judge, while Otto 
 quietly proceeded. " And you know, too, that I could not live 
 upon the bounty of your heirs, a useless incumbrance upon the 
 estate " 
 
 *' But you cannot tell what the future may bring forth," 
 Kurt interrupted him. " Wait, and let matters arrange them- 
 selves." 
 
 " I have not the patience to await uncertain results. I must 
 be independent, if I would live." 
 
 " And you would like a portion of the estates assigned to 
 you ?" asked Kurt, thinking he understood it all now, and 
 greatly relieved. " Be frank, my boy ; you are morally en- 
 titled to it, and I will gladly make some arrangement " 
 
 Otto recoiled. " No ; I do not desire to deprive your pos- 
 sible heirs of their inheritance," he said, firmly. " I wish 
 to achieve independence by my own exertions. Supply me 
 with the means for study, and I will embrace some calling 
 that shall give me a support and a position in the world and 
 enable me to confront your heirs without envy. Are you 
 agreed?" 
 
 Kurt was more than agreed ; he was not only delighted with 
 the clear-sightedness which led Otto to select the only course 
 sure to secure future harmony, but gratified by the afi"ection 
 dictating the desire for such harmony. 
 
 " You are perfectly right, my dear fellow !" he exclaimed, 
 cordially, " and have, I confess, relieved me immensely. I need 
 not tell you how sorry I am to part with you ; but, if it must 
 be, I had much rather lose your presence for a time than your 
 afiection. Go, then, and God go with you ! I make one 
 condition, however: that you still regard Buchdorf as your 
 
 home, and do not spend your vacations in M with Aunt 
 
 Bernhardine. Promise me this." 
 
 Otto promised, and it was forthwith decided in amity that 
 young Arning should go immediately to the gymnasium in
 
 A FA^fILY FEUD. 25 
 
 M . Kurt, who was grateful from his soul to his young 
 
 relative for this solution of all difficulties, took upon himself 
 the providing of a suitable position for Herr Brinkmann. 
 
 When the cousins returned to the baroness, Otto's fowling- 
 piece was again thrown aci'oss his shoulder, and he walked 
 away, simply saying to Theresa that he should not return to 
 supper that night. 
 
 The baroness comprehended that her well-conceived edu- 
 cational designs had been frustrated by the headstrong youth. 
 And when Kurt informed her of the new project she could 
 scarcely understand, much less share, his unaffected delight. 
 She could not instantly approve a solution so directly opposed 
 to her own views ; she was too much of a woman to forget 
 present defeat in the hope of future peace and harmony, and 
 she regarded as cunning Otto's reserve towards her. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Eight days after this. Otto repaired to the gymnasium at 
 
 M , where, thanks to the attainments which the baroness 
 
 had unjustly undervalued, he soon took high rank. 
 
 It was a gay life upon which he now entered. His cousin's 
 lettera of introduction, his ancient name, soon introduced him 
 to high official circles, where his wonderfully precocious intel- 
 lect, his fine abilities, from which a brilliant future was prophe- 
 sied for him, and a quickly-developed social talent, made him 
 a welcome and honoured guest. He selected for his associates 
 men much older than himself, and attained an excellent posi- 
 tion among them. 
 
 People wondered at his bold, clear expression of opinion, 
 and laughed at the dry irony with which he was wont to 
 B 3
 
 26 • A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 treat any unpleasant topic, especially his relations with his 
 cousins. 
 
 In the second year after his marriage a fine healtliy little 
 girl was born to the lord of Buchdorf, and named Beatrice. 
 
 Naturally, the matter was much talked of in M , where 
 
 the Arnings were widely known. Otto's only remark upon 
 ill! occasion when allusion was made to the expensive festivity 
 celebrated in honour of the child's baptism was, " In fact, it is 
 I who have paid for it all with three estates." 
 
 Another time, when a companion laughingly inquired why 
 the Frau Baroness had not asked him to be godfather to her 
 child, he replied, " Why, because I should not have called it 
 Beatrice, but Dolores." 
 
 Both these remarks were reported at Buchdorf, and did not, 
 of course, help to improve relations between Theresa and her 
 young cousin. 
 
 More than two years had passed since the evening when 
 Kurt and his bride had found so disagreeable a reception awaits 
 ing them at Buchdorf, and various changes had taken place 
 in the Arning family. 
 
 The estate, under Herr Warne's stewardship, was managed 
 after the old negligent fashion. But within the house reigned 
 the quiet and harmony in which the baron's soul delighted. 
 His days glided happily by in the possession of an adored wife 
 and of a charming little daughter. Theresa's very life was 
 bound up in the child. She took no interest whatever in Otto's 
 affairs, and when he came to Buchdorf, — which he did two or 
 three times a year, — each, by mutual consent, rather avoided 
 the other, so that there was no opportunity for further discord. 
 And yet the gulf between them was not bridged over, and 
 there were not wanting those who would gladly have widened it. 
 
 Afler a brilliant examination. Otto was entered at the Univer- 
 sity of B as a student of law. Here he at times attended 
 
 a variety of lectures, at times none at all. With some of the
 
 A FA MIL y FEUD. 27 
 
 professors he ranked very higli, witli others but indifferently ; 
 by his fellow-students he was idolized. 
 
 One would hardly have recognized the pale, reserved, almost 
 gloomy boy in the gay student standing on the threshold of 
 the old mansion-house at Buchdorf with an embroidered cap 
 stuck on one side of his dark curls, high boots, riding-whip in 
 hand, and a pet spaniel at his heels. There could not be found 
 a bolder rider, a better shot, or one more ready at a fray than 
 Otto von Arning. Theresa could discover in him no trace of 
 the cool reflection and staid repose of former days, and, with 
 a shrug, she concluded that they had never really existed. 
 
 To Kurt, amazed at the change in his cousin, she declared 
 that Otto had been misled by evil companions, and that reproof 
 only excited him to all kinds of mad follies. She had always 
 known the boy to be weak and conceited, and had, therefore, dis- 
 approved of liberating him so soon from all control. She was 
 mistaken ; now, as formerly. Otto's course of life was in accord- 
 ance with a well-considered plan of existence. Of old, when 
 he regarded himself as the certain heir to large estates, he 
 had endeavoured to form himself to his ideal of a landed pro- 
 prietor ; now, when he belonged to himself alone, he meant to 
 take advantage of his freedom, and, as he once phrased it to 
 a jovial companion, " be a merry devil, since he was a poor 
 one." 
 
 Theresa, who had never before seen anything of students, 
 and held in horror the life at the university, regarded her 
 cousin as utterly lost, and did not conceal her opinion from her 
 husband, who ventured to hint as much one day to Otto. 
 Naturally enough, the gay student scarcely understood Kurt's 
 embarrassed allusions. Mad pranks and duels increased, and at 
 last Baron Otto von Arning was — suspended. 
 
 He bore his fate with great equanimity. To Kurt's re- 
 monstrances he replied that he had long wished to exchange 
 the small university of B for one of more consequence,
 
 28 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 and lie passed the time before the beginning of a fresh term at 
 Buchdorf, 
 
 Towards Theresa he conducted himself, as he always had 
 done, courteously but coldly. A peculiar relation, however, 
 was formed between him and Beatrice, at this time a charm- 
 ing, dark-eyed little creature, the very ideal of a child three 
 years of age. It was no secret at Buchdorf that, lovely as the 
 child was, Otto regarded her with no friendly eye ; he was 
 thought to have almost a dislike for her. No one had ever 
 seen him kiss the pretty little thing whose beauty won for 
 her the caresses of every stranger visiting her parents. 
 
 Strange to say, this dislike was not mutual. Whether it was 
 that Beatrice possessed no spark of that happy instinct which 
 tells a child so surely where to turn for affection, or whether 
 Otto's very reserve attracted her, certain it was that she would 
 stretch out her arms to Cousin Otto even from her mother's 
 lap. She recognized his voice, and even his step, at a distance, 
 would follow him everywhere whenever he would permit it, 
 and, although self-willed enough with others, obeyed Cousin 
 Otto's slightest word. 
 
 And yet, although he never caressed the child, Otto took a 
 great deal of notice of her. Kurt rejoiced to see this, but 
 Theresa never saw her child in her enemy's arms without a 
 secret tremor ; and the little one's preference for him seemed 
 so utterly strange and inexplicable that in darker times it 
 would surely have suggested magic. Through her maid, also, 
 she heard from time to time words of Otto's to the child fitted 
 to excite anger, and even fear. As, for instance, when once 
 he had swung Beatrice so high that the child had been fright- 
 ened, he had soothed her with, " Don't be afraid, you lucky 
 little thing; the death that's waited for by an heir never 
 comes." The fact that Otto had tied the child securely in her 
 Bwing was suppressed for the sake of producing a greater 
 effect.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 29 
 
 Another time the child had pointed down into the pond, 
 Baying, " It looks so pretty down there, Cousin Otto, I wish I 
 could go down." 
 
 And Otto had replied, " I would go with you, child ; it 
 might be better for both of us." 
 
 In her anxiety, Theresa tried to prevent Beatrice from 
 being left alone with Otto, but in vain. Whenever she could 
 the little girl ran to him. How could she heed prohibitions 
 which she did not understand, if he would take her on his 
 horse before him, or catch for her the gay butterfly she longed 
 for, or patiently let her jump down again and again from the 
 edge of the basin of the fountain ? 
 
 He never thwarted her, and seldom refused her any request, 
 and she gladly dispensed with his caresses, for, like most chil- 
 dren, she disliked to be interrupted in her play to be petted 
 and kissed. 
 
 Otto intended to go to Berlin in the autumn, and mean- 
 while he continued his gay student career in Buchdorf after 
 so jovial a fiishion that the fathers of the youths who had been 
 the playmates of his childhood cautioned their sons against 
 intercourse with him. He laughed at the dismay excited by 
 his mad pranks in the country, since his dearest friends never 
 swerved in their affection for him. But of course his folly — 
 and he was never guilty of aught save folly — found sterner 
 judges in these country squires than in the society of a town. 
 
 The universal disapproval at last had its effect upon Kurt. 
 Doubtful of his ward's true character, he gave heed to Theresa's 
 repeated declarations that nothing would ever come of Otto's 
 studying. Instead of spending so much money fruitlessly, 
 why could not Kurt have him taught the management of an 
 estate under his own or Hcrr Warne's supervision, and in time 
 buy him a farm of his own, which could not easily be squan- 
 dered ? All this outlay for his university education was only 
 thrown away. She was sincere in her good intentions, and 
 
 3*
 
 •30 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 Kurt (lid not venture to gainsay her, although he shrank from 
 hinting what he was at hist resolved upon. He shut liimself 
 up in his study, while Theresa, in what she considered a most 
 skilful fashion, relieved him of a hard task by acquainting 
 Otto with the baron's intentions in a long speech in which 
 these intentions were shown in the light of a well-merited 
 punishment. 
 
 He listened, one hand resting upon the back of a chair, with 
 an air of cold indifference that entirely misled the baroness as 
 to the impression produced by her words. Yet when she had 
 finished he had grown so pale that even Theresa was startled. 
 
 " Tell my cousin," he answered, steadily, " that the power 
 lies in his hands. I cannot plead. He must answer for this 
 resolve when my father asks at his hands an account of the 
 son committed to his care, and upon his bead be the evil con- 
 sequences sure to follow upon this step. For you, madame, 
 and your share in this affair, I tell you the time will come 
 when you would give years of your life to be able to blot this 
 hour from your conscience. I think there is nothing further 
 to be discussed between us." 
 
 Otto left the room. At the dinner-table he appeared in a 
 simple dark dress, every sign of the gay student habiliments 
 laid aside. Kurt, who sat opposite him, did not venture to 
 look at him. 
 
 From this time another change was manifest in the young 
 bai'on, but not the favourable one which the baroness had hoped 
 would follow the execution of her plans. Hitherto the life 
 lie had led had been gay ; now it was reckless. He laughed 
 his cousin to scorn when he counselled him to pay attention 
 to farming and the management of the affairs of the estate. 
 He spent days and nights on the open moorland, frequent- 
 ing miserable inns in the surrounding villages. The only 
 being into whose heart he poured out the full measure of in- 
 ditrnation and hatred that filled his own was Aunt Bernhar-
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 31 
 
 dine ; to her alone he revealed the despair that possessed him. 
 With those acquaintances, on the contrary, with whom he still 
 kept up intercourse he was as entertaining as ever, although 
 his wit was accompanied by a nervous irritability shown in 
 occasional outbursts of bitterness and self-contempt which 
 made his jests painful to hear. At Buchdorf he was a morose, 
 gloomy misanthrope. When little Beatrice now approached 
 him, he harshly lepulsed her. On one occasion, when the 
 child had cried and begged for a quarter of an hour for a 
 blossom hanging just above Otto's head, to reach which he 
 had but to extend his hand, without receiving any attention 
 from him, Theresa's maternal indignation found vent in a few 
 sharp words of remonstrance and reproof Otto, by way of 
 reply, coldly asked whether his next occupation was to be 
 that of a child's nurse, and slowly walked away. 
 
 The blossoms were left upon the bough, and the baroness, 
 who had first not loved, and had then hated the boy, now began 
 to fear him. 
 
 One warm day in spring, Otto, pale, irritable, and in 
 that uncomfortable condition sure to be the result of a night 
 spent in revelry, was wandering in the quiet park, just because 
 he could not sleep away the entire day as he would gladly 
 have done. From a distance, little Beatrice came flying to- 
 wards him, her embroidered dress fluttering, her brown curls 
 waving, and her large eyes sparkling brighter than the dia- 
 mond in the little golden cross that dangled from her neck. 
 
 " Cousin Otto, Cousin Otto !" she cried, breathless, " I am 
 so glad you are come at last. I have been so often to 
 your door ; here are some flowers for you, — May-bells and 
 daisies, — see how pretty they are !" 
 
 " I know where there are some even prettier," Otto replied, 
 more kindly than usual, for he could never quite bring him- 
 self to be harsh when he was alone with the child. " But it 
 is very far from here."
 
 32 A FAMIIA' FEUD. 
 
 " Whore — where is it, Cousin Otto ?" 
 
 " Near the three oaks, close by the park gates ; I am afraid 
 you cannot find it." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I can ; this is the way. Stay there, and I will 
 bring you a bunch." And the little thing shot off like an 
 arrow. 
 
 With an impatient gesture, Otto threw aside among the 
 bushes the flowers he had taken mechanically from her hands, 
 and sauntered on. 
 
 He had no suspicion that there had been a witness to this 
 insignificant little scene ; but so it was. Concealed among the 
 leafy shrubbery, the steward of the estate, Heiurich Warne, 
 was standing motionless on the velvet grass. He was a young 
 man, only a few years older than the young baron himself, 
 much more developed, and handsomer, although not so dis- 
 tinguished in appearance. 
 
 The two were continually compared, and almost always to 
 Otto's disadvantage. The steward's fair hair waved so luxu- 
 riantly about his fresh-coloured face, there was so merry a 
 glance in his blue eyes, and such a good-humoured smile played 
 about his full lips, that all were attracted by him. No one 
 had ever heard a quick word from Herr Warne. He had an 
 excuse ready for all shortcomings, went regularly to churcli 
 every Sunday, and possessed a rare talent for clothing in 
 poetic expressions the fine sentiments that inspired him. 
 
 He never stamped about ; his tread was so soft and light, 
 even in the heaviest boots, that his approach was not perceived 
 until his presence was manifest. Also, he was always most 
 carefully dressed, almost too carefully for a man whose duty it 
 was to assist in the labour of the peasants under his control. 
 In short, the steward was a young man after Theresa's own 
 heart, and she sincei'ely regretted that Otto did not resemble 
 him. 
 
 If she could have seen him at this moment, the sight would
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 33 
 
 certainly have surprised her. The stereotyped smile had van- 
 ished from his features, and in its place there was an expres- 
 sion of malice which sat ill on the handsome face. Well 
 touched up, the little scene he had just witnessed would 
 add another to the many proofs that the baroness already had 
 of Otto's want of affection for her child. Well touched up, 
 be it understood, for Frau von Arning would never, in spite 
 of her dislike, have lent her ear to any common slander 
 against Otto. 
 
 Meanwhile, the young baron walked on through the level 
 waste of moorland. The desolation about him accorded well 
 with his gloomy reveries. He encountered no human being, 
 and he was glad ; for the world and mankind were alike dis- 
 tasteful to him this morning. He cursed the fate that fettered 
 him to a place where he had no real friend, and a surmise 
 dawned upon his mind that it might be better to leave Kurt 
 and the baroness in the enjoyment of the money from which 
 they were so unwilling to be parted, to forsake his native 
 land, and begin existence afresh in some distant quarter of the 
 globe. He pursued this thought until physical exhaustion 
 recalled him to reality, and then he flung himself down among 
 the heather. " Perhaps I can find rest here," he muttered, 
 and sought forgetfulness in sleep. 
 
 He did, in fact, slumber pi'ofoundly until, after the lapse 
 of several hours, a soft step near awakened him. Sitting 
 up, he saw a young gipsy woman approaching. She had the 
 wild, half-savage beauty so characteristic of her race in youth. 
 Dishevelled blue-black hair fell from beneath the gay kerchief 
 wrapped about her head, down upon her shoulders, which 
 were clad in a shabby velvet jacket, and in a striped shawl 
 thrown around her she carried a sleeping boy, about a month 
 old. 
 
 Otto sprang up. " Good-day, pretty one !" he cried to 
 the startled new-comer. " Don't be afraid; I am no robber." 
 
 B*
 
 34 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 " I was only startled, Ilerr Baron Otto." 
 
 " Aha, child, — so you know me ! A good reason why you 
 should tell me your name. What is it?" 
 
 " Maida, Ilerr Baron." 
 
 " A pretty name. A prophetess, too, I dare swear. Maida, 
 can you tell me my fortune ?" 
 
 The gipsy nodded, and Otto held out his hand to her, look- 
 ing down at her with a smile of admiration for her beauty and 
 of incredulity as to her gift of prophecy. 
 
 She studied the open palm for a few moments, then raised 
 her eyes from the lines traced there, and said, gravely, " Re- 
 joice, Herr Baron. After great sorrow the best fortune in 
 the world will be yours." 
 
 " Poor little Maida. The best fortune in the world is a 
 very vague promise," said Otto. " What do you think it 
 means, child? Money and laud, or a tub and content. 
 or " 
 
 " No, — a true and lovely wife." 
 
 The young baron laughed aloud. " Diable ! you promise 
 more than Venus herself," he exclaimed. " But, my modf rn 
 Venus of the moor, what shall a modern Paris offer you in 
 reward? I hardly think you would be content only to be 
 adjudged the prize of beauty, which I solemnly declare is 
 yours; therefore receive the more practical homage of our 
 time in return for your classic utterance." 
 
 As he spoke, he emptied the contents of his purse into the 
 hand of the astonished gipsy, who, of course, understood 
 nothing of what he had said, but who readily comprehended 
 the chink of silver coin, as she curtsied gratefully to the 
 young baron and went on her way. 
 
 He turned towards the neighbouring estate of Harsbye, while 
 Maida walked briskly on over the moor. A few hours after- 
 wards, when twilight had set in, the cry of a child attracted 
 her attention. She turned in the direction whence the sound
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 35 
 
 proceeded, and found on the ground asleep a little girl about 
 three years old, who had in her sleep uttered the cry she had 
 heard. Greatly amazed, Maida bent down over the little one. 
 How came this child, who judging from her appearance must 
 belong to wealthy parents, here on this lonely and desolate 
 spot with the night so close at hand? 
 
 Whilst Maida was puzzlin^ over this question, the little girl 
 opened her large black eyes in a wondering gaze, and then 
 tried to stand up, which, however, she could not do, as she was 
 tied hand and foot to two stout bushes growing on the moor. 
 
 In vain did Maida try to learn from her who she was, and 
 the name of her parents. The child only cried and complained 
 of hunger. The good-natured gipsy could not leave it here 
 helpless ; she gathered it up in her arms, and hurried on with 
 her double burden to the camp of her tribe. 
 
 Meanwhile, young Arning sauntered on, foreboding no evil, 
 through Harsbye and Grasort, to the Buchdorf mansion. His 
 astonishment was great to find all there in the wildest confu- 
 sion. The servants were rushing hither and thither, Kurt was 
 as undecided as usual as to what was to be done, and the 
 baroness was pacing the great hall to and fro, wringing 
 her hands and mourning for " Beatrice, dear, sweet little 
 Beatrice." 
 
 Otto was shocked at the strange scene amidst which he 
 found himself. It was some time before he learned, in answer 
 to his repeated questions, that his little cousin had disappeared. 
 
 " Well, she will surely be found immediately," he said, 
 quietly. " I'll wager she is hiding somewhere in the house. 
 Beatrice is too little to walk far away." 
 
 '' Yes, but she might be carried far away," Theresa cried, 
 beside herself. Otto, now that he had come, served as a kind 
 of conductor for her powerless despair. 
 
 Otto shrugged his shoulders with an air which showed that 
 he did nut consider her responsible at present tor her words.
 
 36 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 He turned to his cousin. " Since when has the child been 
 missed?" 
 
 "About two hours ago." 
 
 " And you have searched everywhere, in the house as well 
 as in the park?" 
 
 " Everywhere, everywhere !" the baron replied, with a sob. 
 " My poor, dear little girl !" 
 
 " Then we must search the fields and the moor outside the 
 park," said Otto. " Follow me, men. We will go first to the 
 moor." 
 
 " Otto, Otto, bring me back my child !" Kurt cried, ex- 
 tending his clasped hands towards the young man. 
 
 There was a gleam of dark suspicion in his words, but Otto 
 ttever observed it. 
 
 " Most certainly, if I can," he replied, quietly. " Compose 
 yourself, Kurt, she will soon be found." 
 
 He went out, never seeing the wild, accusing glance of 
 Theresa's eyes. Taking five servants with him, he carefully 
 and thoroughly searched the strips of moorland bordering 
 closely on the park and leading to the desolate tract on the 
 borders of which he had that afternoon met pretty Maida. 
 But, as he had suspected would be the case, his efibrts were 
 vain. The child could not possibly have gone so far from 
 home. Of course she would be found somewhere in the 
 house, and Otto could not in his heart grudge the baroness 
 the fright she had experienced. Firmly convinced that he 
 should find the little one safe and sound in her bed amidst 
 happy parents and congratulating servants, he returned home 
 after several hours of search. It was nearly nine o'clock when 
 he reached Buchdorf, and passing through the empty hall 
 entered the dwelling-room, where he found no one except 
 Justice Ecken, an early friend of his father's. 
 
 "You find great confusion here," he said, "and are, as I 
 see, left quite alone. But you know how it is, — the baroness
 
 A I A MIL V FEUD. 37 
 
 is quite beside herself when her idol is in question. Of 
 course the treasure is found. Eh ?" 
 
 " We hoped you Avould bring your little cousin back Trith 
 you," the justice replied, with strange gravity. 
 
 " I ? Excuse me, Herr Ecken, I never dreamed I 
 should do so. I only went to soothe Kurt. In his place, I 
 would have all the barns, cellars, and outhouses searched. It 
 is inconceivable that a child only three years of age should run 
 out upon the moor." 
 
 " It may have been carried there," the justice replied, 
 scanning the young man's face keenly. 
 
 '* You mean by the gipsies camped hereabouts ? Well, 
 that would be no great misfortune. They will bring her 
 back to-morrow for a trifle. Times are far too hard to admit 
 of their adding a stolen child to their own lot." 
 
 " You treat a grave matter very lightly," Ecken remarked, 
 with a frown. 
 
 " Because I do not believe it grave. A murder for pleasure 
 I hold to be an old nurse's tale ; so far as I know, Kurt has 
 not an enemy in the world, and who could have any interest 
 in the little creature's life or death ?" 
 
 ''Its heir .'" 
 
 Otto recoiled as if he had stepped upon an adder. A hor- 
 rible idea flashed upon him. 
 
 " What — what do you mean ?" he gasped. 
 
 " Unhappy youth, you understand me only too well ! Do 
 you not know that a noble name does not shield you from 
 suspicion ?" 
 
 " Can it be that in this matter any suspicion can fall upon 
 me?" 
 
 " More than that. An accusation in due form, and attested 
 by a weight of evidence, is made out against you. For your 
 good father's sake, and for that of your misguided youth, I hope 
 to heaven that you may be able to vindicate yourself But at 
 
 4
 
 38 A FA MIL V FEUD. 
 
 present the evidence against you is so important that I must 
 ask you to follow uic to tlie carriage that waits in the court-yard." 
 
 " I um a prisoner?" 
 
 " Yes. Make no resistance. Those arc waiting in the next 
 room whose duty it is to enforce the law." 
 
 "And who has dared to accuse me?" cried Otto, with 
 flashing eyes. 
 
 " A man, unfortunately, from whose lips the accusation 
 comes with double authority, — your long-suifering relative, 
 Baron von Arning." 
 
 " Kurt !" Otto almost shrieked. It was too much for his 
 power of self-control. He staggered and fell, striking his 
 temple against the sharp edge of the tall, old-fashioned secretary. 
 The blood flowed freely, and probably this accidental relief to 
 his overwrought brain saved him from worse consequences. 
 
 "Let us go, Herr Ecken," he said, rising, and holding his 
 handkerchief to his wound. " If Kurt von Arning believes 
 me his child's murderer, I have nothing more to say." 
 
 Yes, incredible as it was, Kurt was his accuser ! Theresa, 
 driven to despair by the loss of her child, by her mistrust of 
 Otto, and the fear of him strengthened by his own thoughtless 
 expressions, had induced her vacillating husband, in his dis- 
 tress and with his mind filled with recently-aroused doubts 
 as to his cousin's character, to accuse Otto of the abduction 
 or murder of little Beatrice. His lengthened absence and 
 the breaking up of the gipsy camp strangely coincided with 
 the disappearance of the little heiress. A maid-servant from 
 Buchdorf had seen Otto at a distance emptying the contents 
 of his purse into a gipsy's hand. Others said they had seen 
 the same gipsy a couple of hours later with a child in her 
 arms. All these reports reached Buchdorf with incredible 
 rapidity, and the police had little difficulty in finding and ap- 
 prehending Maida, in spite of her frantic resistance. The 
 stolen child, however, had vanished, and was not to be found.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 39 
 
 The gipsy, who had a hearing immediately after her arrest, 
 stoutly denied all knowledge of the child. She had the hatred 
 of her race for the legal authorities, and was evidently de- 
 termined to oppose force with cunning. But when she waa 
 
 carried to the prison at M , and learned that she would 
 
 be confined there perhaps two weeks before she was called up 
 for another hearing, her courage forsook her, and she volun- 
 teered to confess everything, since she could not find it in her 
 heart, she said, to let the poor little girl starve. She declared 
 that she had not stolen the child, but found her tied hand and 
 foot on the moor, and, in fear of the police, had hidden her 
 in tlie cellar of a ruined cottage not far from where she had 
 found her. If the parents did not search for her there at 
 once it might be too late. 
 
 Search was immediately made, and Theresa, who was her- 
 self with the servants upon the spot, did actually find poor 
 Beatrice lying senseless upon the damp floor in the cellar of 
 the deserted cottage, her wrists and ankles frightfully swollen 
 with the cords that bound them, her eyes sunken, her pretty 
 Lair all tangled, and without either frock or hat. 
 
 She did, indeed, after continued efibrts to revive her, slowly 
 open her eyes, but there was no consciousness in them. Neither 
 speech nor memory appeared to return with reawakened life, 
 
 and Doctor Norden, from M , gravely shook his head, 
 
 and pronounced that the child's constitution had received a 
 shock from which it could hardly recover. 
 
 The day appointed for Otto's trial arrived. The sun arose 
 fresh and golden above the dewy fields. The air was filled 
 with the glad songs of birds as the persons summoned as wit- 
 nesses went from Buchdorf to the court-house at M . 
 
 Beneath a spreading beech in the depths of the forest sat 
 Warne, his head in liis hand, so lost in thought that a passer- 
 by might have thought him absorbed in contemplation of the 
 beauty of nature, although such an idea was contradicted by a
 
 40 ^ FA MIL y FEUD. 
 
 certain expression of gloom which his features were not wont 
 to wear when in the society of others. In fact, Warue heard 
 nothing of the music in the air or of the rustling of the leafy 
 crown above his head. He it was who had told the baroness 
 that Otto had sent little Beatrice to the park-gates, and he 
 had been summoned to appear to-day as a witness against Herr 
 von Arning. As he sat here, surrounded by all that was 
 lovely and peaceful in nature, he was deciding with burning 
 cheeks but with cool calculation which would be most to his 
 own advantage, — the condemnation or the acquittal of Otto 
 von Arning. The young baron had never been his friend, 
 and was, besides, the only energetic member of the family at 
 Buchdorf. Were he away there would remain only a weak, 
 elderly man, an impulsive, passionate woman, and a sickly, 
 helpless child. The steward arose, and buttoned his light coat 
 across his chest, while an expression of implacable cruelty 
 animated his handsome face. 
 
 The birds were silent for a moment, and the breeze lulled, 
 when in the silence was heard the clear shrill cry of the 
 cuckoo, — then a second and a third. The steward started, 
 but soon began to count the reiterations as the children do, 
 
 " Yes, no, yes, no " The bird ceased at a " yes." The 
 
 man smiled coldly, and walked on towards the town. 
 
 The court-room was crowded, and the appearance of the 
 accused awakened groans and hisses. Among all those as- 
 sembled, there was scarcely one who had any doubt of Otto's 
 guilt. 
 
 In that country the customs are simple and primitive. The 
 inhabitants are for the most part well-to-do. Robbery and 
 crime are of comparatively rare occurrence. And who except 
 the wild young baron at Buchdorf could have devised a 
 scheme so detestable as the murder of charming little Beatrice? 
 There was nothing of which he was not capable. It had 
 always been easy to see what he would come to. And then
 
 A FA MIL V FEUD. 41 
 
 all looked curiously at the three principal actors in the scene : 
 the gipsy, pale, dishevelled, and distraught; and the two 
 cousins, one of whom had brought against the other so terrible 
 an accusation. To look at them, Kurt would have been taken 
 for the accused. He stood like an image of woe, — and no 
 wonder! His only child lay wrestling with death, and his 
 cousin who had once been as a son to him was here arraigned 
 as a criminal. There was little change to be observed in Otto, 
 except that he was paler than usual. 
 
 The trial began ; but there was little light thrown upon 
 the affair. Maida repeated precisely what she had said shortly 
 after her arrest, that when the police came to search her camp 
 she had been afraid and had hidden the child, meaning to re- 
 lease it when the danger of discovery should be past. She 
 stoutly denied that Otto had employed her to steal the child 
 or that he had ever mentioned the child to her. She had 
 found it on the Harsbye moor, she insisted, and nothing else 
 could be extorted from her. 
 
 In fact, when the people from the surrounding villages testi- 
 fied where and when they had seen her pass, it was found im- 
 possible that she should have returned to Buchdorf after 
 parting with Otto. But perhaps Von Arning had previously 
 brought the child out upon the moor. Where had he been 
 all the afternoon ? No one at Buchdorf had seen him, and 
 was not his own account of himself — that he had been saunter- 
 ing aimlessly about, and had finally thrown himself on the 
 ground and slept a long time — highly improbable, pleasure- 
 seeker as he was known to be? 
 
 Several peasants had also met him on the moor, although 
 he had not noticed them ; but no one had seen Beatrice with 
 the accused, nor had the maid from Buchdorf, who told of hia 
 giving money to Maida, seen any child consigned to her by 
 him. 
 
 The steward repeated the conversation he had overheard, 
 4*
 
 42 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 and testified upon oath that he also lieard the accused 
 talking to the child outside the wall of the park. Beatrice 
 had not returned ; but he had seen Von Arning enter the 
 park alone, and had noticed something sparkling in his hand. 
 It probably was the cross the child had worn about her neck. 
 This Otto indignantly denied, and no other witness in support 
 of the steward's testimony was fortlicoming. 
 
 Thus, although the court and all present were wonderfully 
 unanimous in their moral conviction of Otto's guilt, which 
 was clearly established in the minds even of the most skepti- 
 cal, still the positive proof of his crime demanded and insisted 
 upon by the defence was wanting, and the whole affair con- 
 tinued to be enveloped in mystery. 
 
 After a long consultation, the gipsy Maida was, upon her 
 own confession, declared guilty of the abduction of the child 
 Beatrice, and sentenced to a ten years' imprisonment ; while 
 Otto, Baron von Arning, was, under the verdict "not proven," 
 set at large. 
 
 A wild shriek rang through the court-room when Maida 
 learned the terrible penalty decreed to her for her humanity. 
 Otto bent over the poor wretch, and whispered, compassionately, 
 "Be quiet, Maida, I will take care of you;" but she did not 
 understand him. 
 
 And then the young man turned and left the court-room, 
 amid the condemning silence of all present. 
 
 One heart in all that assembly had been throbbing in in- 
 describable anguish for him. Two black restless eyes had 
 scanned the judge's face with torturing eagerness all through 
 the trial, — those of Bernhardine von Tretten. And yet, strangely 
 enough, when the disgraceful sentence was pronounced which 
 gave him freedom but did not repair his lost honour, a flash 
 of joy illuminated her features, and she drew a long breath as 
 if a great burden had been removed from her heart. Had she 
 feared a worse fate for her darlino; ?
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 43 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Kurt was not a little astonished when immediately after 
 his return to Buchdorf his cousin presented himself before 
 him. 
 
 " Otto !" he cried, in dismay, '' how terribly changed, how 
 agitated you look !" 
 
 " It is odd that I should look agitated ! There certainly is 
 no cause for agitation," the young baron rejoined, with cold 
 contempt, as he opened the door of the dining-room and 
 motioned to Kurt to enter, adding, "I wish to have a short 
 conversation with you." 
 
 Kurt entered with some hesitation, " My poor Beatrice is 
 dying," he said, covering his eyes with his hand. 
 
 " I am the moi*e sorry to intrude," Otto interrupted him ; 
 " but I must speak now, for you surely understand that my 
 foot will not cross your threshold a second time. To business, 
 then ! Although by our laws I am not yet of age, I desire to 
 be released from guardianship. You will have the kindness 
 to Bee that the papers are made out, and sent in the course of 
 a week to M , to Frilulein von Tretten." 
 
 " You want to be released from guardianship ?" 
 
 " Out of consideration for you. I would not have you play 
 overseer to a man ' suspect,^ released from prison on a mere quib- 
 ble. It is disgrace enough for you that you bear his name !" 
 
 " But, Otto, I entreat you, let me tell you " 
 
 " I will be free !" Otto cried, bringing down the butt of his 
 riding-whip savagely upon the heavy oaken table. " Do you 
 understand? Free — free from your guardianship ! And if 
 you will not release me voluntarily, I will force you to it. A 
 legal process has no terrors for me now 1"
 
 44 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 " But wliat do you propose to do ?" 
 
 " Farm Ermsdal." 
 
 Kurt stared at the young man as if he thought him insane. 
 He would as soon have supposed it possible to farm Sahara as 
 the marshy estate of Ermsdal. 
 
 "Listen to reason," he said, at last. "The estate is in a 
 terrible condition, the castle is in ruins, the soil will never 
 pay for tilling it. There are neither cattle nor labourers there. 
 Indeed you will perish of want if you attempt to carry out 
 your crazy scheme." 
 
 " That is my affair. I came here to rid myself of your 
 counsel, not to ask it." 
 
 " Once more. Otto, listen," the old baron began, without 
 looking at the man who had so long been as a child to 
 him. " I will give you Grasort. Consider it your own, — 
 farm it, — do what you like with it. It is as retired a place as 
 Ermsdal, and will yield you a good income. Be ruled by 
 reason, and take it." 
 
 " From you ? Not if it were a crust to keep me from 
 starvation ! Let there be an end to all this. Will you have 
 the papers made out or not?" 
 
 " I will order them executed, if you insist upon it." 
 
 " Very well ; I shall expect to receive them within a week 
 at the farthest." And without saying farewell, Otto left the 
 room and the house. 
 
 They never met again. 
 
 Some days after this, Aunt Bernhardine was walking to 
 and fro restlessly in her little sitting-room in M . 
 
 She still wore the black woollen dress and the spotless collar 
 and cuffs in which we saw her first, four years before ; but the 
 time since had not passed her by without leaving traces of its 
 flight. There was many a silver thread in the smooth black 
 hair, and the intensely piercing eyes were sunk deep in 
 their sockets.
 
 A FA MIL r FEUD. 45 
 
 The coffee-urn was hissing comfortably, but Aunt Bernhar- 
 dine, thorough old maid though she was, did not appear to 
 need her cup of coffee. 
 
 Upon her carefully arranged work-table lay the papers sent 
 her that morning by Baron Kurt, declaring Otto legally of 
 age ; but her nephew she had not seen or heard of since his 
 dismissal, and she began to dread the worst. 
 
 Depressed and anxious, she went to the window and looked 
 out into the early morning. The milkmaids were hurrying 
 about the streets with their milk-cans, a baker's boy was 
 leaving bread at a neighboring house ; there was no other sign 
 of life stirring ; most of the shops even were still closed. 
 
 Suddenly the door of the room was thrown open, and be- 
 fore Aunt Bernhardine's startled eyes stood the nephew of 
 whom she had been thinking so sadly. But what a spectacle 
 he presented ! The canoness scarcely recognized him. His 
 clothes hung about him, disordered, — his hair was matted with 
 blood from the re-opened wound on his temple. His haggard 
 features showed his utter exhaustion, — despair looked from 
 his gleaming eyes. 
 
 " Otto," his aunt cried, rapturously, hastening towards him. 
 " Thank God, you are here once more ! Thank God !" 
 
 He sank down wearily upon the chair by the window. 
 
 " You thought there was nothing left for me but to put a 
 bullet through my brains ?" he said, pressing his hot forehead 
 against the cool glass pane. " I think I once said something of 
 the kind to you. But I did not stand in court by any fault of 
 mine, and just now I am really interested in finding out how 
 much a human being can endure without going mad." 
 
 Frilulein von Tretten stood before her nephew mute and 
 trembling. She seemed scarcely able to endure the sight of 
 the devastation wrought in her darling by the events of the 
 last few weeks. 
 
 " You must be yourself again, Otto," she suddenly gasped,
 
 46 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 " or else If you had laid hands on your own life, I " 
 
 She could not proceed ; she controlled herself by a strong 
 effort, but her lips refused to utter the words of consolation 
 she would fain have spoken. She could only ask, in a low, 
 faint tone, " Where have you been, Otto, while I have so 
 suffered from anxiety about you ?" 
 
 " I searched out Maida's people, and last night made an at- 
 tempt with her father to release his child. Oh, no fear," he 
 added, in reply to the old canoness's horrified glance. " The 
 overseer of the prison when he makes his rounds this morning 
 will find her still in her cell." 
 " Your attempt failed, then?" 
 
 " No. The gipsy knew one of the turnkeys, whom we 
 bribed. I sold my watch and chain ; it was just enough. 
 The man opened a side door for us last night, and we found 
 the way to her cell." 
 
 "Well?" Aunt Bernhardine asked, eagerly, as Otto paused 
 and gazed stolidly out of the window. 
 
 " Maida lay upon her cot, dead, — already cold. A child of 
 the forest and field cannot long endure prison walls !" 
 
 " It is well for her, Otto ; do not let it distress you so," 
 Aunt Bernhardine at last found words to say, soothingly. 
 *' After all, what is it ? A gipsy more or less ! And it is 
 what we all must come to." 
 
 Otto sprang up. " Oh, God !" he murmured, pressing his 
 hand to his forehead. " Gone, gone ! And she might still 
 have enjoyed her freedom. Life would have been a precious 
 
 gift to her. while I A condemned murderer is far happier : 
 
 death must soon release him." 
 
 Meanwhile, Aunt Bernhardine had begun to prepare the 
 coffee. Her face was very pale, and there was a shy terror in 
 her glance as she looked at her nephew, which must have 
 struck him if he had not been so absorbed by his own hard 
 fate. She had not taken his hand, she scarcely ventured
 
 A FA MIL F FEUD. 47 
 
 to meet his eye, and now when she attempted to fill his cofiee- 
 cup her hand trembled so that some drops were spilled upon 
 the spotless table-cover. 
 
 " You must live, — you must still enjoy your life," she said, 
 with the energy of despair. " The present is horrible, Otto, 
 but the future is your own ; cling to that. At all events, you 
 are acquitted," she added, in an undertone, with a sigh of relief. 
 
 Otto stopped pacing to and fro in the room. " Acquitted ?" 
 he repeated. " Do you know what ' not proven' means ? Do 
 not speak ! not a word ! or I shall go mad ! Tell me. Aunt 
 Bernhardine, do you know of one single act in all my life 
 that could give them a right to believe me capable of such a 
 crime ? Has my past been a murderer's past ? A murderer's ? 
 Why, that is nothing ! A man may murder and still be honest. 
 Many a murderer shines in history as a hero ! But, look you, 
 this it is : the murder — oh, there are no words ia which, 
 to tell it ! — the murder of a baby girl, a little creature who 
 never injured me, who ran to me with delight whenever she 
 saw me, to cling to my hand with a caress ; the murder of 
 a child of the man who was father, brother to me ; why, I 
 had carried her in my arms a hundred times — 'tis too much, 
 too much ! There is not a common felon in existence who 
 may not raise his hand to heaven and thank God that he is 
 not what they would stamp me !" 
 
 He stopped and burst into tears. It was the first time since his 
 childhood that Aunt Bernhardine had seen her nephew weep. 
 
 She sat upright and stiff in her arm-chair, listening to his 
 outburst of despair, without interrupting it by a single sylla- 
 ble. The tremor, as if from a fever-fit, that agitated her 
 strongly-knit frame seemed, in one of her strength of char- 
 acter, almost too violent to be the eiFect of mere compassion, 
 even although the being thus pitied were dearer to her than 
 aught else on earth. Once or twice her parched lips opened, 
 but no sound issued from them, and several minutes elapsed
 
 48 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 before she mastered her weakness. Then, however, the con- 
 quest was complete. With the accustomed expression of 
 gloomy resolve upon her quiet face, she arose, went to Otto, 
 and laid her hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 " Do not be unjust to your fate. Otto," she said, with singu- 
 lar emphasis. " With all the agony these last weeks have 
 biought you, they have yet made you lord of Buchdorf The 
 child is in a hopeless condition." 
 
 Otto thrust aside her hand, almost with aversion. 
 
 " Oh, horrible ! Aunt Bernhardine !" he gasped. " Can a 
 blood-stained inheritance atone for my lost honour? Never, 
 never would I accept it !" 
 
 The canoness looked keenly and scrutinizingly in his face 
 for an instant, then turned away with a shrug. 
 
 " I did not think you so sentimental," she said, with a 
 scornful smile. " After this wise determination on your 
 part, I am curious to know what are your plans for the 
 future." 
 
 The entrance of a servant interrupted the interview. 
 
 " Frilulein von Tretten, the Jew is here again, and will 
 not go away. He says he must have the money to-day, or the 
 Herr Baron " 
 
 At a sign from her mistress she stopped short. But it was 
 too late. Just as the servant, with a start, perceived who was 
 present. Otto advanced. 
 
 " You have debts ?" he asked, quietly. 
 
 " Yes, — no, — a few purchases ; nothing more." Aunt 
 Bernhardine was embarrassed, — a rare condition of mind for 
 her. 
 
 Otto suspected the truth. He had contracted a certain 
 amount of debt in his gay career, and had carried his ex- 
 hausted credit to the usurers, to whom, of course, he was obliged 
 to pay a high rate of interest. " It was like you," he said, " to 
 try to relieve me in secret. But we must have an end to such
 
 A FA MIL r FEUD. 49 
 
 generosity which you can ill afford. Show the Jew into 
 another room," he said to the servant, " and I will see him 
 immediately." 
 
 " For heaven's sake, do not," Aunt Bernhardine entreated. 
 " He must not sec you here. Let me speak with him. Per- 
 haps I can " 
 
 " No, no, I certainly do not intend to ruin you. Let mo 
 I fg of you, once for all, not to interfere in this matter." 
 
 The tone in which these words were spoken forbade all 
 contradiction. Bernhardine was silent, while the young 
 baron brushed aside the hair from his eyes, and, slightly re- 
 arranging his dress, went into an adjoining room, where the 
 Jew awaited him. 
 
 The man was dwarfish in stature and Unclean in attire. 
 His grizzled hair hung over his forehead. He had a hooked 
 nose and small cunning eyes. After the fashion of his kind 
 in the country and at the time of which I write, he stood 
 against the wall as near as possible to the door. It did not 
 often fall to his lot to be admitted to the private apartments 
 of his creditors, and indeed, since Lieutenant von A., of the 
 hussars, had forced him, with a pistol at his ear, to swallow his 
 own note of hand, he had avoided such places as fiir as possible. 
 
 He started involuntarily, in a kind of terror, when, instead 
 of meeting the canoness, he found himself confronted with 
 the young baron, whom he had long sought in vain. 
 
 Otto saw the movement, and the ghost of a smile hovered 
 about his lips. 
 
 '• Good-morning, Aaron," he said, motioning towards a 
 cliair ; a courtesy to which the Jew responded by edging 
 still nearer the door. " What are you afraid of? you must 
 have expected me." 
 
 " Oh, certainly ; of course I expected the Herr Baron, — 
 of course. Do I not know that the Herr Baron would never 
 deceive a poor man and the father of a family ? When evil 
 c 5
 
 50 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 men told me that the Ilerr Baron was gone far away across 
 the water, — what will not such evil men say ? — I told them, 
 ' The Herr Baron is not gone, for the Herr Baron never would 
 deceive a poor Jew.' " 
 
 " No, I will not deceive you. You come about your 
 money?" 
 
 " Yes, Herr Baron, about the small sum, you remember," 
 Aaron hastily replied, approaching Otto and taking a paper 
 from his pocket. " It is a little over the time, but no matter 
 for that. The Herr Baron will pay the interest for the few 
 extra days — only a small matter between old acquaintances." 
 
 " That's all very fine ; but I have no money." 
 
 " No matter, no matter. If the Herr Baron has no money, 
 Baron Kurt will pay, or the mam'selle aunt." 
 
 " You are mistaken, Aaron. FrLiulein von Tretten cmi not, 
 and my cousin will not, shall not, after what has passed." 
 
 " But," asked the usurer, growing anxious, "how then shall 
 I get my money ? I must have my money." 
 
 Otto shrugged his shoulders. " I possess nothing in the 
 world save the clothes I wear ; not even a watch and chain. 
 Ermsdal, upon the possession of which I have just entered, is, 
 as you know, an entailed estate. It cannot be sold, and, even 
 if it could, it would not suffice to pay my debts." 
 
 " I am robbed !" cried Aaron, seizing his head between his 
 hands. " My money, my precious money, has gone ! But it 
 shall not be. I will go to the lawyers ; they will not see a 
 poor man robbed. And I will not spare the Herr Baron. He 
 shall repent deceiving the poor Jew." 
 
 " You would do all that, of course, if you could," Otto said, 
 coolly, " Fortunately, you cannot." 
 
 " Cannot! And why not?" 
 
 " For the simple reason that when I signed the paper you 
 have there I was under age. In a court of justice that sig- 
 nature is not worth the paper upon which it is written."
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 51 
 
 " Oh, God of Abraham !" cried Aaron. " I am a ruined 
 man if this be so." 
 
 " Go examine the certificate of my baptism to convinco 
 you,'' Otto coolly rejoined. " You do not attach much im- 
 portance to baptism, it is true, but I know you have an eye 
 for dates and figures." 
 
 " Did I not see the Herr Baron's birth set down in the fine 
 book, small and thick, all bound in silver and gold, the day 
 when " 
 
 " I took advantage then of a misprint," Otto interrupted 
 him, " which made me a year older than I am." 
 
 " Fool, fool that I was !" cried Aaron, in an agony of terror 
 and dismay. " But how can a nobleman so abuse the confi- 
 dence of an honest Israelite as to give him worthless paper for 
 good money. What is it to be a nobleman ? You are none ; 
 you are " 
 
 " Hold !" Otto haughtily interrupted him. " Don't speak 
 of what you can't understand. I signed the paper to satisfy 
 you ; for me, for any man of honour, a written promise was not 
 necessary. It does not bind me, nor will it prevent me from 
 keeping my word and paying what I owe. Tear up the paper, 
 burn it, swallow it if you choose; your appetite has been 
 known to be capricious sometimes. I shall, notwithstanding, 
 pay you what I owe you." 
 
 " With interest ?" Aaron asked, relieved. 
 
 " With interest, simple and compound, as soon as I can. 
 You must help me to do so. Instead of exhausting yourself 
 in empty threats and abuse, lend me another thousand thalers 
 for at least three years. At the end of that time I hope to pay 
 you both capital and interest. No — hear me to the end," he 
 went on, hurriedly, as the Jew was about to object. " I have 
 been declared legally of age, and my signature now is valid. 
 I am about to undertake to farm Ermsdal. The soil there was 
 not always as worthless as it seems to-day. It has been ex-
 
 52 A FA MIL r FEUD. 
 
 haustcd, and when it ceased to yield crops its possessors 
 deserted and forsook it. I know the estate is at present a 
 desert, and it will cost both time and labour to repair the 
 neglect of years ; still it is not impossible. Farming-tools must 
 be procured and cattle purchased. I must dig ditches and 
 drains, and repair and build stalls and outhouses. You see a 
 thousand thalers is little enough for my purpose, and that I 
 could easily spend that sum four or five times told, but I ask 
 only what I am certain I can repay in three years' time. Once 
 again, then, Aaron, give me means and time to work, and I 
 will repay you to the uttermost farthing." 
 
 While Otto spoke, the old usurer's small eyes had keenly 
 scanned the young man's face. He knew mankind, had had 
 to do with men of all ranks, trades, and professions, and this 
 was by no means the first ruined lordling he had confronted. 
 How often he had heard the words, " My good Aaron, only 
 give me time ! My uncle, or my father, or my friend, will 
 surely come to my aid." But for the first time in his life he 
 now heard a Herr Baron plead, " Give me time and I will 
 work." 
 
 Various thoughts and considerations were busy in the Jew's 
 brain. Young Arning's courage in facing the worst greatly 
 impressed him. And then, although few believed it, a human 
 heart was beating in his breast ; not indeed that there was 
 any pity there for those who when rich and happy desidsed 
 and mocked him to whom they crouched servilely in their 
 misfortune, but Otto had never insulted him. He had had a 
 liking for the gay frank student, and the change that had 
 come over the young man since the trial did not escape his 
 penetration. He knew what disgrace and humiliation were. 
 Had he not felt their stings ? Ard is there a wretch on earth 
 who can endure scorn with genuine indifiierence ? 
 
 " My proposal requires time for consideration," Otto began 
 again, as the usurer kept silence. "So be it! Give me an answer
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 53 
 
 to-morrow. But reflect tliat it will not be wise to drive me to 
 extremities. I do not set much value on my life at present, 
 and if you should add to its worthlessness — why, I had best 
 throw it away, and you can take possession of whatever eflfects 
 I leave behind me." 
 
 This last threat settled the matter, — but not this alone, let us 
 do. the old usurer the justice to admit ; mingled with the baser 
 selfish motive there was a certain amount of compassion for 
 Otto's misfortunes, and of confidence in his integrity. 
 
 " God of Abraham, what injustice the Herr Baron does 
 the poor Jew !" he said, humbly. " I was silent only from 
 surprise. The Herr Baron shall have the thousand thalers, 
 and the God of my fathers send him a blessing with the money I 
 Did I not always do what I could for the Herr Baron ? And 
 he will not deceive the poor man who loves him, and who has 
 a wife and six children " 
 
 " No, Aaron, I will not," Otto von Arning made answer, 
 offering his hand to the Jew, " and I will be grateful to you 
 as long as I live." 
 
 The next day Otto went alone and on foot to Ermsdal, with 
 which he was by no means familiar, so infrequent had been his 
 previous visits to the estate. The inhabitants of the village, and 
 the various tenantry, might be seen in sorrowful consultation 
 here and there, on the roads, in the fields. They knew that 
 their master was about to take up his abode among them, and 
 they were not at all charmed with the prospect. The Arnings 
 had been a haughty, self-willed race, regarding their lands and 
 tenantry simply as means of income, and what could be ex- 
 pected of the wild young Baron Otto, whom they had once 
 or twice seen galloping madly past their dwellings ? What 
 good could they ever gain from a master who had but just 
 escaped the gallows ? 
 
 It was no rose-strewn path by which Otto thus entered his 
 future home, along roads bordered on either side by marshy,
 
 54 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 sterile meadows, where, instead of waving grain, only the coarse 
 marsh-grass was to be seen ; past peasants who all regarded 
 him with gloomy looks of mistrust, and who scarcely returned 
 a sullen acknowledgment of his greeting ; past straw-thatched 
 mud huts, the abodes of sordid want, — to his goal, the castle. 
 The castle ? No, the ruin. In the stagnant waters of the ditch 
 lay whatever of the huge old structure the flames had spared, 
 except those stones with which the peasants had repaired their 
 miserable dwellings. One massive tower was still standing, 
 and three walls of a mediasval hall to which the roof was 
 wanting. 
 
 The Ermsdalers had supposed that their lord would instantly 
 proceed to erect a smart abode for himself; they were greatly 
 mistaken. All that Arning did was to provide the tower with 
 a rough wooden staircase, and to rebuild a fourth wall to the old 
 hall and provide it with a thatched roof. The debris of the old 
 castle was employed to fill up the fosse, and then the young 
 baron, to the disapproving amazement of his tenants, took up 
 his abode in the ruin. He appropriated to himself the hall 
 and the ground-floor of the tower. The furniture consisted of 
 a couple of wooden tables and chairs of most primitive con- 
 struction, and a camp bedstead. In the second story of the 
 tower he installed as housekeeper an old woman from the 
 village, who prepared his frugal meals for him in a small room 
 adjoining the hall.
 
 A FA MIL y FEUD. 55 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 Six more years liad passed by. The straw-thatched abode 
 of the lord of Ermsdal had been replaced by no more commo- 
 dious dwelling, nor were its master's surroundings one whit 
 more luxurious. But in the village the flower of prosperity, 
 nipped by a lengthened frost, had begun slowly to put forth 
 fresh buds. To make this possible had cost an amount of 
 thought, care, and industry of which the disheartened Erms- 
 dal peasantry had had no conception, but Otto von Arning had 
 conquered. In the third summer the first scanty harvest was 
 reaped from the marshy meadows. The estate could not yet 
 be accounted o^ value, but it was in a fair way to become so. 
 
 In the country round, this change, effected by the young 
 baron without experience and almost without means, was re- 
 garded as little short of a miracle, and many a neighbour wlio 
 had once warned his sons against " wild young Arning" would 
 now gladly have made friends with him. But no success 
 attended any effort to this end. 
 
 Otto carried his misanthropy to the verge, and even beyond 
 it, of discourtesy. Although he was among his labourers from 
 morning until night, superintending and sharing in their toil 
 he had broken off" all intercourse with his equals, and not one 
 of his neighbours could boast that he had ever been invited 
 beneath the lord of Ermsdal's straw-thatched roof. 
 
 The Ermsdal peasantry had at first made their master's 
 task no easy one. The tightening of the reins of government 
 which they expected had of course ensued ; they were obliged 
 to work regularly, and Otto was not disposed to overlook the 
 transgression when his permission to collect fagots was taken
 
 56 A FA MIL}' FEUD. 
 
 advantage of to break off boughs from the young trees. They 
 looked with defiance and mistrust upon the master who was 
 bent upon reforming their sluggish lives, and many a one 
 would, if he had dared, have thrown out malicious hints as to 
 the suspicion clouding Otto's past. But any such word died 
 upon the lips that would have uttered it, at sight of the grave, 
 piercing glance, the quiet, serious features, of the young baron. 
 
 Afterwards, when the hated reforms had produced blessed 
 results, when a prosperity long vanished again made its appear- 
 ance in the village, and the lord of the land, instead of ex- 
 torting from them the hard price of the sweat of their brows 
 for his own use, embraced every possible means to secure their 
 comfort and welfare, the reaction set in, and the Ermsdaler 
 who would once have snatched his child from Otto's path as 
 if it were his habit to murder children as he snapped off 
 the tops of the weeds with his stick, would now have laid 
 his life that his master was innocent of the abduction of his 
 cousin, and would as gladly have spoken out his devotion in 
 words, as formerly his dislike, had not Arning's cold, measured 
 demeanor forbidden the expression alike of love and of hatred. 
 
 Everything had gone on quietly also at Buchdorf during 
 these years. Beatrice was still living, to the astonishment of 
 physicians, and of all who saw her. Contrary to old Nor- 
 deu's expectations she had not succumbed to the disease of the 
 brain that had threatened her life six years before. But since 
 then she had been continually ailing; the shock had been too 
 much for her tender constitution. She grew daily paler and 
 feebler, and her poor parents saw their darling fading away 
 as it were without the power to aid or relieve her. In the 
 last two years her illness had greatly increased. She daily 
 ate less, and grew feebler. Of late Norden had forbidden all 
 exercise, and now she was constantly confined to the house for 
 weeks at a time. 
 
 Every one on the estate loved the little invalid j as she
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 57 
 
 drove through the village in the grand flxmily coach the 
 Buchdorfers would look with compassionate curiosity at the 
 lovely pale face, with the gentle brown eyes, lying back among 
 the cushions or in her anxious father's arms, and then, think- 
 ing of their own blooming children, would sadly shake their 
 heads. There was not a father in Buchdorf who would have 
 exchanged lots with the wealthy lord of the soil. 
 
 But there was a gay and life-loving spirit in the frail little 
 body. In Beatrice's disposition there was no trace of the 
 touching resignation and gentleness which so often seem to 
 irradiate as with the dawn of another world those destined 
 to an early death. She was not ill-tempered, but as quick, 
 self-willed, and impatient as the healthiest of children, giving 
 at times by her waywardness a world of trouble to her mother 
 and Friiulein Normann, her governess. 
 
 Meanwhile, the powerful frame of the old baron was making 
 rapid strides towards the grave. Doctor Norden pronounced 
 his disease an affection of the heart : it was indeed an affectiou 
 of the heart, but not all physical. 
 
 The gentle, loving spirit of the old man was perpetually 
 tortured on the one hand by the fading away of his little dar- 
 ling, and on the other by a scarcely less wearing anxiety with 
 regard to Otto, the boy whose place in his affection neither 
 wife nor child could fill. 
 
 "Was he guilty, or innocent?" This was the agonizing 
 thought that filled the baron's feverish brain through many 
 a sleepless, weary night, and the more vividly he called up 
 his cousin's image, the more firm became his conviction of the 
 impossibility of his guilt — of his entire innocence! 
 
 In the first winter after their separation, when his frienda 
 had told Kurt of the destitute poverty of Otto's manner of life, 
 the old baron had enclosed a thousand thalers in bank notes 
 in a kindly letter to the young man, not only begging him to 
 accept this gift, but also placing at his disposal any sum he 
 c*
 
 58 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 might have need of. The letter was returned to him from 
 Ermsdal unopened, and since then there had been no inter- 
 course between the cousins. Kurt never mentioned Otto's 
 name; he would not allow Theresa to pronounce it in his pres- 
 ence; but he, once so gay and social in his habits, would sit 
 alone for hours at a time, lost in gloomy reverie, brooding 
 over the past in vain regret for his over-hasty act. He no 
 longer attempted a reconciliation, he knew Otto too well to 
 suppose it possible. But remorse, and anxiety for his child, 
 were wearing away his life. 
 
 When a wealthy man is ill past all hope, his physician 
 always sends him to some watering-place, where at least he is 
 no longer responsible for him. Kurt von Arning was ordered 
 first to a German Bad and then to Italy. It did him no good, 
 however, and when after a few months he became convinced 
 that his death was near at hand, he wrote home two letters, 
 one to his wife and one to his cousin. 
 
 He entreated the baroness to place the crown upon the 
 affection which had blessed him since his marriage by coming 
 to him immediately, that his dying eyes might be closed by a 
 loving hand. The care of his estates and of Beatrice he would 
 intrust to his. cousin Otto, to whom he owed this proof of con- 
 fidence, in atonement for the past. 
 
 With a heavy heart Theresa prepared to obey his request. 
 If she could have consulted her own wishes she certainly never 
 would have left the child, dearer to her than all the world be- 
 side, defenceless in the power of her mortal enemy ; but she 
 was strong and stern of soul, and the conflict between duty 
 and desire was soon decided. Whatever longing for rest and 
 shelter in a world that had been but a forlorn home for her 
 had induced her to marry a man so much her elder, her 
 place now certainly was beside her dying husband. She would 
 go to Italy, even although her heart should break in so doing. 
 
 Otto's letter had also arrived at its destination.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 59 
 
 The messenger who brought it was directed by a village 
 child to the old tower, where he arrived on a rainy evening in 
 April, and which he never could have suspected to be the 
 dwelling-place of a kinsman of the wealthy lord of Buchdorf. 
 
 It was a wild night ; the rain fell in torrents, and the blasts 
 of wind howled and whistled about the ruinous tower ; but 
 there was a fiercer tempest raging in young Arning's breast, 
 as, with folded arms, he paced his old hall restlessly to and 
 frr. 
 
 The rough-hewn walls, whose only decoration consisted of 
 fowling-pieces and implements of the chase, gleamed bare and 
 bleak in the dim light of a single student-lamp, which stood 
 on the rough unpolished oaken table and shed a vague twi- 
 light through the spacious apartment. Besides this table, the 
 room contained only two chairs, and a rude book-case filled 
 with medical and legal works; for Otto had pursued with 
 ardour the studies begun at the university, and the Ermsdalers 
 looked to their master as their only physician. 
 
 The hall echoed eerily with the man's tread, and the dog 
 was whining for admission outside the heavy oaken door, but 
 Otto did not hear him ; his thoughts were far, far away, in 
 Italy, by the bedside of his dying kinsman. Beside the lamp 
 lay Kurt's letter, so humble and touching an entreaty for for- 
 giveness that even the chilled heart of the young baron was 
 moved by it. 
 
 " I leave in your charge my child and my estates," he wrote. 
 " You cannot refuse me this service ; for, look you, Otto, it is 
 the only way in which I can testify to the world my absolute 
 confidence in you, and my remorse for the grievous wrong I 
 did you in my inconceivable blindness and hastiness. I pray 
 you do not say no ; and although we have so deeply sinned 
 against you, forgive my poor Theresa, and forgive me, who am 
 by far the guiltier ; for I knew you much better than she did, 
 and yet I could doubt you. Forgive, forgivti, Otto ! I think
 
 GO A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 I could not rest in my grave if I thought your hatred would 
 follow me thither." 
 
 For an hour or more the young baron continued silently to 
 pace to and fro ; then he raised his head, and although a bitter 
 smile hovered upon his lips, the fire of a good resolve shone 
 in his eyes. 
 
 " Dora !" he called up the tower stairca.se. 
 
 " Herr Baron !" and an old woman made her appearance. 
 
 " I wished to tell you that you can pay your niece the visit 
 you have promised her. On the day after to-morrow I am 
 going to Buchdorf, and I cannot say how long I shall be 
 absent." 
 
 On the afternoon of the appointed day he went, thinking 
 that the baroness would have departed the day before or in 
 the early morning, and that he should thus avoid meeting her. 
 He was mistaken. The baroness, with Beatrice by her side, 
 was awaiting him. She was still the proud, beautiful woman 
 of ten years before, and her dark travelling dress became her 
 admirably. Beatrice had been dressed wnth great care for this 
 interview, quite too richly for her age; but Theresa, with all 
 her taste in other respects, could not refrain from tricking out 
 her darling in whatever was most rich and costly. Thus the 
 little damsel wore to-day an embroidered dress of blue silk, 
 and was guarded against the cold by a mantle of black velvet, 
 trimmed with lace, not to mention diamond ear-rings, bracelets, 
 rings, etc. 
 
 Beatrice was not short for her age, although slender and 
 frail, like a plant too rapidly developed. Her face was exqui- 
 sitely lovely, but small and thin, and of a startling pallor, 
 which was heightened by the contrast of her dark curls and 
 black velvet mantle. The childish fice showed life and colour 
 only in the wonderful brown eyes, her mother's eyes, but more 
 expressive and less proud ; in the pale, thin face they looked 
 unnaturally large.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. Gl 
 
 " You have received my poor husband's letter ?" the baron- 
 ess began, after cool greetings had been exchanged. " And I 
 thank you from my heart that you are come to fulfil the last 
 desire of a dying man. T can assure you that the unfortunate 
 estrangement that separated us years ago has caused him many 
 a bitter hour, as it has myself. But — we will not dwell upon 
 the past ; you are in Buchdorf once more, you are reconciled 
 to your cousin, and I has' en to express the desire that all may 
 be forgotten between us also." 
 
 Theresa had a decided talent for dramatic representation. 
 As she uttered these words she was every inch a princess; and 
 she never could have forced her haughty soul to speak them, 
 never would have declared that she could either forget or for- 
 give the abduction of her child (of which she still in her 
 heart believed Otto guilty), had she not known that Beatrice 
 was to be entirely in his power for some time to come. She 
 thought that she had humbled herself in the dust; but the 
 young baron took an entirely different view of her words. 
 
 How dared she talk of forgetting ? — she who had annihil- . 
 atcd his hopes and burdened his life with disgrace ? What 
 had this woman to forget towards him ? 
 
 But a solitude of six years teaches silence. He said nothing, 
 only lightly touched the hand extended to him, and bowed 
 gravely. But the frown deepened upon his brow, and Theresa's 
 keen eyes could discover no sign of forgiveness in her foe's 
 gloomy glance. 
 
 In a more uncertain tone she asked, " And what message 
 sliall I carry to Kurt from you ? I know how anxiously he 
 is expecting a word of comfort." 
 
 " I have written to him, madame. He will probably re- 
 ceive my letter simultaneously with your arrival." 
 
 The baroness shivered. Her kinsman's icy manner seemed 
 actually to diffuse a chill through the air. 
 
 " Then there is nothing more for me to do, except to hand 
 6
 
 62 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 over my Beatrice to you. Take care of the child, Otto, and 
 be sure we are already your debtors for every kindness you 
 may show her. Speak to your cousin, Beatrice." 
 
 The child looked up frankly into the young man's face ; 
 then kissing his hand as she had been wont to do by her 
 father, she said, in her clear, childish voice, " Only try me, 
 Cnu.sin Otto ; you will see how good I can be." 
 
 The baroness gave a sigh of relief. The little girl could 
 not have said anything sweeter. And she was usually so shy 
 with strangers, and had sometimes confused her mother by 
 loudly expressing in their presence her dislike of them. 
 
 Her cousin's grave face seemed to have impressed her. 
 " Thank God," Theresa said to herself, thinking, as many a 
 mother will, her darling irresistible, " if she takes to him he 
 cannot but love her." 
 
 At present, however, there were no signs of so desirable an 
 effect. The young man glanced coldly towards the charming 
 child, and extricating his hand, though not ungently, from her 
 clasp, he turned to the baroness. 
 
 '• You allude, madame, to the only one of my cousin's 
 arrangements to which I do not willingly conform," he said, 
 quietly. " I think it would be better for all if you woidd 
 consent to leave Beatrice with her governess in lodgings in 
 M ." 
 
 •' I cannot," Theresa in terror interrupted him. " She could 
 not bear the change. Doctor Norden says the country air is 
 the best tonic she can have. Oh, accept the charge of her, 
 Otto, — indeed it will be no burden to you. On the contrary, 
 you will love her. Every one loves my little Beatrice." 
 
 Otto made a deprecatory gesture. " It is not the burden 
 that I fear," he said, coldly ; " I shall scarcely see the child, 
 since the charge of such large estates will not, of course, give 
 me time for much personal intercourse with her. You have a 
 trustworthy governess. But you know Beatrice is very, very
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 63 
 
 weak. Tlic catastrophe which you dread may occur soon, and 
 I would gladly avoid all responsibility in the matter. I have 
 endured so much on account of this child that you can readily 
 comprehend my desire to avoid any repetition of such suffer- 
 ing." 
 
 Theresa sank, sobbing, on a lounge. Although she knew 
 her child was doomed, she had never before heard her death 
 so plainly, nay, roughly alluded to. But the suppressed hatred 
 of six years made Otto pitiless ; at this moment the baroness 
 might have died at his feet and he would not have lifted a 
 finger to save her. He continued, composedly : 
 
 " Therefore I can consent to remain beneath the same roof 
 with Beatrice only upon condition, madame, that you promise 
 to hold me free from all responsibility, whatever may occur, 
 even although circumstances combine against me. Will you 
 promi.se this ?" 
 
 Theresa sprang to her feet in wild distress. All her self- 
 possession, all prudential considerations, vanished ; not the 
 Baroness von Arning, but a mother desperate with fear for 
 her child, confronted the young man. 
 
 " I must, I must !" she cried. " But, Otto, Otto, for your 
 soul's sake, spare my child. Whatever we may have done, 
 however you may hate us, do not wreak your revenge upon 
 Beatrice ; have pity upon her. She is all I have in the 
 world ! You do not know how beggared I shall be if she is 
 taken from me. How can I touch your heart?" 
 
 " No more, madame," Otto interrupted her, proudly and 
 sternly, retreating a step as she advanced. " The life of your 
 child is in God's hand ! Eemember that every entreaty for 
 its preservation addressed to me is an insult." 
 
 *' God protect you, then, my poor darling !" the baroness 
 groaned, as she bent over her child and pressed her hot lips to 
 its forehead. 
 
 "Otto ! Otto I" she exclaimed once again, as she stood erect
 
 64 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 before him. " Take pity upon me ! G ivc me one word of 
 comfort !" 
 
 In her pale beauty she was a touching sight, but he did not 
 once look towards her; he had stepped to the window. "The 
 coach is at the door, madame," he said, coldly. " Permit me 
 to conduct you to it." 
 
 Theresa once more clasped little Beatrice to her heart with 
 passionate tenderness, and then took Otto's offered arm, 
 
 " My child !" she said, imploringly, looking in his face with 
 eyes that might have melted a stone, but which produced no 
 effect upon the young man. 
 
 " Let me entreat you to be calm," he replied, and the 
 baroness entered the carriage and was driven swiftly from the 
 court-yard. 
 
 She saw Otto turn into the house, leaving little Beatrice 
 waving her hand in the doorway, and then she buried her 
 face in the cushions of the carriage and burst into tears. 
 
 " A time will come when you would give years of your life 
 to blot the memory of this hour from your conscience," Otto 
 had said to her six years before, when she had prevented his 
 pursuing his university career. The time had come. Not 
 years only, but her life itself she would gladly have resigned 
 could she have recalled the words then spoken, — words that 
 perhaps condemned her child to death.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 65 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Some weeks elapsed, and Otto had in fact seen little Beatrice 
 but seldom. She pursued her usual course of life under Frau- 
 lein Normann's supervision, and he had enough to occupy him 
 in the management of the estates. 
 
 On a gray rainy day in May, Aunt Bernhardine came to 
 Buchdorf to pay her nephew a visit. She had not seen the 
 place for ten years, and, having declared that she never again 
 would accept from Kurt the hospitality of a night beneath his 
 roof, she was true to her resolve in his absence. Her carriage 
 waited for her, and, when she had said all that she wished to 
 her nephew, they walked together to the gate of the park, 
 sauntering slowly along the broad avenue. When one has not 
 seen a place for ten years there are many notable changes to bo 
 observed. 
 
 " How tall that shrubbery is !" Aunt Bernhardine remarked, 
 pointing to some young trees on her left. " The trees nearly 
 overshadow the pathway, and in my time they did not exist. 
 Ah ! whom have we here ?" she interrupted herself, as a child- 
 ish figure appeared in the pathway she had indicated. 
 
 It was Beatrice, dressed to-day in a brown velvet dress, 
 her head carefully tied up in a blue embroidered hood. She 
 was walking more quickly than usual, the end of the little 
 India shawl, that she wore in addition to her warm dress, 
 dragging unheeded in the mud behind her. 
 
 " Good-morning, Cousin Otto," she said, standing breathless 
 before the young baron, and making at the same time her little 
 curtsy to the canoness. 
 
 " You are alone," Otto remarked. 
 
 " Oh, I ran away from Frauleiu Normann. I cannot bear 
 G*
 
 GG A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 the stale biscuit and wheat bread she gives me for brcakfiist 
 and supper ! And the medicine for my cough is disgusting ! 
 They say there is wine in it; but why can't I have real wine? 
 I'd far rather have the cough than take it! I tell Friiulein 
 Normann that I want brown bread, like what other children 
 eat, and she says I am too ill to have it. Well then, I am too 
 ill to copy those hateful pot-hooks !" 
 
 " Hey, Otto, had we not better turn back and take Friiulein 
 Normann to task because she has not let the poppet do as she 
 pleases ?" the canoness asked, with a sneer, after a scrutinizing 
 look into the emaciated face. 
 
 Beatrice took her words in all seriousness. " No, you must 
 not scold Friiulein Normann," she said, hastily, and a flush 
 rose to the pale cheek. " I will not have that ! The tears 
 come in her eyes when she is scolded, and that must not be ; 
 but, for all that, I will not eat her old biscuits !" 
 
 As she ended this decided and logical declaration the child 
 drew the shawl around her, and went on along the pathway 
 with a weary, dragging gait. 
 
 The eyes of both aunt and nephew followed her. In Aunt 
 Bernhardine's glance there was an evil look of triumph, and 
 her lip curled scornfully, as she said to Otto, — 
 
 " And that frail, wayward little creature, with consumption 
 in every look and gesture, is all that stands between you and 
 Buchdorf ?" 
 
 " You are mistaken," the baron gravely replied ; " Beatrice 
 is not consumptive." 
 
 " How do you know that ?" 
 
 " I have examined her," was the reply. 
 
 " Indeed !" Aunt Bernhardine looked at her nephew as 
 if to read his very soul. " And what is the result of your 
 examination ?" 
 
 " That she has no organic disease. Doctor Norden has 
 entii'ely misunderstood her case. The child's constitution is
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 67 
 
 weak, and instead of employing fresh air and exercise to 
 strengthen it she is prohibited either. Her brain, too, is 
 daily crammed with stuff exciting enough to affect the nerves 
 of a really healthy child. It is not yet too late, if the baroness 
 could only bring herself to depart from the system prescribed 
 by Norden ; but two years more of it will make the evil 
 irremediable, and the child will die." 
 
 Aunt Bernhardine had listened with eager attention to this 
 explanation ; she now burst into a laugh so harsh and unmu- 
 sical that two ravens in the boughs of the tree beneath which 
 she was walking flew away in terror. 
 
 " Capital !" she cried ; " and thus the child's ruin is Theresa's 
 own work ! Your best friend could not do more to further 
 your interests." 
 
 Otto made no reply. The look of annoyance and disgust 
 that came into his eyes as Frilulein von Tretten spoke was 
 still there when his aunt had driven off and he was slowly 
 returning through the shady avenue. Without looking to the 
 right or the left, he was walking along beside a narrow stream, 
 when a voice from the other bank disturbed his reverie. 
 
 " I want to go home with you. Cousin Otto, but how shall 
 T cross the brook ?" 
 
 " There is a bridge a little way back." 
 
 " Will you wait for me ?" 
 
 " No, child." 
 
 " Oh, then, help me over ! Do, Cousin Otto !" 
 
 Otto had gone on a few steps. " I have no time," he replied, 
 walking on. 
 
 " How shall I get across, then ?" Beatrice called, almost 
 crying. 
 
 " Why, jump across." 
 
 " But mamma says the jolt will make my head ache, and 
 then if I get my shoes wet " 
 
 " You can put on dry ones."
 
 68 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 " Yfis, but I shall be sick, mamma says Oh, I do so 
 
 want to go with you, Cousin Otto !" and now the tears really 
 filled her eyes. 
 
 Otto shrugged his shoulders. " I cannot help you," he said, 
 indifferently, proceeding on his way. An instant afterwards 
 he heard a clumsy jump and scramble, and Beatrice came 
 hurrying after him. 
 
 " Here I am. Cousin Otto," she cried, radiant with joy, 
 " and my shoes are not wet in the least. May I go with you 
 now ?" 
 
 " If you choose." 
 
 He walked on at his customary rapid pace, which it was of 
 course impossible for Beatrice to keep up with. Still he paid 
 no heed, perhaps did not hear the labouring gasps that issued 
 from the poor little lungs, until the child said, timidly, — 
 
 " Wait for me just a little, little minute. Cousin Otto. I 
 am so sorry I cannot run like the other children." 
 
 Otto looked down into the pleading face, and could not but 
 feel the charm of the lovely eyes. He smiled, and slackened 
 his pace to match her own. 
 
 She instantly slipped her hand confidingly into his, and 
 chattered on : "I do wish I could run, and I don't think it 
 would do me any harm to try. You know. Cousin Otto, I 
 watch the children playing on the village green, and while 
 Frilulein Normann tells me about the gods and goddesses, and 
 how the Greeks fought for Troy, — and she tells me that stoiy 
 very often, for fear I should forget it, — I look out at the chil- 
 dren and think how much nicer it would be to play it all than 
 just to listen. I know the village children would play it with 
 me, if I asked them. Don't you think they would, cousin ?" 
 
 Otto scarcely replied, but Beatrice rattled on until they 
 reached the house. 
 
 The next day, at supper-time. Otto was passing the little 
 baroness's nursery door, which stood ajar. He heard a sound
 
 A FA MIL r FEUD. C9 
 
 of childish weeping, interrupted by reproof and a constant 
 repetition of the same phrase in Friiulein Normann's rather 
 monotonous voice. 
 
 " What is the matter here ?" he asked, entering the room. 
 
 Beatrice smiled at him through her tears, while Friiulein 
 Nermann explained : " Beatrice refuses to eat anything for 
 her supper except common brown bread. I liave offered her 
 everything else, even cakes and bon-bons, but it is of no use." 
 
 " I never will eat that stuff again," the child declared, a 
 wayward expression conquering the smile with which she had 
 greeted Otto. 
 
 Without speaking. Otto rang the bell. " Bring a thin slice 
 of brown bread for the baroness," he said to the servant who 
 appeared. 
 
 " But " Friiulein Normann interposed. 
 
 " I take the responsibility upon myself," the baron briefly 
 explained. " Now, Beatrice," he continued, turning to his 
 little cousin, " you shall have your brown bread, but upon one 
 condition. Afler you have eaten it you must go out on the 
 green and play for a quarter of an hour with the village chil- 
 dren. Will you do so ?" 
 
 " Oh, as long as you like ; until my bedtime. Cousin Otto." 
 
 " No, for a quarter of an hour only ; no more, and no less. 
 Friiulein Normans will be good enough to see that you are 
 exact about the time." 
 
 Fraiilein Normann promised, although with many misgiv- 
 ings as to the result. 
 
 When, at the appointed time, her charge came into the house 
 flushed and with her heart beating violently, the governess was 
 in great distress about the illness sure, she thought, to ensue. 
 
 But Beatrice was in the best of spirits, — full of the new 
 delight of a game of romps with other children, complaining 
 that she was always the one to be caught because she could not 
 run fast, but declaring that she should run faster the next day ;
 
 70 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 and thus she chattered on until she said she was tired, and 
 asked to go to bed, a most unusual request. 
 
 During the night Fraulein Normann woke in dread several 
 times, to find her charge still sleeping. It seemed quite un- 
 natural that the child should not wake once, although she was 
 restless at times, since it was the first night fisr many years in 
 which the governess had not been obliged to hold the little 
 hands repeatedly in her own and soothe the fevered imagina- 
 tion by assurances that Snow-white's stepmother was not by 
 the bedside, nor the forty thieves hidden behind the stove. 
 
 When Beatrice saw her cousin the next morning, she ran 
 to him, kissed his hand, and thanked him for what he had 
 given her the previous evening. She did not dream, how- 
 ever, of the magnitude of the gift, — that with the slice of 
 common bread he had restored to her her life, and with his 
 orders for exercise in the fresh air he had formally cut him- 
 self oiF from the inheritance of Buchdorf. 
 
 From this time a new existence began for Beatrice. Otto 
 by degrees reformed her entire manner of life. He arranged 
 ner diet, and medicine and sweets were replaced by simple, 
 healthy food. The quarter of an hour's play in the afternoon 
 was prolonged first to half an hour, and then to an hour, until 
 at last whenever she was not at her books Beati'ice spent all 
 the time ranging the woods and fields with the village children. 
 
 When, one day, Fraulein Normann was lamenting over the 
 destruction of one of the child's fine silk gowns, Otto asked 
 her, with a smile, why she dressed her charge so foolishly. 
 What use was there for such finery in the country ? In con- 
 sequence, Beatrice, to her great delight, was provided with 
 dresses that would wash, and by her own entreaty the long 
 curls on her shoulders fell beneath the scissors. Whatever 
 the child's appearance thus lost in elegance was more than 
 atoned for by the look of health that now began to characterize 
 her face and figure. At the end of two months she did not
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 71 
 
 look like the same child. Although her cheeks did not jet 
 show the roses that bloomed on those of her village compan- 
 ions, a fresh, healthy colour had replaced the old pallor, and 
 her figure, though still slender, moved with the elasticity and 
 ease of perfect health. She also made more rapid progress iu 
 her studies, since Otto made her diligence during lesson-hours 
 regulate her time for play. 
 
 Very various were the opinions among the Buchdorfera 
 regarding the altered life of their future mistress. One wise 
 old peasant declared that it must surely be all right, for his 
 cousin in Ermsdal had long since assured him that the young 
 baron was a much better doctor than old Doctor Norden, and 
 it was very good in him to take such an interest iu the poor 
 little baroness. 
 
 But the greater number pronounced it a sin and a shame 
 to let the baroness run about so with the village children just 
 as if they were her equals. " And," they added, " Baron Otto, 
 with his gloomy face, going about and never speaking wheu 
 he can help it, and never smiling at all, must have his own 
 reasons for what he does." They could not imagine how 
 Fraulein Nermann could allow it all. 
 
 As for Beatrice herself, she brought to her new physician 
 the gift of an utter devotion. However great Otto's reserve 
 towards her might be, she was always desirous of being with 
 him without disturbing him. While he was busy with his 
 writing and accounts she would lie coiled up in a corner of 
 the room with a book, keeping so entirely quiet that he was 
 at times not even aware of her presence. 
 
 In his walks over the estates she always knew what direc- 
 tion he had taken, and upon his return he would continually 
 find her patiently awaiting him, seated on a stone in some field 
 near home. 
 
 She was always vexed when he went to Ermsdal, because then 
 he stayed away several days.
 
 72 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 " Where is that dreadful Ermsdal ?" she once asked him. 
 
 Otto pointed in the direction where it lay. 
 
 " Will you not take me there with you some time ?" the 
 child asked again. 
 
 " No, that can't bo done, little one." 
 
 "Why can't it be done?" 
 
 Otto smiled. " Between Buchdorf and Ermsdal there is a 
 great wide swamp called the moor," he replied, to satisfy her. 
 *' No one can go there except myself. Every one else who 
 should try would fall into the swamp and be drowned." 
 
 The child listened wide-eyed to this explanation. " I under- 
 stand," she said, very gravely. " Just like the rich man and 
 Lazarus that we read about this morning ; there was a great 
 gulf fixed between them. But I would have got across it 
 somehow if I had been Lazarus." 
 
 Although she had always been wayward at times to every 
 one, even to the mother who idolized her, she was never so 
 with Otto, but would obey his slightest sign, fulfil his least 
 command, however coldly it was given, with an unreasoning 
 docility like the blind devotion accorded by a religious en- 
 thusiast to his divinity. It astonished every one, and Otto 
 himself most of all. 
 
 One day a rough wooden chest arrived for the young baron 
 from Ermsdal, and, as he did not readily ask service at the 
 hands of the Buchdorf servants, he set to work to open it him- 
 self. He had just, after some trouble, succeeded in forcing 
 his chisel a little way between the lid and the side of the chest, 
 when the servant announced a visit from a neighbour desirous 
 of seeing him immediately upon business. Otto hurriedly tried 
 to pry up the tightly-nailed board, but in vain. 
 
 " I might have spared myself my trouble for the present," he 
 muttered to himself, as he attempted to draw out the chisel. 
 
 " Let the iron stay in it. Cousin Otto," Beatrice gravely 
 advised, advancing from her corner.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 73 
 
 " Yes, little Solomon, if it would not fall out." 
 
 " It must be held there." 
 
 " Held there ? For one, two, or three hours, until I re- 
 turn?" 
 
 "Why not? I'll hold it, cousin," the child said, taking 
 hold of the handle of the tool. 
 
 " You ?" laughed Otto. " It would hardly suit you, child." 
 
 He went, and upon his return, after considerably more than 
 an hour's time, he was absolutely startled to find Beatrice still 
 motionless on her knees before the chest. The chisel had 
 been too heavy for her hand, and she was supporting it upon 
 her shoulder, while, to make all sure, she had inserted her 
 fingers in the opening between the lid and the side of the box. 
 
 *' Beatrice, what are you about there ?" the baron cried, in 
 surprise. 
 
 " I am holding your chisel for you, Cousin Otto." 
 
 " My child, what an insane idea !" Arning interrupted her. 
 
 He did not know whether to laugh at the child's folly or to 
 yield to the strange unwonted sensation that came like the 
 warm breath of spring to his chilled heart and sent the moist- 
 ure to his eyes. It was certainly ridiculous to kneel motion- 
 less for an hour holding a heavy chisel in place simply to save 
 another five minutes' laboiir. But there was something so 
 unspeakably touching in the unthinking devotion prompting 
 the act on the part of so young a child, that Otto, for whom 
 the last years had been indeed barren of affection, could not 
 close his heart against it. 
 
 " You are not angry, cousin ?" Beatrice asked, as she saw 
 an unwonted expression in the eyes gazing at her in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "Angry? Certainly not. On the contrary, child, I thank 
 
 you." And ho laid his hand caressingly on her head with its 
 
 short curls. It was the first caress from her cousin that 
 
 Beatrice had ever received, and she grew crimson with delight. 
 
 D 7
 
 74 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 Thus the summer passed away. Kurt's illness progressed 
 surely but slowly ; there was even a temporary amelioration of 
 his condition. His reconciliation with Otto partially restored 
 his forces, and the good accounts received from Fraulein Nor- 
 mann of hLs child's health helped to retain him in existence. 
 
 Harvest time arrived, and brought to Buchdorf, among 
 other things, another short visit from Aunt Bernhardine. She 
 asked several times after Beatrice, and was evidently disap- 
 pointed not to find her at home. The canoness would have 
 liked to convince herself of the progress of the child's disease 
 during the past three months ; but Otto made very little men- 
 tion of the youthful heiress, being much occupied with the 
 harvest. At last Aunt Bernhardine agreed to walk through 
 the fields with him. 
 
 It was a very warm day ; the skies shone in unclouded blue) 
 but the two pedestrians nevertheless walked on briskly. Sud- 
 denly a sound of youthful shouts and laughter reached their 
 ears from a steep eminence on one side of the pathway ; on 
 its summit a troop of girls, carrying baskets and cans filled 
 with blackberries, made their appearance, while one figure de- 
 tached itself from the merry group and ran, half bounding, 
 half sliding, down the hillside until it stood directly in front 
 of the aunt and nephew. It was Beatrice, who with stained 
 lips and hands, and dress torn and scratched by the brambles, 
 triumphantly ofiiered to her cousin the basket of fruit she had 
 herself gathered. She wore no hat, and her short hair hung 
 in a tangle about her sunburned face. 
 
 " How heated you are, you little romp !" Otto said, laying 
 his hand lightly on her forehead. " What are you doing here ? 
 I thought this was lesson-time." 
 
 " Why, it is Wednesday afternoon," the child said, merrily. 
 " Take some blackberries. Cousin Otto." 
 
 Otto declined ; then added, " You forget to speak to Aunt 
 Bernhardine, and you should ofi'er her some berries."
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 75* 
 
 Beatrice turned to the canoness, and held out one hand in 
 greeting, while with the other she proffered her basket of 
 berries. 
 
 But Aunt Bernhardine accepted neither the one nor the 
 other. Her gaze was riveted upon the blooming young face, 
 that no longer showed a trace of languor or disease, and in which 
 the eyes sparkled with gay, childish merriment. Friiulein 
 von Tretten grew paler as she looked, and the gaze from her 
 piercing black orbs would better have suited an encounter with 
 an imp of darkness than with the bright, childish vision it 
 rested upon. 
 
 When Beatrice found her courtesy rejected, she turned and 
 scrambled up the hill again like a squirrel. 
 
 Otto went on with what he had been saying. " This field, 
 as I told you " 
 
 But the canoness interrupted him. Laying her hard right 
 hand heavily upon the young man's shoulder, she pointed 
 towards the hill with her left. 
 
 " What does that mean. Otto?" she asked, with suppressed 
 passion. 
 
 Otto smiled. " We have the proof there of what I told 
 you in the spring about Beatrice's health." 
 
 Aunt Bernhardine's hand dropped by her side. She looked 
 abroad over the fields yellow with grain, with their hundreds 
 of labourers busy binding the sheaves,^)ver the fair broad acres 
 which for as far around as the eye could reach belonged to the 
 romping child who had just vanished from her sight, — and 
 then she turned to her nephew. " Otto," she said, in a low 
 tone, " you are a fool." 
 
 " I know that, Aunt Bernhardine." 
 
 * * * * sf: * * 
 
 The autumn had come, the faded leaves were rustling down 
 from the trees, and Kurt von Arning, whose life had bright- 
 ened up for a brief space like the flame of a dying lamp, drew
 
 76 4 FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 his last breath placidly and painlessly. When his body 
 had been carried to its grave in a foreign soil, Theresa hastened 
 to leave Italy. She followed in eager haste the dispatch an- 
 nouncing her husband's demise, and reached Buchdorf on a 
 cold morning in November. She had sent no previous intel- 
 ligence of the time of her arrival, wishing to surprise those 
 who expected her. Such surprises, however, rarely produce 
 anything save disappointment to those concerned ; and this 
 occasion formed no exception to the rule. She could not 
 have arrived at a more unfortunate time, for her idolized Bea- 
 trice was in bed that day with a trifling cold. A most severe 
 disappointment it was for the mother, to whom her child 
 had been described as perfectly well, to find her sick and 
 in bed. 
 
 She went, of course, instantly upon her arrival to the nur- 
 sery, and, not finding Beatrice there, into the adjoining bedroom^ 
 "where, as if to fill to the brim the measure of ill fortune, she 
 found the little baroness alone and in tears. It really seemed 
 as if some evil spirit were at work here to add fuel to the 
 flame that would destroy the bridge in process of erection 
 across the gulf separating Theresa and Otto. Fate seemed 
 determined so to widen the breach that no human hand should 
 ever heal it more. 
 
 At her mother's unexpected appearance, the child, whose 
 nerves were still far from strong, burst into an hysterical fit of 
 crying. The terror with which the baroness was filled by the 
 sight of her child thus affected, deprived her of all power of 
 self-control. She was beside herself with grief and anxiety ; 
 she rang, she called, she sent for Fraulein Nermann, for the 
 nursery-maid, for Doctor Norden ; she did not know what she 
 was doing. 
 
 After a while Beatrice became more composed, and Theresa 
 learned that she had been left alone because Fraulein Ner- 
 mann was playing on the piano ; that she was crying because 
 
 7
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 77 
 
 Cousin Otto had not been to see her once that morning, and 
 that Doctor Norden had not been sent for at all. All which 
 information only fed the flame of Theresa's hatred for her 
 kinsman. 
 
 Otto, who arrived from Grasort, where he had been busied 
 since early morning, within half an hour of the baroness's ap- 
 pearance at Buchdorf, learned in the hall that she had come. 
 
 He entered Beatrice's nursery, where the baroness awaited 
 him, with a few grave words of welcome on his lips. Kurt's 
 death had moved him more deeply than he had thought pos- 
 sible after their long alienation. His old grudge against him 
 had died out ; the past was forgotten. Even his dislike of 
 the baroness was hushed for the time, and if Theresa had only 
 taken his proffered hand as it was tendered, all might have 
 been well. But she gave him no time to speak. Indignation 
 at what she supposed his faithless conduct, anxiety for her 
 child, anger that she should have humbled herself to him in 
 vain, — all these, and many other emotions less clearly defined 
 in her mind, combined to stir to its depths her passionate na- 
 ture, and unfortunately she was now entirely her own mistress. 
 There was no longer any consideration to induce her to weigh 
 her words, to curb her tongue. " My child is ill !" she ex- 
 claimed to Otto, with flashing eyes. 
 
 *' Yes," the young man replied, with composure, " a slight 
 cold." 
 
 " Slight or not slight, why is she left alone? She has been 
 complaining bitterly that you have not been near her to-day. 
 My Beatrice, sick and alone 1" 
 
 " With regard to that you must call the governess to ac- 
 count. I only undertook the management of the property." 
 
 " Must I call the governess to account also for not sending 
 for a physician to attend her? No, that was 7/ottr work, Otto. 
 I know you said you should see nothing of the child ; but, 
 nevertheless, you have put a stop to all Doctor Norden's wise 
 
 7*
 
 78 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 precautions ; you have treated my Beatrice like a peasant's child, 
 exposing her to the sun and weather, to everything that was 
 thought most injurious for her feeble condition. Can you deny 
 this?" 
 
 " Deny it?" the young baron replied, all his better nature 
 again succumbing to the old hatred ; " deny it ? No ; although 
 I confess that I could have committed no greater folly." 
 
 " Yes, yes, it would be vain to attempt denial," the baron- 
 ess began again. " Fraulein Normann, and even the most 
 stupid servants in the house, have complained to me of your 
 conduct. I know all that you have done in my absence, and I 
 know now why you did it, and why you made me promise on no 
 account to hold you responsible for whatever might occur. I 
 thank God that I am in time to save my child !" 
 
 " Madame," Otto rejoined, his brow dark with anger, " you 
 forget to whom you speak." 
 
 " To whom I speak !" the baroness exclaimed. " I speak to 
 
 a man who, could I but have adduced the smallest proof " 
 
 She hesitated, terrified at her own temerity. 
 
 " Who what?" the bai'on insisted, while such lightning shot 
 from his dark eyes that even Theresa paused for a moment 
 undecided. 
 
 " Who, could I have adduced the smallest proof, would not 
 six years ago have escaped the penalty he deserved," she rashly 
 concluded her sentence. 
 
 " Enough," Otto haughtily replied. " Your friendship, 
 madame, I have never desired, and my cousin's death has 
 severed the only tie between us. From this hour we are 
 strangers ; for your sake, I trust we may never meet again." 
 
 " No, no 1 you shall not go away," Beatrice cried aloud. 
 She had been standing for some minutes on the threshold of 
 her bedroom, listening to what was passing. 
 
 "What! you here too, little viper!" Otto exclaimed, trying 
 to extricate himself from the child's despairing embrace.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 79 
 
 " You will go to Ermsdal," she cried, weeping, " and you 
 will never come here again across that dreadful moor. Do 
 not, ah, do not at least leave me so, — say good-bye. Cousin 
 Otto. I have not been a naughty girl." 
 
 But he pushed the child from him with a degree of violence. 
 She sank on the floor, and he left the room and the house. 
 
 Theresa carried the weeping child back to bed. Doctor 
 Norden came, and had much to say in disapproval of Otto and 
 his medical skill ; but as he was an honest man he could not 
 deny that Beatrice had been very well during the summer, nor 
 could he discover in her present ailment anything more alarm- 
 ing than a feverish cold. He allowed her to leave her bed 
 immediately. For the first time in months she was carefully 
 dressed in silk and velvet. But the child did nothing all day 
 long but ask for Cousin Otto, until at last Theresa, to quiet 
 her, assured her that she would see him and ask him to return. 
 
 The evening of this agitating day found Otto once more 
 pacing to and fro in the hall at Ermsdal. The rain again fell 
 in torrents, the wind howled and shrieked louder than on the 
 evening when Kurt's letter had arrived, and between the two 
 days lay spring, summer, autumn, and one more bitter ex- 
 perience. 
 
 In spite of the huge crackling fire of logs in the rude chim- 
 ney, it was bitter cold in the hall ; but the chill did not reach 
 the young baron. The student-lamp still stood upon the 
 oaken table, but beside it now lay, instead of Kurt's letter, a 
 brace of pistols. The ghostly shadow of Otto's restless figure 
 flitted to and fro on the rough walls; now and then he laughed 
 harshly; at last he paused. "Fool!" he cried, striking lis 
 forehead with his clenched fist. " Yes, Aunt Bernhardine, you 
 are right I was a fool, — an unutterable fool !" 
 
 Slowly and clumsily the huge hall door leading cut of the 
 house opened at this moment; a cold blast of wind drove in 
 the falling rain, and the slender figure of a child appeared
 
 80 A FA MIL r FEUD. 
 
 upon the threshold. Otto turned towards it, gazed for an in- 
 stant at the intruder, and then raised the lamp as if unable to 
 trust his eyes. But they had not deceived him. Beatrice von 
 Arning was standing timidly on the threshold, without hat 
 or outside covering, looking at him with a world of reproach 
 in her large eyes. The rain was dripping from her blue 
 silk dress, and her dark curls clung about her brow. 
 
 "Beatrice! Good God, how came you here?" 
 
 " Across the moor," the child replied, exhausted. " I told you 
 I would come. Why did you go away without bidding me good- 
 bye, Cousin Otto?" she went on, with tears in her dark eyes. 
 " What have I done to you to make you so angry with me?" 
 
 "Across the moor?" Otto repeated, as in a dream. Not a 
 peasant in Ermsdal ventured without extreme caution to cross 
 the dangerous tract which this mere child had just traversed 
 in the dark, stormy night, "Across the moor? To say good- 
 bye — to me?" 
 
 Involuntarily he stooped and caught her to his heart. He 
 kissed her forehead, her lips, her eyes ; he had never done so 
 before. But for the moment he forgot his past life, all that 
 lay between himself and Buchdorf; he forgot that it was 
 Theresa's child whom he held in his arms. He felt trans- 
 ported to another and a better world, so intoxicating was the 
 child's affectionate devotion to his staived heart. He closed 
 the door and sat down with the child on his lap, stroking her 
 wet hair tenderly as she nestled her head upon his shoulder. 
 
 "You are not angry with me now, Cousin Otto?" she 
 asked, softly. 
 
 He pressed her closer in his arms. " Who could be angry 
 with you?" he said, tenderly. " How you are shivering, my 
 poor little darling ! It must have been cold and stormy on the 
 moor." 
 
 "Yes, but I was not afraid. I- knew that I was coming to 
 you."
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 81 
 
 "My brave little girl!" 
 
 The old housekeeper entered. "Good gracious!" she ex- 
 claimed in amazement. " How came the little mistress of 
 Buchdorf here?" 
 
 "Of Buchdorf " The word that bioke the spell was 
 
 spoken — Otto was himself again. 
 
 " Yes," he said, rising, " the child came here to see me. 
 Heaven knows how she found the way. Put her to bed, 
 Dora, and make her a cup of warm weak tea to keep her from 
 taking cold. Go with Dora, Beatrice." 
 
 "But you will come up and see me, Cousin Otto," she 
 begged, "or I will not leave you." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I will come by and by. Go, and be a good 
 girl, Beatrice." 
 
 But the little baroness waited in vain for Otto's promised 
 visit. Hatred and defiance had again taken up their abode 
 in his heart. 
 
 When Dora entered the hall at five o'clock the next morn- 
 ing, she found her master in his hunting-dress, loading his 
 rifle. 
 
 The old housekeeper had learned to read the baron's face 
 too well not to know that the frown on his brow boded no 
 good. 
 
 " The Herr Baron is going to hunt to-day ?" sbe asked. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Will the Herr Baron be back by noon?" 
 
 "I do not know." 
 
 " What is to be done with the child up-stairs, Herr Baron ?" 
 
 "Have it taken home," Otto replied, throwing his rifle 
 across his shoulder. "Hire the innkeeper's vehicle, let Klaus 
 put on his old livery coat, and tell him to harness the four 
 grays." 
 
 ^'Four horses, Herr Baron?" 
 
 " Four horses."
 
 82 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 "Excuse mc, Herr Baron, but tlie men are just " 
 
 " Four horses, I say," Otto repeated, in a tone and with a 
 look that caused the words to die on Dora's lips. "The noble 
 baroness must be conducted to her home with all due honour," 
 he added, bitterly, in an undertone. 
 
 The housekeeper hesitated a moment. 
 
 " Will not the Herr Baron go up-stairs before he leaves the 
 house?" 
 
 "What for — why should I go up-stairs?" 
 
 "Ah, the child has moaned and cried all night long 
 because the Herr Baron did not come up as he promised. 
 And she is such a dear little thing! And since she came 
 all that way in the stormy night — I should think — the Herr 
 Baron " 
 
 "Silence!" And Otto stamped his foot on the stone floor. 
 " I do not choose to see her. Take good care that she is gone 
 
 by the time I return, or " The rest of the sentence was 
 
 drowned in the crashing to of the heavy oaken door as he 
 went out. 
 
 Dora went up-stairs again, shaking her head. 
 
 " He will not come, my pretty pet," she said to Beatrice. 
 " But don't fret. He's in such a temper that he's no loss." 
 
 Then she went to obey Otto's orders ; and an hour later, in 
 spite of her tears and straggles, in spite of her entreaties to be 
 allowed to see Cousin Otto once more, poor Beatrice was put 
 into the coach and carried back by the four horses to Buch- 
 dorf.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 83 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Nine years had passed since Kurt's death. Otto had re- 
 fused to accept either Grasort or the guardianship of Beatrice, 
 although both had been bequeathed to him by Kurt, whose 
 final testament, however, was to be first opened and read upon 
 Beatrice's eighteenth birthday, — an occasion to which Theresa 
 looked forward with much anxiety. The relations with Otto 
 remained the same ; incredible as it may appear, they had not 
 once met during this long term of years. In fact, the relative 
 situation of the two estates made it quite easy for the owner 
 of each to avoid the other, for although not far removed from 
 Buchdorf in a direct line, Ermsdal could only be reached, on 
 account of the moor, by a circuitous route through Harsbye, 
 Grasort, and Wingen. In addition to this the baroness had 
 at various times spent many years in foreign countries, while 
 Otto never left his home except for a visit to the capital. 
 
 In the new dwelling which he had built for himself, and 
 which had little to distinguish it from the abodes of the 
 peasants around it, he led as lonely and misanthropic an ex- 
 istence as in the ruined castle of old. His increasing wealth 
 brought no change in his habits of life. Aunt Beruhardine, 
 who had been living beneath his roof for some years, ordered 
 his small household with great frugality and economy. 
 
 Frau von Arning had spent the previous winter in Rome. 
 During the early summer she had been travelling in Switzer- 
 land, and she would have returned thence to Italy, but that 
 .slie cnaM not withstand Beatrice's longing desire to see her 
 liome again. 
 
 Theresa dreaded a German winter; she was excessively
 
 84 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 fond of art, of society, anrl of pleasure, and could not think 
 without a shudder of the wind and snow that made her 
 Northern home at times so bleak and bare. She could not 
 conceive how a young girl could long for so unfriendly a spot, 
 and had no comprehension of the feeling of reverential de- 
 votion which attracted her child to the soil where her ancestors 
 had resided for many generations. Theresa, however, was too 
 affectionate a mother to disregard her daughter's desire, and 
 thus with a heavy heart she resolved upon returning to 
 Buchdorf. 
 
 She had secured a pleasant companion for the journey in 
 Emil von Lindau, the son of one of her early friends. Frau 
 von Arning had met him in Switzerland, whither he had gone, 
 it was said, for the sake of his health, since his mamma had 
 one day discovered that her only son looked pale and languid. 
 His father, who occupied an important post under govern- 
 ment, procured him a several months' leave of absence, and 
 Emil with great satisfaction carried his real or fancied ill 
 health and his twenty-one years to Switzerland. 
 
 He was really a good young fellow, too young in many re- 
 spects to be left entirely his own master, still rather too much 
 tied to his mother's apron-string to be extremely interesting; 
 but so well-bred, with so much conventional polish, that the 
 baroness, who perhaps overvalued these qualities, became really 
 fond of him, especially since her decided, rather imperious 
 nature gladly gave the law to those about her. Beatrice, 
 too, was very well pleased with their new acquaintance, and 
 therefore the baroness invited the young man to spend what 
 remained of his leave of absence at Buchdorf, an invitation 
 which Emil accepted with all the more eagerness fi-om the fact 
 that his finances were just at present at a low ebb ; also he 
 was, as indeed was but natural, desperately enamoured of the 
 young baroness. Theresa marked this with a favourable eye. 
 She was not avaricious, so f^mil's 'ack of fortune was no dis-
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 85 
 
 advantage in her eyes. Beatrice was rich enough. What 
 Frau von Arning desired in the husband of her child was a 
 true honest heart, an ancient name, and good breeding, and 
 Emil von Liudau appeared to unite in his person all these 
 requirements. His youth, too, was in his favour, since she 
 might easily mould him to her will. 
 
 Late on a lovely August afternoon, the coach conveying 
 the travellers from the railway-station drove along the shady 
 Buchdorf avenue towards the vine-wreathed terrace, where the 
 steward, dressed with exceeding elegance, a crimson rose in 
 his button-hole, stood waiting to receive them. It was the 
 same Warne who, fifteen years before, had testified so un- 
 favourably upon Otto's trial. In spite of his forty years he 
 would have been thought strikingly handsome by all who rank 
 beauty of feature beyond that of expression. The dark -blue 
 eyes that habitually sought the ground beneath their fringe of 
 black lashes, the thick fair hair above the white if not broad 
 forehead, the whole type of feature, certainly attracted although 
 they did not rivet admiration. Herr von Tannen, nevertheless, 
 an old friend and youthful playmate of the deceased baron's, 
 always shook his head gravely at mention of Heinrich Warne's 
 beauty. Tannen was no friend of the steward's, and had often 
 cautioned Theresa against him and his negligent administration 
 of her afiairs ; but Frau von Arning was of so independent a 
 character that she never mistrusted her own judgment, even in 
 matters of which she necessarily knew but little ; in addition 
 to which, Tannen's opinion bore but small weight with her, 
 since he had always been a warm friend and advocate of 
 young Arning, to whose father he had been much attached. 
 She reposed a blind confidence in her steward's honesty and 
 ability. Warne gradually became her councillor, her minister 
 of finance, her factotum in short, and as constancy was one 
 of her leading traits, nothing less than proofs clear as daylight 
 of his uutrustworthiuess could have robbed him of her favour
 
 86 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 Besides all this, Heinrich Warne was personally much to 
 the baroness's taste: he was very punctual, always dressed 
 with great elegance, never appeared in her drawing-room 
 with muddy boots, always had plenty of time when she needed 
 him, or wished him to drive with her, and plenty of money 
 if she required it, never troubling her with accounts, deeds, 
 purchases, or sales. Not that Theresa could ever have taken 
 a very warm personal interest in the man ; but his repose 
 of manner, his courtesy, his silent resolute demeanour, 
 pleased her because they added to the comfort of her house- 
 hold. 
 
 The carriage stopped, and the baroness descended with the 
 queenly bearing that characterized her every movement. Ex- 
 cept for two slight wrinkles that showed upon her white fore- 
 head, Theresa had scarcely altered in the last ten years, and her 
 beauty was enchanting as she greeted the steward with kindly 
 grace, in which there was, it is true, an admixture of con- 
 descension. But it was not upon her that his glance rested ; 
 it turned with admiring surprise to Beatrice, who, refusing 
 Lindau's aid, sprang from the carriage and with frank 
 cordiality held out her ungloved hand to Warne. 
 
 " Here we are at home once more, Herr Warne," she cried, 
 gaily ; " now there will be all sorts of confusion and disorder 
 in your quiet kingdom. Yes, yes, you may well be dismayed. 
 I, for one, am come back with the firm determination to give 
 you no end of trouble. To-morrow, to begin with, you must 
 show me everything that has undergone even the slightest 
 change in my beloved Buchdorf. I must see everything. 
 How are Hans and Liese, and the new colts ? Is old Hector 
 alive still?" 
 
 " But, my child," Theresa smilingly interposed, " Herr 
 Warne cannot answer three questions at a tune. We must 
 first recover from the fatigue of our journey, and to-morrow 
 we will take every thing in due order. Herr Warue, let me
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 87 
 
 introduce my young friend Ilerr von Lindau, who will give ua 
 the pleasure of his society for a few weeks." 
 
 The two gentlemen bowed rather stiffly. 
 
 All had meanwhile been traversing the wide hall, and now 
 entered the dining-room where was spread an inviting repast. 
 Beatrice did not deign it a look, but running to the glass door 
 leading directly into the park, she opened it wide. "Oh, my 
 park, my darling park, how I have longed for you !" she cried, 
 between laughter and tears. " Forgive me, dearest mamma, but 
 indeed I must take one look at it to-night." 
 
 " Dear child, are you not tii-ed then ?" the baroness asked, 
 as she looked after her daughter hurrying out beneath the 
 trees. The girl's exclamations showed such a fulness of de- 
 light that the mother felt more than repaid for the sacrifice 
 she had made in returning to the solitude of her estate. In- 
 voluntarily, as she gazed out into the park, the past rose before 
 her mind. How often had her weary, despairing eyes rested 
 upon that fresh green turf, those majestic trees, as she sat by 
 the bedside of her sick darling ! Oh, how much happier she 
 was now ! What was her life in Italy in comparison with her 
 child's health and happiness ? Involuntarily she clasped her 
 hands in something like a prayer of gratitude. But of the 
 man to whom, under God, she owed her child's life, she 
 thought not at all, or only with hatred and bitterness. 
 
 Beatrice meanwhile hurried along the well-kept paths with 
 outstretched arms. She could have kissed the trees and 
 shrubs ; did not every step recall some happy scene of her 
 childhood? Ah, she had reached the little lake ; in its smooth 
 surface the tall silver poplars were mirrored, and the weeping 
 willows dipped their drooping boughs into the placid water. 
 Through the trees shone the crimson light dying in the west 
 and ijow and then tinging with a rosy hue the white plumage 
 of the swans as they glided from shore to shore. On the 
 other side of the lake, where formerly a mass of dark shrub- 
 
 <«
 
 88 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 bcry luid given rather a gloomy and confined aspect to the 
 scene, there lay before the girl's admiring eyes a stretch of 
 grassy lawn sprinkled here and there with flower-beds and 
 extending to the foot of the little hill crowned by the Chinese 
 summer-house. Beatrice stood still, and could not refrain 
 from an exclamation of delight and surprise. " Oh, how 
 lovely it is here !" she murmured, half unconsciously, then 
 turned startled as a deep voice close beside her said, " I am 
 extremely glad, Fraulein von Arning, that the improve- 
 ments meet your approval. To confess the truth, I feared 
 lest the change which I have made here might displease 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, Herr Warne," the young girl exclaimed, recovering 
 herself, " how you frightened me!" 
 
 Warne exhausted himself in apologies ; he had followed 
 Friiulein von Arning to point out to her the alterations he 
 had ventured to make, and he was excessively sorry 
 
 " Never mind," Beatrice interrupted him ; " after all, it is 
 my fault for being so easily startled. But you wanted to tell 
 me about this, and I am dying with curiosity. Why do 
 you hesitate, and look at me as if you were afraid I was not 
 myself? I assure you I am the real Beatrice." 
 
 " I do not doubt it," Warne said, with a smile, without 
 however turning his eyes from his young mistress ; " but yet 
 you are not precisely the same young lady who left Buchdorf 
 a few years ago. I fear that my information which was des- 
 tined for the child Beatrice will possess but small interest for 
 Fraulein von Arning." 
 
 " Oh, yes, you find me altered," the young baroness said, 
 gaily. " Mamma says so too. I have grown, and wear a 
 train, very long, as you see, and very uncomfortable, as I can 
 tell you, but in all else, believe me, I am the same old Beatrice, 
 who longs to know, to begin with, how my dear Ami is." 
 
 " Your deer is as tame as ever," the steward replied " I
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 89 
 
 have fed it every morning myself, and in a few days it will 
 know you as of old." 
 
 " That was kind of you, Ilerr Warne," Beatrice said, cor- 
 dially, " and I thank you." 
 
 " The Frau Baroness sends me," said Emil von Lindau, 
 who made his appearance at this moment with a paper in his 
 hand, " to entreat you to come into the house, as she is afraid 
 the evening air may give you cold, Fr'dulein von Arning." 
 
 " We are coming," Beatrice replied. " What have you there, 
 Herr von Lindau ? Have you had so sudden an access of 
 sketching fever that you are going on this first evening to 
 caricature our poor little lake ? — which in f\ct deserves to be 
 reproduced by a genuine artist," she added, in a graver tone, 
 her eyes drinking in the beauty before her. 
 
 " I only paint flowers ; I have never attempted landscape," 
 Lindau replied with a rather aggrieved air. " Yes, yes, laugh 
 as you will, but wait until I have finished decorating your fan. 
 I assure you I was quite famous for my flowers in society last 
 ■winter, and I should have spent every day and all day long in 
 painting roses and forget-me-nots on the fans of my partners 
 in the cotillion if my mother had not begged me to employ 
 my time more usefully. But this paper is, as you see, a very 
 innocent telegraphic dispatch to inform my mother of our safe 
 arrival, and I shall be very much obliged to you, Herr Warne, 
 
 if you will see that it is sent immediately to M , for I 
 
 forgot to leave it as we passed through." 
 
 Warne, who had been watching the two young people from 
 beneath his drooping lids with a strange expression, off'ercd to 
 
 ride himself to M with the dispatch, and Lindau would 
 
 have accepted the service as a matter of course, had not Bea- 
 trice decidedly objected. " By no means, Herr Warne. Any 
 
 groom can take it to M . You would not leave us alone 
 
 on the very first evening of our arrival ? Herr von Lindau," 
 she said, in an undertone, as the steward withdrew, " Warne 
 
 8*
 
 90 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 Las been more than twenty years in our family, and Is con- 
 sidered quite as a member of it. Do not take advantage of 
 his modesty to accept services from him which it really is not 
 his duty to perform." 
 
 A few hours afterwards profound silence reigned throughout 
 the house. The whole family had withdrawn to their various 
 apartments. Tlie baroness, really fatigued by her journey, was 
 asleep. Beatrice was sitting in an arm-chair before the open 
 window of her pretty room, a room chosen in an upper story 
 for the sake of the charming prospect, gazing out in a state 
 of dreamy beatitude over the moonlit park. Emil, who was 
 wanting in any genuine love of nature, had closed his window 
 and drawn the curtain, and was sitting at a table covered with 
 sheets of paper of all sizes, each bearing an almost undecipher- 
 able and therefore entirely irreproachable monogram. The 
 young man's costly portfolio lay open before him, and, with a 
 pen the elaborate carving on the handle of which must have 
 made any comfort in writing impossible, was inditing a letter 
 to his mamma. 
 
 Warne also had closed his shutters, not so much to exclude 
 the moonlight as because he liked to be secure in his own 
 room from prying glances. The lamp was burning upon a 
 clumsy table covered with bills, books, and unopened letters, 
 all which the steward did not appear to see, although his eyes 
 were now as wide open as the eyes of men usually are. A 
 cigar in his mouth, his hands clasped behind him, he noise- 
 lessly paced his room to and fro with a step as regular as the 
 ticking of the old cuckoo-clock that hung on the wall above 
 the writing-table. This clock had once hung in Otto's sanctum, 
 and only after the old baron's death, when the baroness had re- 
 arranged and refurnished the entire house, had it been trans- 
 ferred to the steward's room. Now, Warne was a man of nerve 
 and resolution, not at all prone to superstition ; he had not ojv 
 posed the hanging of the clock in its present place, and yet it
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 91 
 
 would be false to maiutain that lie had any special liking for 
 this memento of young Von Arning, Every time the monot- 
 onous cuckoo struck the hour it reminded him of the morning 
 when, as he listened to the cry of this bird in the forest, he 
 had resolved upon a lie which forever turned his path in life 
 aside from that of truth and honour. The steward's con- 
 science possessed, it is true, great elasticity, and any other 
 crime save that of perjury would scarcely have troubled his 
 lightest slumber, but the solemn penalty of expulsion from 
 eternal mercy in this world and the next attached to this 
 crime would continually, though vaguely, occur to him among 
 the mysterious memories of childhood that often haunt a 
 man's after-years. He never had repented the act, but he 
 avoided in every way possible any recurrence to it in his 
 mind. 
 
 " A prudent woman is the baroness," he muttered to himself, 
 interrupting his gloomy reverie. " Her talent is undeniable. 
 A very pretty pattern of a son-in»law, this, which she has de- 
 vised ; not quite formed yet, to be sure, but the right stuff, — 
 can be controlled, revised, and corrected ! Hm ! But the little 
 Friiulein has a will of her own, and my insignificance ciuinot 
 be left out of the game." 
 
 He thoughtfully blew forth a cloud of tobacco-smoke. " I 
 suppose the betrothal is to take place before the eleventh of 
 November," he continued. " If I only knew what the old 
 fool's idea was with his two wills! No one can tell what 
 atonement the old man may have taken it into his foolish head 
 to make to that fellow at Ermsdal ; and the baroness evidently 
 feels a little shaky, and bethinks her that no commands either 
 of the dead or living can interfere with a husband's authority. 
 Bravo, my lady ! Well schemed ! But, my much revered 
 Frau von Arning, I do not consent. It is too speedy a con- 
 clusion of affairs. I should lose the results of the labour of 
 years ; and then, by heaven ! I grudge the girl to that brainless
 
 92 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 fop. Of course she must and will marry some time, and my 
 best days are past — stay I" 
 
 He struck his forehead with his open palm, took one or two 
 hasty turns through the apartment, and then paused before 
 the large mirror that hung on t\te wall, its broad, richly-carved 
 gilt frame tarnished with age and tobacco-smoke. The glass, 
 liovrever, was as clear as ever, and reflected with great distinct- 
 ness the steward's figure standing in the full light of the lamp 
 in evening dress, with the half-withered rose in his button-hole. 
 Heinrich Warne, careful though he was as to his personal 
 adornment, was no fop ; the steady and minute inspection 
 which he now accorded to his face and figure was made with 
 strict impartiality, and he could not but perceive that as yet 
 his years had left no trace upon his brow, and that he might 
 safely enter the lists with a much younger man. With a sigh 
 of relief he turned away, drew aside the curtain, and opened 
 his window. Between the trees he could catch the shimmer 
 of moonlight on the little lake, — a picture of peaceful repose. 
 
 " Yes, Buchdorf is beautiful !" Warne murmured, with a 
 slight smile. " The young baroness is right to cling to it. 
 I share her preference, and will do my best to remain here 
 always." 
 
 " Cuckoo !" came at this moment from Otto's clock upou 
 the wall. Warne turned pale, and started as if at some ghostly 
 warning. " Curse it 1" he muttered. He dropped the cmtain 
 which he was holding aside, and mounting a chair stopped the 
 small piece of machinery that aroused such disagreeable mem- 
 ories in his mind.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD 93 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The afternoon was warm upon which, several days after her 
 return home, the baroness was sitting on the shady terrace be- 
 fore an inviting tea-table, looking across the book she held in 
 her hand towards where Beatrice was playing croquet on the 
 lawn with Herr von Lindau, and whence peals of girlish 
 laughter came floating in delicious music to her mother's ears. 
 Opposite Theresa, at the other end of the terrace, sat Warne, 
 silent, quiet, his eyes cast down as usual, thoughtfully smoking 
 his cigar. 
 
 " Will you have another cup of coffee, Herr Warne ?" the 
 baroness called to him. 
 
 " I thank you, no, madame." Then, after a pause, " I am 
 really sorry to trouble you with business so soon after your 
 return, but I have some deeds of sale and other papers that 
 require your signature. I am afraid I shall have to trouble 
 you frequently in this way for a while." 
 
 " Can I not give you some more of those signed formulas?" 
 Theresa asked. " The whole thing is a mere form ; the man- 
 agement of the property is entirely in your hands, and of 
 course I will sign whatever you think proper." 
 
 " The method you propose is perfectly feasible, madame, 
 provided indeed that you do not wish first to read " 
 
 " What I cannot understand," Theresa completed his sen- 
 tence. " No, Herr Warne, I would have every one fulfil the 
 duty given him to do ; but for a person entirely ignorant of 
 business to undertake to examine and test what has been pre- 
 pared by another of thorough business knowledge and capa- 
 city, seems to me both folly and waste of time. So bring me 
 this evening as many blank formulas as you want, and I will
 
 94 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 return them to you with my signature to-morrow morning." 
 Warne bowed, 
 
 " What do you think, mamma!" Beatrice exclaimed at this 
 moment, running up the broad steps of the terrace, her croquet 
 mallet in her hand ; " Herr von Lindau is bored here ! No, 
 don't deny it," she continued, turning to the young officer, who 
 followed her slowly and looking very much heated, " 1 plainly 
 saw your face grow longer and longer in spite of my efforts to 
 make the game interesting. For a punishment you must now 
 take a ride." 
 
 " It would be a reward if you would let me accompany 
 you," Lindau rejoined, with an admiring gaze at his com- 
 panion, who took off her broad straw hat and pushed back the 
 short curls that would lie in rings about her brow and temples, 
 while the rest of her chestnut hair was simply coiled in braids 
 about her graceful head. 
 
 " I cannot ride Ali, any more," she said, in reply to Lin- 
 dau's request. " He has grown so fat and lazy. I must have 
 a new riding-horse." 
 
 " Not a very modest wish, my darling," said the baroness. 
 " I hardly know whether it can be gratified this year. We 
 have had to spend a great deal of money. W^hat do you say, 
 Herr Warne ? Did you not tell me the harvest had been very 
 poor?" 
 
 " I did ; but there is really no reason why any desire of 
 Fraulein von Arning's should not be complied with, especially 
 if Ali, who is not so worthless as she seems to suppose, is 
 sold " 
 
 " That shall not be," the young girl interrupted him, de- 
 cidedly. " I would rather have no ridiug-horse. What! sell 
 a creature who has given me so many delightful hours 1 To 
 some hackman perhaps in town, where he will be driven 
 to death ! No, no, Ali shall be taken care of in his old 
 age."
 
 A FAMILY- FEUD. 95 
 
 " It would be cruel to deny anything to such an angel of 
 pity as Friiulein von Arning," the steward rejoined. 
 
 The baroness thought her daughter's view of the matter 
 unpractical, but was so charmed with the tender heart that 
 dictated the words that she did not gainsay them. Hcrr 
 von Lindau, however, said, drily, " If these views are to 
 rule your conduct, Friiulein von Arning, Buchdorf will in 
 a few years be a perfect hospital for sick horses and cows. 
 It is a fine thing to have the means of gi-atifying such 
 tastes." 
 
 "How disagreeable you are!" Beatrice pouted; "you say 
 that because you have to ride alone " 
 
 " I will go order your horse to be saddled, Herr Baron," 
 said the steward, rising, and leaving the terrace. 
 
 " Thanks," Lindau called after him. " There is no hope 
 then of your accompanying me, Friiulein von Arning ?" 
 
 " I will come and see you mount." 
 
 " That is small consolation," the young officer remarked, as 
 he followed Warne. 
 
 " Do you know, mamma," said Beatrice, thoughtfully, when 
 he had gone, " that I should Kke our steward much better if 
 he were not so very officious? Why should he trouble him- 
 self about the horse of a man who always treats him with 
 arrogance ?" 
 
 Many a plan Ls' brought to naught by the pride and insolence 
 of its author; the rock upon which Warne's schemes were 
 shattered was servility. 
 
 As soon as Emil had vanished down the avenue, Beatrice 
 went to her room to get gloves and parasol ; then, tying on her 
 hat, she left the house, sending a servant to acquaint Frau 
 von Arning with her departure. 
 
 She longed for one of the lonely walks in which from her 
 childhood she had so delighted. She wished to revisit Ee- 
 pach, a neighbouring estate, fiimous for its beautiful forests,
 
 96 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 belonging to an elderly man who was always absent and had 
 been long trying in vain to dispose of it. 
 
 At the end of half an hour she found herself in the cool, 
 shady wood-paths. Beatrice drew a deep sigh of pleasure, 
 and gathering up her light summer-dress walked lightly over 
 the green carpet of moss, where thesunlight lay here and there 
 in golden flecks. It was her favourite walk ; here she had 
 never encountered a human being, and the birds seemed to 
 sing more gaily aud clearly in this solitude than in the more 
 frequented parts of the woodland. She turned aside into the 
 thicket, passing lightly through its depths, bending back the 
 boughs that barred her way, until she saw before her a small, 
 turfy opening, in the centre of which grew a mighty oak-tree, 
 one of those giants of the forest which are becoming rarer 
 every day. The country-people called it the king oak, and it 
 did, in fact, look as if the smaller trees and shrubs had reve- 
 rentially retired from about their monarch, forming the nearly 
 circular opening which Beatrice had thus reached. Opposite 
 her, on the edge of the forest, she saw a deer ; she would have 
 known him among a thousand. " Ami !" she called, surprised 
 and pleased. 
 
 The animal started at the sound of the well-known voice, 
 and turned his slender head in the direction whence the call 
 proceeded. At that moment a shot was heard ; Ami made 
 one or two bounds to reach his mistress, and then sank help- 
 less on the ground, while Beatrice, filled with indignation and 
 sorrow, hastened to the poor creature's side. 
 
 " How dare you shoot on Herr von Stade's ground ?" she 
 said, anger flashing from her eyes, to the unknown huntsman, 
 who now made his appearance from the forest, his gun in one 
 hand and holding back his dog with the other. " I will see 
 to it that you do not go unpunished." 
 
 " You are mistaken, Frliulein von ^rning. I am no 
 poacher; I am shooting upon my own domain," the stranger
 
 A FA MIL r FEUD. 97 
 
 replied, advancing with a slight salutation. " Repach has just 
 been sold." 
 
 " Sold ?" Beatrice repeated, incredulously. 
 
 " The intelligence seems to surprise you," the huntsman 
 remarked. " It chances that I can give you proof of my asser- 
 tion. Lie down, Juno !" The last words quieted his dog, 
 who seemed desirous of rushing upon the wounded deer. The 
 etranger opened his wallet and took thence a paper which he 
 handed, with a slight smile, to his angry opponent. Beatrice 
 took it impatiently and read upon the outside, " Deed of sale 
 concluded August 15, 18 — , between Herr George von Stade 
 and Otto, Freiherr von Arning " 
 
 She read no further, but raised her eyes in troubled inquiry 
 to the supposed poacher, and a sudden light dawned upon her 
 soul. Yes, it was Otto von Arning. How could she have 
 been so blind as not to recognize him at the first glance? 
 
 For nine years she had been taught sedulously to avoid all 
 encounter with her dreaded cousin Otto, only to come upon 
 him now in so extremely undesirable a manner. She grew 
 very pale, and, not daring to look up, could not see the ex- 
 pression of bitter impatience that her evident terror called forth 
 on the baron's countenance. He waited for a few moments ; 
 then, seeing that the young girl still maintained an embar- 
 rassed silence, he said, calmly, " Are you satisfied, Friiulcin 
 von Arning?" 
 
 Beatrice recovered herself, and handed him the paper. 
 
 " Yes, I see that you are in the right," she said, sadly, 
 " and that all that I can do is to apologize for ray violence, and 
 - -try to forget my poor Ami," she added, her eyes filling with 
 tears as she looked at the deer, whose large eyes, as he gazed 
 at his mistress, were filled with mute reproach and entreaty. 
 
 " Is it a tame deer?" Otto asked, surprised. " Oh, this I 
 never meant ! I am Accessively sorry." 
 
 Beatrice kneeled on the grass beside her favourite and 
 E 9
 
 98 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 stroked its head. " Ouly this iiioruing it ate from my haud, 
 
 and it was running to meet me when " She sprang up. 
 
 " Kill it, Herr vou Arning," she said, with tear-dimmed eyes. 
 " At least put it out of its pain." 
 
 Otto approached the animal, the poor thing making a vain 
 attempt to rise as he did .so. 
 
 " I do not think I have wounded it mortally," he said, " Let 
 me see." And, leaning his gun against the trunk of the oak- 
 tree, he began carefully to examine the wound. 
 
 Beatrice had recovered from the first shock of her surprise. 
 She ventured to observe this man whom she had heard ^o 
 maligned more attentively, that she might compare the reality 
 with the image which her memory still retained. Otto had 
 greatly altered in the last nine years ; his features wore more 
 decided ; his eyes had become larger and darker ; but what 
 struck his young cousin more forcibly than all else was the 
 expression of repressed but settled melancholy that charac- 
 terized his face, and filled her, she could hardly tell why, with 
 the deepest sympathy. 
 
 Meanwhile, Otto finished his examination, and turning to 
 her with a faint smile, " Reassure yourself, Fraulein voa 
 Arning," he said; "the wound is not serious ; your favourite 
 will certainly live." 
 
 " Really ? Oh, thanks ; a thousand thanks 1" Beatrice cried, 
 her eyes sparkling with joy. " Do you hear. Ami ? we shall 
 have many a ramble together !" 
 
 Otto proceeded to tear his handkerchief into bandages with 
 which he bound up the wound, while Beati-ice by her caresses 
 induced the deer to lie quiet. When Von Arning had finished, 
 he arose and took the animal- in his arms. 
 
 "What are you going to do?" the young baroness asked, 
 looking up at him with eyes of childish wonder. 
 
 " Take my patient to the nearest peasant hut. It must not 
 stay here in the forest."
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 99 
 
 Beatrice could not remember any dwelling near at hand, but 
 she nevertheless followed him. She was a brave girl at heart, 
 and it had required years of warning and admonition from her 
 mother and governess before the image of the cousin she had 
 so loved had been converted into the bugbear of her imagina- 
 tion. Now that he stood beside her, she smiled at her fancied 
 fears. In the light of reality, the broad sunshine, her com- 
 panion's quiet words and demeanour, banished every foolish 
 phantom of her imagination. 
 
 The trees grew sparse, the borders of the forest were soon 
 reached, and the pair emerged upon a strip of meadow-land 
 bordering the moor. Just at its edge there was a stunted 
 birch-tree beside a low hut with crumbling mud walls and 
 an old straw-thatched roof. The baron directed his steps 
 towards it. Beatrice involuntarily hesitated an instant. 
 
 " Brown Elsie's hut," she said, timidly, not venturing di- 
 rectly to oppose the baron. " Do you think Ami will be well 
 taken care of there?" 
 
 " Why not there as well as in any other peasant hut?" Otto 
 asked in return. 
 
 " I do not know, but I think it would be better not to en- 
 trust him to Brown Elsie. I remember her in my childhood. 
 She used to tie threads to the poor beetles, and always abused 
 us or threw stones at us. No one liked her, and we used 
 to chase her whenever we saw her, — vainly, of course. She 
 could run much faster than any of us. I have not seen her 
 for years, nor her grandmother, the old fortune-teller ; but no 
 one speaks well of them ; they are dreaded by the people about 
 here." 
 
 " Outcasts !" From Otto's lips the word came with so 
 strange an emphasis that Beatrice looked up in surprise, but 
 the baron, apparently, did not observe her look. With a 
 ghrug, ho continued, " And yet Elsbeth is the prettiest girl 
 in all Ermsdal, and might have been just like other people
 
 100 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 if slic hud been treated with a little affection and a little 
 patience." 
 
 " You know her?'' Beatrice quickly asked. 
 
 " I know every one upon my land." 
 
 They had reached the hut, and Otto pushed open the huge 
 door that occupied almost the entire wall. Small and poor ».■» 
 the structure was, it was precisely similar in arrangement to 
 all other peasant abodes in that part of the country. You 
 entered by the " Fleet," or outer passage, where, instead of 
 the cattle-stalls on either side to be found in the house of 
 every well-to-do peasant, lay heaped willow-withes, potatoes, 
 flax, wood, and other stores, piled together in picturesque con- 
 fusion, among which treasures the sole live-stock, a lean black 
 goat, wandered about at will, now and then slily nibbling at a 
 cabbage-head. The interesting part of the house lay at the 
 other end of this passage. Through the one small window in 
 the western wall the warm afternoon sun streamed in, and threw 
 a strange, garish light upon the picture that greeted the eyes 
 of the visitors at the other end of the dark entry. On the 
 left of the spacious hearth, where, notwithstanding the heat 
 of the weather, a glimmering fire slumbered, stood the wide 
 bed, hung and covered with blue checked linen ; beside it 
 was an antique chest painted in gay colours, chiefly red and 
 blue. By the hearth stood a spinning-wheel and a chair, in 
 which sat crouched together a very old woman, appar'^ntly 
 taking an afternoon doze. 
 
 Her appearance wa!fe certainly not one to inspire either re- 
 spect or confidence, although for the moment nothing of her 
 yellow face could be seen save the wrinkled brow and the 
 pointed chin, with the nose just showing between them. 
 Around her head was wound a torn, black woollen cloth, from 
 beneath which her matted white hair escaped in stiff elf-locks. 
 The rest of her dress seemed only a huddled mass of coarse 
 stuff in which her figure was enveloped. A clumsy shoe just
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 101 
 
 showed beneath it, and upon the old woman's knees lay 
 stretched, apparently as a kind of animated duvet, a huge 
 black cat. 
 
 On the side of the hearth some rude shelves sustained a 
 few rusty kettles and earthen basins, and beneath them stood 
 a rough table. Near the window there was a wooden bench, 
 and upon the window-scat sat a girl about as old as Beatrice, 
 — Brown Elsie. The name had not been bestowed without 
 cause ; her complexion was almost that of a mulatto, and be- 
 trayed at a glance the fact that she was of a race entirely foreign 
 to that of the flaxen-haired, blue-eyed German children among 
 whom she had grown up. Innate antipathy of race had early 
 fostered the enmity between them. 
 
 The shape of Elsbeth's face was a perfect oval. Her features 
 were not regular, but very marked. Her greatest beauty un- 
 questionably lay in her deep black eyes, which were capable of 
 expressing every emotion of the human heart, from the wildest 
 passion to the most devoted tenderness, although they usually 
 looked out upon the world in sullen indifference. There was 
 a classic beauty also in the little brown foot which rested bare 
 upon the wooden bench beneath the window-seat. The girl's 
 dress consisted of a gray, well-patched petticoat, and a sort of 
 gray shift, which, cut close about the neck, yet left the slender, 
 graceful arms bare. This costume evidently, however, did 
 not satisfy Elsbeth's sense of the beautiful, for the strange 
 creature wore wrapped about her shoulders, after a most fan- 
 tastic fashion, an old scarlet shawl. Upon her knees she held 
 a fragment of looking-glass, in which she was complacently ob- 
 Berviug her reflection while endeavouring to entwine a spray 
 of ivy in the coarse, straight black hair that lay loose upon her 
 shoulders. She did not for an inst nt desist from her occu- 
 pation upon the entrance of the visitors, to whom she scarcely 
 accorded a fleeting glance of observation. 
 
 The baron gently laid down his burden and approached tlio 
 9*
 
 102 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 old woman. " Mother Stina," he said, " we bring you here a 
 deer, a deer belonging to my young companion. It is wounded, 
 and needs nursing : will you do all you can to restore it to 
 strength ?" 
 
 The old woman did not reply ; she opened a pair of small 
 gray eyes, in which was plainly to be seen the reason why the 
 country-people believed her endowed with the curse of the evil 
 eye. With a look of surprise she gazed from one to the other 
 of her visitors, and then, as if she had discovered something 
 excessively comical, she burst into low, chuckling laughter. 
 
 " Do you not know who we are ?" Otto asked, sternly. 
 
 " Oh, to be sure !" the woman laughed. " How can I help 
 it? You are the wild young baron, and she there is the little 
 heiress " 
 
 " Enough, enough !" Otto interrupted her. 
 
 Her chuckling had ended in a fit of coughing. When she 
 recovered her breath, she continued, in the same jeering tone, 
 " Well, well ; then you are the weasel and she is the dove. 
 Shall I tell the pretty white dove her fortune ?" she suddenly 
 asked Beatrice. 
 
 On an ordinary occasion the young baroness would have 
 had the interest in a fortune-teller or would-be soothsayer 
 natural to girls of her age ; but Mother Stina fairly terrified 
 her. 
 
 " I am not curious to know about the future, my good 
 woman," she replied ; " but I shall be grateful to you if you 
 will take care of my poor deer." 
 
 " You would not hear a very fine tale," the crone grinned. 
 " For look ye, child, in the end the weasel always sucks the dove's 
 life-blood, and the cat kills the mouse when it has played with 
 it long enough ; and so it will be with you, white dove, struggle 
 and flutter as you may. The weasel once had you by the 
 wing, and some fine morning he will clutch your little throat." 
 
 Her manner of saying these words, the whole scene, had such
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 103 
 
 a terrifying effect upon Beatrice that involuntarily she recoiled. 
 The look of mute appeal which she turned upon Otto almost 
 robbed him of self-control. He strode up to the old woman. 
 "Silence!" he thundered, raising his hand, "or " 
 
 Beatrice gazed at him in terror. She could not see his 
 face, but the tone of his voice was one of such intense 
 and pa sionate agitation that she really feared for the old 
 woman. Before she knew what she was doing she stood 
 beside him, and laid her hand upon his arm. " Herr von 
 Arning, spare her. The woman is insane," she said, almost 
 reproachfully. 
 
 Otto had already retreated, stern and silent, perhaps ashamed 
 of his violence. Beatrice continued, addressing old Stina : " I 
 pray you, good woman, promise me that you will take good 
 care of Ami, and we will disturb you no longer. Be sure you 
 shall be well rewarded for your pains," she added, seeing that 
 Mother Stina made no reply. 
 
 But this promise also produced no effect ; the old woman 
 wagged her turbaned head, and went on muttering about doves 
 and weasels. Troubled and uncertain what she had best do 
 or say, the young girl's gaze sought Von Arning, from whom 
 she feared another outburst. But Otto was standing near the 
 door, with folded arms, and with looks bent gloomily upon the 
 ground. What was to be done ? There was no other cottage 
 nearer than a mile where she could seek shelter for her poor 
 wounded pet, and she was turning away discouraged, when 
 Klsbeth, who had been listening with an air of entire indiffer- 
 ence to what passed, suddenly slipped down from her window- 
 seat, and confronting the young baroness, said, curtly, " I will 
 take care of the deer." 
 
 " That is kind and good of you, Elsie !" Beatrice said, 
 much relieved, holding out her hand to the girl in token of 
 gratitude. 
 
 But, without choosing to notice the extended hand, P^lsbeth
 
 10-i A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 turned away and stooped over the deer, whilst Beatrice 
 dropped her hand with a blush. 
 
 The baron had observed the scene in silence. He lightly 
 pressed the rude girl's shoulder. 
 
 " Elsbeth, Friiulein von Arning offered to shake hands with 
 you." 
 
 She looked up at him with an air of mingled timidity and 
 defiance in her black eyes, but only for a second, and then, as 
 if unwillingly, held out a brown little hand to the baroness. 
 
 The atmosphere of the cottage was oppressive. Beatrice 
 hurried out into the fresh air, and Otto closed the door of the 
 hut after him with an energy that seemed inspired by a desire 
 to shut up there all the painful impressions of the last few 
 moments. But the frown upon his brow showed plainly 
 enough that there were no bolts or bars that could confine 
 behind doors of oak the evil spirits which the old woman's 
 words had evoked to torture him. 
 
 Beatrice looked at him askance, surmising what was passing 
 in his mind, and when they had again entered the forest she 
 took courage, and began shyly : " Do not look so distressed, 
 Herr von Arning. Why heed the words of a feeble old 
 woman who is known in all the country round to be insane?" 
 
 Otto stood still. " Insane !" he repeated, impatiently. " The 
 woman is no more insane than you or I. What she said 
 was clear and comprehensible, and there are many who say 
 likewise. What ! has madame j^our mother not told you a 
 hundred times the tale to which the old hag alluded ? And 
 you, can you deny that you believed it?" Beatrice stood 
 covered with confusion, the colour coming and going in her 
 lovely cheeks, and her heart throbbing as if it would burst. — 
 the generous heart which would so gladly have spared the man 
 by her side, guilty or not guilty, the humiliation he had just 
 endured in her presence. She could not tell a falsehood, nor 
 could she assent to his words; that would have been too hard.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 105 
 
 Otto regarded her for a moment, awaiting her reply with 
 intense eagerness. In answer to her silence he turned aside 
 with " I knew it." 
 
 He walked hastily away, but scarcely had he proceeded half 
 a dozen steps when a new thought seemed to strike him. He 
 turned, and once more approaching the young girl, who was 
 still standing downcast at the edge of the forest where he had 
 left her, he said, in a low, quiet voice, — 
 
 " I cannot convince you of my innocence. If I could have 
 obtained any proof of it, at whatever cost, these sixteen years 
 of disgrace had never been. It was not to be. I will not 
 weary you with asseverations. I wish only to remind you of 
 one thing. They say that children, in place of the reason 
 and judgment that so often mislead their elders, possess a 
 keen and unerring instinct, enabling them to distinguish 
 friends from foes. As a child you never looked upon me as 
 your foe. No, do not speak ! I do not repi'oach you with the 
 change. I see now that under the weight of evidence against 
 me none but a child could have believed in me. Neverthe- 
 less, I entreat you, Beatrice, to call up in your memory, when- 
 ever you are tempted to condemn me, the night upon which 
 you crossed the wild moor through storm and rain." 
 
 Before Beatrice could recover sufficient composure to raise 
 her eyes, she was alone. 
 
 As soon as the door of the moorland cottage had closed 
 upon its distinguished visitors, Elsbeth turned her large eyes 
 all aflame upon old Stina. 
 
 " Grandmother," she began, " they say you are wise, and 
 people come to ask you what is going to happen. I only want 
 to know what has happened. Tell me, if you can, what the 
 Buchdorf young lady did before she was born, to give her the 
 right to lie upon cushions of down and be fed with sweet- 
 meats, while you beat me every day and the village children 
 throw stones at me. Or tell me why our baron, who never
 
 lOG ^ FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 speaks to any one, treats the bart)ness with so much honour 
 although he hates her, while he hardly seems to notice me. 
 She is no prettier, no wiser, no more cunning, than I. Can 
 you tell me why he treats her better ?" 
 
 "Why?" Stina answered; "why else than because she 
 belongs to his caste? They all hold togetlicr. People say 
 there is one law for all. They lie, Els. There are two laws in 
 every land, one for the rich, another for the starving. I 
 learned that in my travels. Els." 
 
 " But why should we be among the starving?" Brown Elsie 
 persisted. " I will starve no longer. Can I not be rich, like 
 the baroness?" 
 
 The crone wagged her head to and fro. " No, you cannot, 
 Els," she said. " We must stay as we are. But there is one 
 thing better, child, than rank or wealth — Power! Did you 
 see how patiently the wild young baron listened to me? Do 
 you think he would have borne it from any one else on earth ? 
 No, but he'll bear it from old Stina — oh, yes, child, for I have 
 
 power, power 
 
 And as she spoke she cast a glance, half proud, half sly, 
 towards the gaily-painted chest. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Meanwhile, Aunt Bernhardine, whose parsimony in- 
 creased with years, was sitting in the simple apartment at 
 Ermsdal, where was spread a supper, awaiting her nephew's 
 return. The bare room, with its sanded floor, dull chintz 
 curtains, and white scoured wooden chairs, did not look at all 
 cosy or inviting. One thing of beauty alone there was to 
 cast a glory over all the bleak surroundings, — the rays of the
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 107 
 
 setting sun, which fortunately did not own the sway of the 
 prim canoness. 
 
 Aunt Bernhardine sat stiff and straight in the black leather 
 chair by the stove, and her knitting-needles clicked in her 
 fingers as busily as on the afternoon when we first made her 
 acquaintance nearly nineteen years ago. Opposite her, at the 
 other end of the table, sat a portly little man who was per- 
 petually moving restlessly upon his seat, as if he could not 
 accommodate himself to its narrow wooden proportions. This 
 visitor was Herr von Tannen, Otto's most faithful friend and 
 admirer, and an old comrade of his father's. All Otto's other 
 neighbours visited Ermsdal only upon special business occasions, 
 but Herr von Tannen came at least twice every week, and 
 refused to be repulsed either by Aunt Bernhardine's chilling 
 reception or by Otto's misanthropical demeanour. 
 
 Tannen was not, indeed, compelled when he came to Erms- 
 dal to share the frugal meals provided by the canoness. 
 Arning knew the old gentleman's weakness for the pleasui'es 
 of the table, and, greatly to Aunt Bernhardine's annoyance, 
 had given strict orders that his friend was always to be suitably 
 entertained. Thus the baron was to-day enabled to divert 
 his attention from old Friiulein von Tretten, who did not 
 particularly interest him, and bestow it upon a most engross- 
 ing woodcock and venison steak, which, with a bottle of 
 sherry, presented a very inviting appearance upon the table 
 before him. The conversation, as long as there had been 
 any, had turned upon Otto's return from the capital, and his 
 purchase of the neighbouring property of Repach , but the 
 subject was exhausted, and there had been a long silence, when 
 Otto's firm quick step was heard in the hall. 
 
 " Good-evening," he said briefly, almost gruffly, upon enter- 
 ing, throwing his hunting-cap upon the nearest chair ; then per- 
 ceiving the baron, who had sprung up, napkin in hand, to greet 
 him, he added, in a more kindly tone, " Welcome, Tannen."
 
 108 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 Without heeding this curt reception the baron exclaimed 
 cordially, "So here you arc again, Otto! By Jove, you have 
 a gift for supplying idle people with stuff for conversation 1 
 Off yesterday morning, without a word, to the capital, back 
 again at noon to-day with the deed of purchase of llepach in 
 your pocket, and an hour later out hunting, all as if it were 
 no more to you than plucking a handful of daisies. And yet, 
 if you will allow me, Otto — I suppose you know best, but is 
 not the purchase of that property rather imprudent? Repach 
 is a pearl for a hunter, but it will take a deal of hard work to 
 make it a valuable estate." 
 
 While Tannen spoke, Otto was divesting himself of his 
 hunter's wallet. "So much the better," he rejoined. "I 
 bought it only because I hoped it would give me some hard 
 work." 
 
 " No, no, let us stop working," the old gentleman exclaimed, 
 with vivacity. "You have worked enough for a lifetime; 
 your youth has been spent in working. True, you may look 
 with pride upon what you have done, but are you going oa 
 forever adding to your gains ? I should think it was time for 
 you to enjoy " 
 
 "Enjoy what, old friend?" Otto asked, with a shrug, as 
 he took up his rifle to clean and load it ready for the next 
 day. 
 
 Meanwhile, Aunt Bernhardine arranged her nephew's plate 
 and glass, and hung his cap upon the wall where it belonged. 
 The canoness could not leave anything, even a pin, out of 
 place. 
 
 " I see no result of your hunting to-day," Herr von Tannen 
 said gaily to Otto. " Bad luck, I suppose. Well, it does not 
 often attend your rifle. By the way, I have a piece of news 
 for you, in which I dare swear you will take but small interest, 
 but which I shall nevertheless impart, since I consider it my 
 duty not to allow you to cut yourself oft" entirely from the
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 109 
 
 world about you. Your cousin, Frau von Arning, has re- 
 turned from her travels." 
 
 " I know it. I met the young baroness at Repach." 
 
 Aunt Bernhardine pricked up her ears. 
 
 "Indeed!" Tannen exclaimed. "Chance is sure to be 
 kinder than the wayward obstinacy of foolish mortals. The 
 6rbt meeting for nitie years!" 
 
 "I certainly have great cause to rejoice in the kindness of 
 chance," Otto rejoined, coldly. "It not only arranged our 
 meeting, but provided that it should take place after a fashion 
 that reopened all the old wounds. What game do you think, 
 Tannen, the last bullet from this rifle laid low ? The young 
 baroness's pet deer." 
 
 " Ami ?" Tannen exclaimed in dismay. " I am excessively 
 sorry ; the poor child will be inconsolable." 
 
 Otto paused with the ramrod half drawn from the rifle- 
 barrel, and turned with a mocking smile to his visitor. 
 
 "Oh, indeed? She will be inconsolable," he slowly re- 
 peated. "Is that all you have to say? Gro to Buchdorf, and 
 Frau von Arning will give you the true version of the affair, 
 and make it clear as sunlight to you that the ball that struck 
 the deer was meant for its mistress. The two were at lea.st 
 twelve yards apart; but, good heavens! what of that? She 
 will probably find some Herr Warne who will swear to it that 
 my want of skill alone sent the bullet so wide of the mark!" 
 
 "Otto! Otto!" 
 
 The baron started up, and, leaning his rifle in the corner 
 against the wall, walked to the window. 
 
 Tannen looked after him with a shake of his head, and then 
 turned with a glance of inquiry to Aunt Bernhardine, whose 
 only reply was a shrug. 
 
 In some displccxsure he took up his hat. " You are unjuct 
 to the baroness and to yourself, Arning," he said. 
 
 Otto made no answer. 
 
 10
 
 110 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 " I came to a.sk a favour of you," Tannen began again, 
 " but I see you are not in the mood to listen to me quietly, 
 so I will postpone it to some future time." 
 
 Otto came back to the table. His face was calm, his features 
 wore an expression of weariness. " Pray tell me, Tannen, if 
 T can be of service to you in any way," he said. 
 
 " I hope to heaven that I may be able to convince you of 
 the desirability of what I propose," the old baron cried, taking 
 fresh courage. " Week after next. Otto, I am going to give 
 a dinner. Yes, now you know what is coming ! For years 
 you have been invited to every entertainment, large or small, 
 that has been given at my house, and you have invariably 
 courteously declined to come to me. I think my patience 
 deserves to be crowned with some success." 
 
 " You trouble me !" Otto impatiently intemipted him. 
 " Have I not repeatedly explained to you the reasons for my 
 refusals ? I am not fit for society, certainly not for the so- 
 ciety about here, which believes itself entirely cognizant of my 
 past and tells the wildest tales with regard to my present 
 life. Shall I expose myself to be stared at as if I were some 
 strange animal ? If at sight of me there were the slightest 
 whisper, if any one dared to make the faintest allusion to my 
 Avretched past, I could not endure it ! There would be some 
 dreadful scene, and — that would spoil your pleasant party," 
 he added, interrupting himself 
 
 " My house ought to afford you surety of your safety from 
 all insult," Tannen gravely replied ; " and you are entirely 
 mistaken with regard to the sentiments of a society which you 
 have shunned for sixteen years. No one is hostilely disposed 
 towards you ; the only one who unfortunately will not yet see 
 how much we all sinned against ycu — Frau von Arning — will 
 probably not appear, and both you and she will be spared 
 the annoyance of meeting. Come, Otto, be reasonable for 
 once."
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. Ill 
 
 " I have never even paid my respects to Madame von 
 Tanuen," Otto said, with hesitation. 
 
 Tannen saw that the victory was his. 
 
 " Two weeks is a long time," he replied. " You can easily 
 repair that omission. And even if you should not observe 
 the formality required by conventionality, we shall never call 
 you to account for it. My wife and daughters think as I do, 
 that a man just re-awakening to social life should not be fright- 
 ened back to his retirement by too strict an adherence to social 
 etiquette." 
 
 Without looking up. Otto held out his hand to his friend. 
 
 " You are so considerate of me, Tannen," he said, gently. 
 " Well, I will overcome myself ; I will try once more to 
 mingle with my kind. Are you satisfied?" 
 
 " More than satisfied ! Be sure that better days await you," 
 his friend replied, cordially grasping the proffered hand. 
 " And now farewell for to-day. You are not in the mood 
 for a visit, so I will disturb you no longer." 
 
 And the vivacious little baron took his leave as well pleased 
 as if he had gained some great personal advantage. 
 
 No invitation had been extended to Aunt Bernhardine, who 
 never left Ermsdal, because she was unwilling to spend the 
 money which it would have cost to provide her with a suitable 
 dress. 
 
 It was strange that with all her parsimony she spent a very 
 considerable sum yearly. Any one else except Otto would 
 have been struck by this fact, but the baron paid no attention 
 to what concerned neither himself nor the management of his 
 property. 
 
 Meanwhile, Beatrice had walked slowly home, lost in 
 thought. One short interview with Otto had sufficed to 
 overthrow the barrier of fear, mistrust, and hatred which for 
 nine long years her mother had been striving to build up ia
 
 112 A FA MIL r FEUD. 
 
 her heart. Every proof of Otto's guilt was powerless to con- 
 vince her or to lull to sleep her re- awakened faith in him. 
 She took herself to task for her sympathy with one pronounced 
 so unworthy, and yet she could not but believe in him. 
 Where should she turn for certainty on the subject? To the 
 memories of her childhood ? She did so ; every little circum- 
 stance connected with the estranged cousin, every word of 
 Otto's, came thronging to her thoughts. 
 
 In the agitation of her mind she avoided meeting any one ; 
 she silently slipped past the drawing-room, where she heard 
 her mother speaking with the steward, and ran up-stairs to 
 her own room. Here she shut and bolted the door with 
 a sigh of relief, and throwing herself into a low chair in the 
 deep window-recess, drew around her the heavy curtains, that 
 she might be all alone with her reflections. 
 
 About an hour later Lindau returned from his ride; he 
 looked up to the young girl'i window, but Beatrice bent her 
 head that she might not be seen and perhaps compelled to re- 
 ply to a gesture of greeting. Only in answer to the summons 
 to supper did she present herself among the members of the 
 household. As she passed through the drawing-room it oc- 
 curred to her that there had once hung there on the wall above 
 a lounge a portrait of Otto, the only likeness of him in exist- 
 ence. It was a little pastel drawing representing the young 
 baron at about nine years of age, in a blue velvet tunic, with 
 light hair and dark-blue eyes in which there was already more 
 of a haughty gravity than of childish gaiety. Kurt had often 
 taken it down to show to his little daughter, but when the 
 house had been refurnished it had been banished to a lumber- 
 room, and Beatrice had forgotten it. Now it suddenly arose 
 before her mind's eye in every detail, even to the handle of the 
 riding-whip which the boy held in his hand, and she resolved 
 that though it should cost her a search through every cup- 
 board and closet in the spacious house, she would find this
 
 A FA MIL y FEUD. 113 
 
 picture on the morrow and give it a place, not where it had 
 formerly hung, but in her own room. 
 
 Bent upon carrying out this resolve, she entered the dining, 
 room where the chandelier was already lighted and the table 
 shone in the splendour of glass and silver. Yes, it looked far 
 more splendid than cosy or comfortable ; only four covers laid 
 at the huge table ! only four people in the spacious apart- 
 ment, lighted as if for a ball, with its gigantic side-board and 
 high-backed chairs of carved oak ! Beatrice quietly took her 
 scat, and was unusually silent during the entire meal. 
 
 Herr von Lindau, on the contrary, was extremely loquacious ; 
 he had had a most interesting ride, and he now gave free rein 
 to the eloquence which his " mamma" had so frequently ex- 
 tolled. He began a long story of an old witch and an en- 
 chanted princess whom she kept spell-bound in her den, but 
 who nevertheless had given him a cup of water with the pret- 
 tiest hands in the world. Beatrice scarcely looked up from 
 her plate ; she could not help a blush now and then, for she 
 suspected to whom Lindau referred. The baroness, however, 
 listened with unaffected interest until Warne, who sat with 
 downcast eyes performing the masterly feat of keenly watching 
 three people at one and the same moment, remarked in a low 
 tone, " The baron has probably encountered Brown Elsie, as 
 the villagers call her, — Elsbeth Mai, who lives with her grand- 
 mother on the Ermsdal moor." 
 
 " No, no, not in Ermsdal. I saw ' Repach,' or some name 
 like it upon the milestone." 
 
 " You are right," the steward replied ; " but the bit of ground 
 upon which the hut stand, belongs to Ermsdal, although it is 
 within the boundary of Repach. Old Stina formerly led a 
 wandering life, but more than ten years ago she took up her 
 abode in an Ermsdal hut. Her landlord of course has reasons 
 for allowing her to live there." 
 
 " How then ? Your disguised princess turns out to be Elsbeth 
 10*
 
 Hi A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 Mai ?" the baroness exclaimed, in surprise. " And is this gipsy 
 girl really handsome ?" 
 
 Frau von Arning had often seen Brown Elsie during her 
 childhood and girlhood roaming field and forest, but it was one 
 of Theresa's characteristics that she rarely took notice of any 
 human being in rags. 
 
 Lindau continued to expatiate upon the charms of his lately- 
 discovered beauty, thei'eby delighting no one so much as the 
 steward, who had observed the glance, half timid, half searching 
 with which Beatrice had greeted the first mention of Elsbeth, 
 and had ascribed it to jealousy. Nothing could more entirely 
 accord with his plans than this imprudence upon Lindau's 
 part, and in order to increase the supposed discord thus arising 
 between the young people he skilfully incited the baron to a 
 8till greater degree of enthusiasm. But Beatrice neither by 
 look nor word furnished any further food for his suspicions, 
 and Emil, who had been carried away rather by his own elo- 
 quence than by Elsbeth's beauty, suddenly changed the topic 
 of his discourse. 
 
 " You spoke of Ermsdal, Herr Warne. I saw that name 
 also on a sign-post. The estate belongs also to an Arning, — 
 Otto von Arning, if I do not mistake ?" 
 
 " You are right," Theresa replied, coldly. " Are you ac- 
 quainted with its possessor ?" 
 
 " Not exactly that ; our major presented him to us and made 
 much of him. Herr von Arning seems to be an agricultural 
 genius ; at least every one says that in an inconceivably short 
 space of time he transformed a barren waste into a very valua- 
 ble estate, and a swarm of beggars into a prosperous peasantry. 
 This may be an exaggeration." 
 
 " A very great exaggeration," the steward remarked. 
 
 " No, no, it is the truth !" the baroness, who never con. 
 sciously gave her support to an untruth, contradicted him. 
 " I knew Ermsdal as it was formerly, and according to the
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 115 
 
 unanimous testimony of credible eye-witnesses, Herr von Ar- 
 ning has accomplished the impossible." 
 
 " So much the better, madame. I am extremely glad to hear 
 the good opinion expressed in the capital concerning him thus 
 confirmed by his neighbours. For a friend, he seems to me 
 too cold, too re erved a man, but he is evidently a person of 
 distinction, and my mamma is always pleased to have me cul- 
 tivate people of distinction. To-morrow I will ride over to 
 Ermsdal and " 
 
 " You will greatly oblige me by not doing as you propose, 
 Herr von Lindau," said the baroness. 
 
 There was in her voice a tone of rebuke which embarrassed 
 the young man. 
 
 " I beg pardon, madame," he stammered. " I did not 
 know — of course if you disapprove " 
 
 " Herr von Arning is a relative of ours," Theresa went on 
 in the same tone. 
 
 " Of course ! What was I thinking of? The name is the 
 same. It never occurred to me. Excuse me, I pray you, 
 madame, and be assured I shall not transgress your wishes in 
 the matter." 
 
 " I am sorry to impose any restraint, however slight, upon 
 your actions," the baroness replied, with her air of loftiest 
 dignity, "but there can be no intercourse between Buchdorf 
 and Ermsdal. Do not misconstrue me, Herr von Lindau. 
 This alienation was caused by no ordinary family disagreement. 
 But perhaps it would be as well frankly to explain the mattter 
 to you." 
 
 The knife and fork that Beatrice held jingled slightly. 
 "Was she to be condemned to listen to a tale every word of 
 which in her present mood would pain her like the touch 
 of red-hot steel? She arose, and, leaning one hand upon 
 the table, she said, turning her large serious eyes upon her 
 mother, —
 
 IIG A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 " Mamma, Ilerr von Aruing is almost the only relative we 
 have in the world. Would you acquaint a stranger with his 
 unfortunate history, — accuse him to a stranger of a crime 
 which was never proved?" 
 
 These were the first words uttered by Beatrice since her 
 appearance at table, and they produced an extraordinary effect. 
 The steward stared at the young girl with eyes wide open for 
 once; the baroness shook her head in some irritation. The 
 outcast's name had never been uttered with such forbear- 
 ance within the walls of Buchdorf since the death of the old 
 baron. 
 
 " These are singular expressions of yours, my dear Beatrice," 
 she said, reprovingly, " expressions not without a shade of 
 offence in them, unintentional on your part I am sure. Herr 
 von Lindau certainly is no stranger, nor, so far as I know, 
 has there been any secret with regard to your cousin's actions. 
 Whence then this sudden sentimentality ? Unfortunately you 
 had, as a child, an inconceivable penchant for the man, which 
 it cost me much time and pains to eradicate, but I trusted it 
 was entirely overcome. I should be excessively sorry if you 
 were ever to relapse into your childish error. Herr Warne 
 and I have certainly often enough detailed to you the circum- 
 stances which afforded incontestable proofs of his guilt." 
 
 " Incontestable proofs ? The court acquitted him, and papa 
 did not believe him guilty," Beatrice firmly rejoined. While 
 the mother was speaking, the daughter's eyes were never for a 
 moment averted from her face, and something in their expres- 
 sion and in the pale earnest countenance told Theresa that for 
 some reason, whatever it might be, Beatrice was not to be ruled 
 to-day. There never must be anything like a dispute between 
 them. She shrugged her shoulders, and, rising from table, 
 said, with her most pacific air, " Herr von Lindau is to finish 
 reading us that interesting article this evening, is he not ? 
 Wait for me, children ; I will be with you in a few minutes. 1
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 117 
 
 am only going for some papers which I wish to hand to Herr 
 Warne." 
 
 And with a graceful inclination she left the room. 
 
 The others, with varied emotions, betook themselves to the 
 drawing-room. Lindau sat down at the grand piano, and rat- 
 tled away at a waltz with considerably more mistakes than 
 usual. He was dying of curiosity to know something more 
 of the mysterious lord of Ermsdal. 
 
 Beatrice sat in a window-recess, looking out at the starlit 
 heavens, mechanically searching for the constellations with 
 which she was familiar, and wondering whether Lindau could 
 possibly know of her meeting with her cousin. At another 
 window stood the steward, also lost in his own reflections. 
 He was vainly endeavouring to harmonize his two discoveries, 
 Beatrice's jealousy of Elsbeth, and her sudden partisanship 
 for Otto. This last could not possibly in a girl of her charac- 
 ter have been the result of irritation against Lindau and a 
 wild desire to speak of him contemptuously as a stranger. 
 No, no, its cause lay much deeper. " And even if it is to be 
 found only at the earth's centre I will know it," Warne said to 
 himself, in conclusion of his reverie. Meanwhile he would 
 carry out the plan he had formed of separating the young peo- 
 ple at all hazards. To this end he would jestingly direct the 
 young baroness's attention to some of her adorer's follies. He 
 had studied human nature sufficiently to know that a fault of 
 character is more readily forgiven than a weakness. 
 
 Noiselessly he approached the young girl. 
 
 " Will you not let me ask to have the reading begin now?" 
 he asked, with a glance towards the piano ; " in pity to your 
 nerves, Fraulein von Arning. The will is good, but the ca- 
 pacity is small." 
 
 Beatrice smiled good-humouredly. " Do not stop him, 
 Herr Warne," she said, kindly. " It gives him pleasure, and 
 really it does not annoy me much."
 
 118 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 Tlie baroness eutercd, Lindau began to read, and the evening 
 passed quietly. 
 
 The next day Beatrice was very busy. First she found 
 her cousin's portrait and concealed it in her most private 
 drawer. Then she unlocked her father's antique secretary 
 and began to peruse carefully every paper it contained, hoping 
 to find some evidence in Otto's favour. Her mother made no 
 remark upon her conduct, supposing it to be prompted by a 
 sudden access of filial aifection. Her search, however, was 
 entirely fruitless. 
 
 She found many affectionate expressions, it is true, with 
 regard to Otto, in her father's handwriting, showing his con- 
 fidence in his young relative, but nothing that would have 
 given an impartial observer any decisive evidence in Otto's 
 favour. 
 
 In the afternoon Beatrice visited many of the cottagers with 
 whom she had been upon terms of affectionate intimacy in her 
 childhood. As if by chance, she led them to speak of old 
 times, and she was not a little surprised to find the opinion 
 prevailing among them very different from that entertained in 
 her home. The present prosperity of the Ermsdalers, who in 
 former times were driven by destitution to make large demands 
 every winter upon the richer peasantry of the neighbouring 
 estates, had impressed these simple people, accustomed to 
 judge by facts, most favourably, and disposed them to espouse 
 the cause of their former "young master." Of course they 
 did not frankly avow their change of sentiment, but it was not 
 difficult for Beatrice to divine from what they said their true 
 opinion. 
 
 During the following days she continued her investigations, 
 with the same result. Every morning also, long before the 
 baroness arose, she visited the moorland hut to see her wounded 
 deer, which improved daily. This went on for a week, and 
 Beatrice was seldom in the house except at meal-times and in
 
 A FA MIL F FEUD. 119 
 
 the evenings. The mother paid little heed to this whim, as 
 she thought it, of her daughter ; but Herr von Lindau was 
 driven to desperation by the constant absence of his ideal. In 
 spite of the old gardener's remonstrances, he robbed the green- 
 houses of their choicest treasures, and at night Beatrice would 
 find her cherished blossoms tied into a huge nosegay lying 
 fading on the floor of her bedroom, hurled there through the 
 open window by Emil, and almost always accompanied by a 
 copy of verses lamenting, in rather halting rhymes, the invisi- 
 bility of his sun, his star, or his rose, while he was doomed 
 to tread the earth alone. 
 
 In all this he was assisted and abetted by Warne, who 
 laughed in his sleeve the while, for he knew that Beatrice 
 could not endure the wanton destruction of her favourites, and 
 detested bad verses. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Mother Stina was thought a skilful fortune-teller, and 
 the peasants listened to her as to an oracle. And people who 
 were not superstitious often secretly consulted her. For, even 
 if she could not foretell the future, she was intimately ac- 
 quainted with a thousand private circumstances connected with 
 people of all ranks in the country round, and was quite willing 
 n)r a consideration to afford exact intelligence concerning the 
 present, which should surely be enough for any reasonable 
 man. 
 
 Warne had oflen been of this latter number. However 
 successfully he might oppose Lindau's views, he felt himself 
 powerless in face of the vague danger that undeniably menaced 
 him in Beatrice's unaccountable chaujie of sentiment towunLs
 
 120 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 her cousin. Perhaps old Stina might help liim to a solutioa 
 of this riddle. And then he had another plan. In order to 
 make Lindau quite harmless, he would bring about some en- 
 tanglement between the young man and Brown Elsie, or at 
 least some appearance of such entanglement. 
 
 Thus one evening, when the household at Buchdorf had 
 betaken themselves to rest, when the dogs were unchained in 
 thi court-yard, and the full moon was miri'orcd in the lake 
 beside the sleeping swans, Warne walked noiselessly along the 
 forest paths towards the moorland hut. Silence reigned around 
 him, the birds had long been sleeping in their nests, the still- 
 ness was broken only now and then by the eerie cry of the 
 night-owl. On the strip of meadow between the wood and 
 the moor, however, the shrill chirp of the cricket disturbed 
 the air, and the frogs were croaking in the neighbouring marsh. 
 Like some uneasy ghost the steward glided across the moonlit 
 clearing, and slipped easily through the opening of the door 
 of the hut, which stood ajar. He might have opened it wide, 
 but it was one of Warne's habits never to open a door wider 
 than would suffice to admit of his entrance. The moonlight, 
 however, reigned alone in the interior of the hut; neither of 
 its inmates was to be found there ; and leaving it in some irri- 
 tation at having taken his midnight walk in vain, Warne was 
 about to retrace his steps, when he started back with an invol- 
 untary exclamation of surprise and admiration. 
 
 In the tall blooming heather, almost at his feet, lay Elsbeth 
 Mai in her fantastic dress, her small head propped upon her 
 brown, shapely arm, and a wreath of scarlet hawthorn hips 
 twined about her raven hair. Her other hand lay caressingly 
 upon the graceful head of a deer that was nestling affectionately 
 beside her, and the moon was mirrored in her large dark eyes, 
 now gazing towards the skies with an expression fiiU of 
 melancholy and entirely devoid of the cunning and the distrust- 
 ful defiance that usually characterized lier. She was indeed, as
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 121 
 
 Herr von Lindau "had declared, a fairj-like apparition, and the 
 steward might well pause before her in admiration. 
 
 "Elsbeth!" he exclaimed, "what have you been doing to 
 yourself? I never saw you so beautiful before !" 
 
 She did not alter her position in the least, but the old evil 
 expression fell like a veil over her lovely features. 
 
 "Where is your grandmother, Elsbeth?" Warne continued, 
 perceiving that the girl was not inclined to reply to his first 
 address. 
 
 Brown Elsie motioned carelessly in the direction of the 
 moor ; but when the steward, instead of departing at this mute 
 sign, remained standing before her, she said, impatiently, 
 " Mother Stina is out on the moor, where the devil teaches her 
 magic, and she will not come home until morning. So if you 
 have another scrap of paper in your pocket like the one you 
 brought last year, and many another year before that,, give it to 
 me, for heaven's sake. My grandmother shall have it unread, 
 I promise you, for I cannot read." 
 
 The steward sat down beside her in the fragrant heather. 
 Elsbeth made a gesture of impatience. 
 
 " Well?" she asked, turning to him with a stare of surprise. 
 " Did I not tell you that my grandmother would not be home 
 until morning?" 
 
 Warne nevertheless persisted. "And why should that 
 prevent our having a little conversation together?" he said, 
 calmly. "What have you twined among your hair, child? 
 Hawthorn hips? Admirable! The fiery scarlet is most be- 
 coming to your olive skin. Would you like me to buy you a 
 coral necklace, Elsbeth, and a fine new gown?" 
 
 "You? For me?" Brown Elsie started up, but, imme- 
 diately sinking back again, she said, in an offensively indiffer- 
 ent tone, "Oh, yes, T always forget that you are a rich man, 
 Herr Warne. You inherited money from your father ' now 
 in bliss,' as the Herr Pastor savs — 'tis a fine thing — such a 
 r 11
 
 122 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 father!" She slowly plucked to pieces a heather blossom. "I 
 wonder if your father really is in bliss, Herr Warne?" 
 
 The steward bit his lip and shot an angry glance from be- 
 neath his drooping eyelids at the delicate creature beside him 
 who dared to speak so boldly and mockingly. "What do you 
 mean?" he asked. 
 
 The head of the strange girl sank back among the heather, 
 and there was no possible meaning to be gathered from the 
 placid, almost stupid expression of her features, as she replied, 
 sleepily, "Why, the pastor says that the striving for gain and 
 gold does not lead directly to bliss. But what of that? All 
 I know is, your father left you money. I wish my grand- 
 mother would be so kind." 
 
 The steward breathed freely again, but he still glanced 
 suspiciously at the girl. "What you say sounds very heart- 
 less," he said, slowly. 
 
 "I have no heart," Elsbeth assented. "Why or for whom 
 should I have any? Has not every one mocked, and beaten, 
 and despised me ever since I can remember? And I hate 
 them all, — the whole world ! But I will be rich and powerftil, 
 and then have my revenge." 
 
 Warne was not slow to take advantage of the mood these 
 words disclosed in this untutored, almost savage nature. He 
 began with wily words to give point and direction to her vague 
 discontents, — painted the impression which her beauty al- 
 though clouded by poverty had made upon the young officer 
 Emil von Lindau, spoke of the brilliant future that her per- 
 sonal advantages ought to secure for her, and of Emil's wealth, — 
 all in an easy way, as though it had been suddenly suggested 
 to him by her unexpected presence. He desired but to give 
 the first impetus to the stone ; it would roll fast enough down 
 hill without further help. 
 
 In his own eyes his discourse was a masterpiece ; and the 
 manner in which Elsbeth listened to his words, her head bent
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 123 
 
 as if in shy pleasure, was well fitted to make him sure of their 
 effect. But when, with a jest upon the conquest she had 
 made, and an added wish that her rise in life might be speedy, 
 he would have laid his hand caressingly upon his "little 
 friend's" graceful head, the girl slipped from him with a 
 lithe celerity that justified one of her nicknames, that of 
 lizard, and springing to her feet stood before the startled man 
 the next instant with folded arms, her eyes full of gloomy 
 menace. 
 
 " Soh, Herr Warne !" she said, slowly ; " I have listened to 
 all you had to say, because I wanted to know exactly what 
 fine plot you were hatching, and for whom. Now I know it 
 as well as if I had made it myself; and you also, my fine 
 gentleman, as perfectly as I know my beloved moor out there, 
 with its soft mossy surface above, and its bottomless mud be- 
 low. When you sat down by me and spoke kindly to me I 
 knew you wanted something of me; when you ofi"ered me 
 coral and a new gown I knew it must be something great, for 
 you never give more than half pay for service done. Oh, you 
 need not be angry. I praise you when I say so, for if you 
 were a spendthrift how could your father have left you so 
 much money?" 
 
 She gave a short scornful laugh, and then went on in a 
 lower tone, in which, in spite of her effort to appear indif- 
 ferent, there was a tremor of acute pain. " You would de- 
 ceive me, — so meanly, so hatefully; no other girl would fci- 
 give you ; but Brown Elsie has always been used to be ill 
 treated. I wish you no worse than I do the whole world, but 
 rather better, for in your scheme my ruin was not your object ; 
 you only wanted to bring to grief the haughty ladies at Buch- 
 dorf. You hate them as I do, those rich, great people, only I 
 cast my hati-ed boldly in their faces, while you humbly kiss 
 the ground before them. Look you, Warne," the girl went 
 on more quietly, " I know you were only jeering me a while
 
 124 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 ago when you culled me clever. But indeed I know many 
 a thing that you will not find in books, and that may chance 
 to be useful to you. For five miles around here there is not 
 a house that holds a secret from me, Brown Elsie. It is I who 
 supply Mother Stina with the knowledge that makes the stupid 
 people who come to her stare, and although I am not made to 
 be your humble servant as my grandmother is, heaven knows 
 why, I will give you faithful help against the girl at Buch- 
 dorf, if for once in your life you can keep faith." 
 
 " But, my dear child," the steward cried, delightedly, " did 
 I ask anything of you but your friendly aid ? If my scheme 
 does not suit you, improve it if you can. I came hither to 
 ask your advice." 
 
 " Your scheme is bad, and, besides, useless," Elsbeth replied. 
 " The Frilulein will never be Lindau's wife." 
 
 " But the early morning walks," Warne said, as if to him- 
 self. 
 
 "You know of those too? Nothing escapes those half- 
 shut eyes of yours. Swear to me that the coral necklace shall 
 be mine, and a hat just like the one with a wreath of water- 
 lilies that your Fraulein wears, and I will tell you what those 
 walks are for." 
 
 " Why should I swear, Elsbeth ? All these you shall 
 surely have." 
 
 " Can I be sure of that ? I shall be more sure if you 
 swear, for you are superstitious, my dear Herr Warne ; for 
 instance, you are not fond of the cry of the cuckoo, — not even 
 when it comes from a cuckoo-clock. If you do not keep 
 your promise I will dog your heels and cry 'cuckoo!' I know 
 how to do it, — ' cuckoo ! cuckoo !' " 
 
 The cry was so natural that the steward started and looked 
 around. Elsbeth laughed. 
 
 " I swear, then," he said, peevishly. " I swear by all that is 
 holy. And now, tell me quickly."
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 125 
 
 " Listen, then. Last Friday a week ago, Fraulein Beatrice 
 came here with our master " 
 
 " With your master ! Are you dreaming, Elsbeth ? With 
 Otto Ton Arning ?" the steward cried. 
 
 Elsbeth nodded. " I know enough to see how very un- 
 pleasant it would be for you, who have played the master in 
 Buchdorf so long and so well, to let him have a sight of your 
 cards. Never mind, I will tell you how to prevent it. So 
 the two came to our hut; he brought the deer which he 
 had Wounded, and they wanted granny to nurse it. But she 
 would do nothing but talk about a time that the Herr Baron 
 does not like much to think of, and he grew furious, and the 
 Fraulein looked as if it were all her fault. Afterwards, — a 
 knot-hole in the door is a good thing after all, — afterwards I 
 saw them stand together for a while on the edge of the forest. 
 Now she comes every day to visit her deer, but she scarcely 
 looks at it, and talks all the while of him ; and he comes every 
 day to bandage Ami's wound, which is of no consequence, 
 and I must tell him all she has said. She comes in the 
 morning, and he towards evening, and glad enough they 
 would be to meet. Neither of them has yet plucked up the 
 
 heart for that, but it will come all in good time, and then 
 
 Now I have earned your gift. Good-night, Herr Warne." 
 
 At this sudden conclusion, Warne started as from a dream. 
 " Elsbeth !" he exclaimed, but she was gone. With the speed 
 of lightning her little brown feet tripped through the luxu- 
 riant heather ; on the edge of the moor she turned with a 
 mocking laugh that showed her white teeth glistening in the 
 moonlight, and beckoned to the steward to follow her. No- 
 thing would have induced Warne to do so ; even Ami stood 
 mournfully on the edge of the swamp, while Elsbeth, seeming 
 scarcely to touch the earth, flew over the marshy ground in a 
 fantastic dance. 
 
 The moor was her fortress, her garden, her home. Thither 
 11*
 
 12G A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 as a child she had fled from the blows and stones of the vil- 
 lage boys. There she was safe, for the boldest among them 
 dared not follow her. But she knew every foot of soil in her 
 home, every dangerous and every safe spot ; she was the spirit 
 of the desert waste, her character had taken its colouring from 
 its desolate features ; she should have been called, not moor- 
 land Els, but moorland Elf 
 
 The oracle which the steward had thus consulted gave him 
 food for thought. Elsbeth's revelations accorded wonderfully 
 with Beatrice's behaviour on that Friday evening ; but when 
 he reflected upon the state of affairs at Buchdorf, upon Frau 
 von Arning's detestation of Otto and her evident determina- 
 tior to consider Emil von Lindau as her future son-in-law, he 
 almost uoubted the accuracy of Elsbeth's powers of observa- 
 tion. It annoyed him, too, that she had so easily read his 
 thoughts ; if by the merest chance his scheme had not coin- 
 cided with her own views his position would have been lost. 
 
 Thus he pondered restlessly untU sleep closed his eyelids, 
 and when he awoke from troubled dreams the sun v^s high 
 in the heavens. The doubts of the previous nigni, still 
 ■weighed heavily upon his soul. Vexed and wearied, he 
 opened his window and looked out. Before him lay the park 
 in all the dewy freshness of morning, and the bells chiming 
 softly from the village church told that Sunday had come in 
 all this brilliant splendour of earth and sky. From the ter- 
 race below, he caught the flutter of the baroness's light dress 
 beside the breakfast-table. Crowds of hungry doves, crows, 
 and sparrows were perched upon the boughs of the trees just 
 beyond the terrace. The rogues knew well enough the hour 
 when Beatrice scattered crumbs for them, and there between 
 the beds bright with stocks and asters stood the beneficent 
 fairy herself, in her pure white morning dress and the hat 
 wreathed with water-lilies which had aroused Elsbeth's envy. 
 How glad and gay she looked ! How merrily she laughed at
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 127 
 
 Herr von Lindau's clumsy attempts to skip across the flower- 
 beds to meet her I In Warne's eyes she seemed an angel ol 
 light encircled by a halo of peace and purity, contrasted with 
 the mocking vision of the night flitting in the moonlight 
 across the desert moorland. 
 
 "And that lovely creature I am supposed to hate?" ho 
 nuittered to himself. " Brown Elsie's boasted penetration fails 
 her indeed if she can imagine such hatred possible." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Sunday was nearing its close when Otto paid his daily visit 
 to the invalid in the moorland hut. He tied his horse to the 
 crooked birch-tree, and approached Brown Elsie, who was 
 crouching among the heather on the edge of the swamp, while 
 Ami, at a short distance, was cropping his evening meal from 
 the few patches of grass he was able to find. Elsbeth had 
 propped her head, now adorned with a garland of yellow mari- 
 golds, upon both hands, and her large eyes, undimmed by 
 any attention to reading or writing, were gazing fixedly at the 
 setting sun, that hovered, a ball of dull crimson fire, just above 
 the horizon of the moor. 
 
 " What are you thinking of, Elsbeth ?" Arning asked, 
 kindly, touching her shoulder as he spoke. 
 
 She turned at his touch without testifying any surprise, 
 and said, in the dreamy, vaguely mysterious way peculiar to her 
 at times, " I am looking at the sun. They say it is now going 
 to another country, called America, where the grain grows of 
 itself, and no one need strive or work hard. There are no rich 
 and poor there, but all arc equal and all are happy." 
 
 The baron stood surprised at her reply. " ]My poor child,
 
 128 A FA MIL r FEUD. 
 
 who put that into your head ?" he asked. " There is hard 
 work eveiywhere, and want and misery on the other side of 
 the eartli as well as here." 
 
 She shook her head incredulously. " You never were 
 there," she said, " but the man who told me came from there, 
 and wanted to take us back with him, years ago, when we were 
 in the large town on the water. He was a very grand gentle- 
 man, and very kind, but grandmother would not go with him, 
 although I wanted to, oh, so much !" 
 
 " Your fine castles in the air would have been lamentably 
 destroyed," the baron rejoined. " And be sure," he added, 
 with a melancholy smile, " that any one who means honestly 
 and is in earnest can find constant occupation in any country ; 
 it will not, it is true, make a paradise around him, but it will 
 give him some degree of content. Remember your grand- 
 mother, Elsie ; you must stay here for her sake ; she is old 
 and weak, and will soon be entirely dependent upon your 
 care." 
 
 Elsbeth did not reply, except by a scornful glance. 
 
 Meanwhile, Otto had unwound the bandage from the limb 
 of the wounded deer. 
 
 "^ Our patient is nearly well," he said, cheerfully. " Friiu- 
 lein von Arning will be very grateful to you for the care you 
 have taken of Ami." 
 
 Moorland Elsie dreamed no longer ; she was once more the 
 same mocking, malicious sprite whom the steward had seen on 
 the previous night. 
 
 " Oh, yes," she drawled, without turning her eyes from the 
 sun, " only — a few weeks ago she would have been more 
 grateful still." 
 
 " A few weeks ago?" Otto repeated. "What do you mean 
 by that, my girl ?" 
 
 " Oh, everything is dificrent when one has a sweet- 
 heart "
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 129 
 
 The deer jumped aside ; his physician had touched the 
 ■wound less gently than usual, but Otto possessed enough self- 
 control to appear indifferent. 
 
 " A sweetheart?" he exclaimed, with a laugh. "You are 
 dreaming, Elsbeth ! Are you speaking of Friiulein von Arning?" 
 
 " If it is a secret, I will keep it," said Elsbeth, quite inno- 
 cently. " You, her cousin, of course know that she is betrothed 
 to Herr von Lindau. I saw it when they first came here to- 
 gether and Ami got only one glance for every three bestowed 
 upon him. Is it not natural, Herr Baron ?" 
 
 Brown Elsie now turned ; the last glimmering spark of the 
 sun's disk had vanished, and with it every trace of cheerful- 
 ness from the baron's countenance. 
 
 " Yes, perfectly natural," he replied, mechanically. " I see 
 that Ami is more nearly recovered than I thought possible. 
 You need not expect me for the next few days." 
 
 Elsbeth had approached the deer. She now stared the 
 baron in the face for a moment, and then burst into an insolent 
 laugh. 
 
 " Els ! Els !" her grandmother's shrill voice was heard call- 
 ing from the hut. Elsbeth paid no heed, but laughed on. 
 
 Her bold merriment grated upon the baron. He put a 
 force upon himself to ask, quietly, " What amuses you, Els- 
 beth?" 
 
 " Oh, I am only pleased. They are such a handsome couple, 
 Herr von Lindau and the young Friiulein. Do you not think 
 so, Herr Baron ?" 
 
 » Doubtless Good-night, Elsbeth." 
 
 Arning untied his horse and sprang into the saddle. The 
 noble animal reared and curveted, unaccustomed to feel as 
 now both whip and spur. For an instant it stood nearly 
 upright upon its hind legs, and then plunged madly into the 
 depths of the forest, where horse and rider were instantly lost 
 to sight.
 
 130 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 "■ Els ! Els ! Curse you, girl, do you not hear me ?" old 
 Stina screamed, still more shrilly. 
 
 " I'm coming, granny, I'm coming," Elsbeth at last deigned 
 to reply, approaching the hut sLpwly and loiteringly. " What 
 is it ?" she asked, looking in at uie little window. 
 
 " Come here ! come in, you " And a flood of abuse 
 
 followed. 
 
 Elsbeth leaned with both arms upon the window-sill and 
 screamed in chorus, in which also the black cat joined, for hi-? 
 young mistress had unintentionally thrust him from his seat. 
 
 At the sound of her favourite's cries the old woman ceased 
 scolding with a gasp, and the brown imp outside scrambled in 
 at the window, saying, pettishly, " Here I am ; and now talk 
 sense, if you want an answer." 
 
 " Why do you not come when your feeble old grandmother 
 calls?" the hag asked, coughing. " All my breath has gone. 
 You will bring me to my grave. And all because of the crazy 
 Ermsdaler baron ! Have I not his proud aunt and himself too 
 in my power ? Did I not show you the other day that I can 
 treat him as I please ?" 
 
 " He has small reason to praise my kindness," Elsbeth 
 observed, maliciously. " But no matter for that. I like the 
 Herr Baron, and you shall not abuse him." 
 
 In fact. Otto's bold, commanding manner had impressed the 
 girl as few things upon earth impressed her. Nevertheless, 
 she did not for one moment, hesitate to give him pain in the 
 gratification of her hatred of the Buchdorf Fraulein, and in 
 lier love of intrigue which had come to be second nature to 
 her. 
 
 The old woman lay back in her chair bseathless and pant- 
 ing ; the cat jumped up in her lap. 
 
 " You must not vex me, Els," she groaned. "I am a 
 feeble old woman, sick too — this cursed cough, — but I am not 
 dying; no, no, far from it," she said, with energy, sitting
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 131 
 
 upright. "Do you hear? flir from it. Do not think it, my 
 girl. The doctor is a fool if he says so. Town doctors are 
 always fools. And he did not say that I was dying, either. 
 Eh ? my little Els, my girl of gold ; he did not say that ?" 
 
 Elsbeth shrugged her shoulders in)patiently and sat down 
 upon tlie wooden bench by the window. 
 
 '' I shall be all right in the winter," the old woman went on. 
 " I was always better by the stove than out in the sunshine. 
 Dear, dear I the sun has set already, and the burgomaster's 
 Lisbeth is coming to-day. Quick, Els, — what have you found 
 out about her and Steffen?" 
 
 " A great deal, granny," was the reply ; " but I am tired of 
 running about for you day and night, that you may make the 
 stupid peasants stare, while I get nothing in return. In three 
 days I am going to the Ermsdal ' Kirmess.' I want money for 
 a new petticoat, and I will not tell you a word unless you give 
 nie two thalers." 
 
 The old woman uttered a cry as if her grandchild had struck 
 her. 
 
 " Two thalers I" she repeated. " As if I had two thalers ! 
 I have no money, Els. Your grandmother is a poor old 
 beggar, who does not know where to get even a plate of potatoes 
 for your daily meal." 
 
 " Why do you tell me such nonsense ?" Elsbeth said, 
 peevishly. " I suppose you thought I was sleeping, but I saw 
 and heard too the other night when you were counting out 
 the gold pieces you always bring from Ermsdal." And going 
 over to the painted box, she rattled at its lid, and continued^ 
 " Here in this chest which you always keep fast locked you 
 have plenty of money." 
 
 Her words threw her grandmother into another rage. She 
 started up, brandishing her spindle in the air as if she would 
 have felled the girl to the earth. 
 
 "Oho!" Elsbeth slowly ejaculated. " The times are past,"
 
 132 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 and her eyes flashed, " when you could beat me. Have a care, 
 granny !" 
 
 The withered hand dropped the spindle. " Cursed brat," 
 the crone hissed, in a voice stiflod with fury, " you shall 
 aot anger me, or I shall die ; and I will not die ! Yes, God 
 of heaven," she cried, raising her hands in a kind of savage 
 ecstasy, " you are just. In punishment for my sins you 
 Iiave cursed my old age with this devil in human form in place 
 of a loving child " 
 
 "Yes, a devil!" Elsbeth repeated; "for I am what your 
 blows have made me ! And now give me the money !" 
 
 " Yes," gasped the old woman, " you shall have the money, 
 Els ; but it will bring you no blessing." 
 
 "Let the blessing go; but be quick!" was the insolent 
 reply. 
 
 Mother Stina sank back into her chair, and drew from the 
 chaos of folds in her dress a worn leather purse, whence she 
 began to count out in pennies and groschen the sum desired, 
 moaning as she did so so piteously that the black cat stopped 
 licking his bruises and stared compassionately into his mis- 
 tress's face. 
 
 Elsbeth negligently took the money and counted it before 
 she began to tell what she had promised. Scarcely had she 
 spoken the first words when there was heard a low, peculiar 
 tap upon the door of the hut, and her grandmother bade her 
 be silent. 
 
 " Quick, Els," she whispered, " light the lamp and close the 
 shutters. Then open the door and go, and if Lisbeth comes 
 say I am not at home." 
 
 The girl obeyed the first part of this command without 
 delay, and soon the feeble rays of a tallow candle mingled 
 with the dying light of day within the hut ; but Elsbeth did 
 not withdraw. 
 
 " I know very well," she said, " that the rats are waiting
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 133 
 
 outside for the paper bait wliicli you hang out every year for 
 the steward, grandmother. And I am no longer a child to be 
 sent out of the way. I must know what game my good friend 
 Warne is playing " 
 
 " Go, Els, go ; you cannot stay here," her grandmother 
 begged her, almost gently. 
 
 Elsbeth's naked foot stamped impatiently upon the clay 
 loor of the hut. " I shall stay," she replied, defiantly. "You 
 do not know what I am about with the steward. Hush, 
 j;;ranny ! I shall stay, and woe to you if you betray me I" 
 
 In less than a minute the girl had climbed upon the high 
 bed and drawn the curtains close, leaving only a small chink 
 through which she could see all that went on in the hut. The 
 crone sighed profoundly, closed the window, and then hobbled 
 upon her crutch to the door. The visitor, whom Mother 
 Stina i-eceived with a low curtsy, was a bent, shabbily-dressed 
 individual, muffled past all recognition in cloak and wraps. 
 When, however, the door was closed behind him, he threw his 
 disguise aside and stood revealed as our old acquaintance the 
 usurer, Moses Aaron, from M . 
 
 After a quarter of an hour he took his leave, a folded pai)er 
 in his pocket, and Mother Stina, with trembling hands, loosened 
 a stone in the hearth and hid beneath it a packet of bank- 
 notes. Elsbeth never betrayed her presence by the slightest 
 breath, although her curiosity reaped a richer harvest than 
 she had hoped for. 
 
 In the course of the evening, at stated intervals, two other 
 
 usurers from M presented themselves, and were received 
 
 by the moorland hag in the same manner. At ten o'clock, 
 however, all was dark and still in the hut. The window stood 
 wide open, and the moonlight shone full upon the bed. There 
 lay old Stina, her breath coming quick and loud in uneasy 
 slumber. But Elsbeth stood for a long while beside the sleep- 
 ing crone, her delicate brows knit in a gloomy frown, gazing 
 
 12
 
 134 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 out upon the moor, beautiful, menacing, implacable, like an 
 avenging angel by the bedside of a dying sinner. 
 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 Meanwhile, Aunt Bernhardine was sitting in her black 
 leathern arm-chair, beside the solitary tallow candle, which 
 was all that she, not one whit more extravagant than Mother 
 Stina, was wont to burn. Her knitting lay in her lap, and 
 her weary head was sunk upon her breast, for she had been, 
 as ever, busy since the dawn of day, and midnight was now 
 not far distant. She had a piece of news for Otto, and would 
 not go to rest without seeing him. 
 
 She heard the village clock strike twelve, and soon after- 
 ward the watch-dog began to bark, and the clatter of a horse's 
 hoofs resounded in the court-yard. 
 
 The canoness listened. She heard Otto tap with his riding- 
 whip on the window of the hostler's room and immediately 
 afterwards enter the house, where, contrary to his custom, he 
 strode past the sitting-room and went directly to his own 
 apartment. 
 
 Friiulein von Tretten waited a moment longer, and then, 
 with a shake of her head, she took the candle, and going into 
 the hall opened the door and descended the two steps that led 
 to the court-yard. There she found one groom leading Otto's 
 horse up and down to cool, and another standing by, sleepy 
 and yawning, while the red light of a stable-lantern contended 
 feebly with the silver rays of the moon. Usually when Otto 
 returned thus late he quietly led his horse to the stable him- 
 self, without arousing the men. 
 
 " What," the canoness asked herself, " was the use of his 
 wakening these men, who need all the sleep they can get to 
 make them fit for the morrow's work ?' ' 
 
 " What is the matter, Philip ?" she said, aloud, holding 
 her hand before the flame of her candle. 
 
 " Willthe Fraulein only take the trouble to look at Castor?"
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 135 
 
 one of the men replied, pointing to the horse, which was 
 covered with foam. " One half-hour longer, and there would 
 have been little use in leading him up and down. I don't 
 know what the matter is. The Herr Baron usually takes 
 such good care of his horses ; we never are allowed to overweight 
 them ; and just look at this ! Where can he have been ?" 
 
 " That is no affair of yours," the canoness said, severely, 
 turning towards the house again. " See that the horse takes 
 no harm, and be quiet." 
 
 She was quite above allowing the servants to discuss their 
 master's conduct in her presence, but she lacked the delicacy 
 of feeling which would have granted him the solitude that he 
 so evidently desired. What she had to tell also goaded her ; 
 there is for many of us a strange charm in the telling of a 
 piece of unpleasant news. Therefore she slowly ascended the 
 stairs and opened the door of Otto's study. It was dark and 
 empty. She crossed the little room and knocked at the oppo- 
 site door : no answer. She laid her hand upon the latch : the 
 door was locked. 
 
 " Otto !" she cried, impatiently. 
 
 " Good-night, aunt," came by way of reply. 
 
 But the canoness was not to be thus repulsed. " What 
 does this mean ?" she asked, half in anger, half in entreaty. 
 " You have been galloping about the woods until midnight, 
 and have not come in to see me. Your horse is in a dreadful 
 condition. What is the matter ? If anything has happened, 
 tell me what it is. Do not keep up this perpetual reserve ! 
 Answer me. Otto I You are not ill?" she added, when Otto 
 still kept silent. 
 
 " I am not ill," Arning answered, at last, " and nothing 
 extraordinary has happened ; but I pray you, my dear aunt, 
 excuse me for to-day ; I am very tired. To-morrow I will talk 
 with you as long as you please." 
 
 The canoness looked searchingly around for fear of listeners,
 
 136 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 and then said to licr nophew, in an undertone, " Tannen has 
 been here with some bad news. Will you wait until to-mor- 
 row to hear it ?" 
 
 " Oh, no !" wearily ; " speak." 
 
 " I can hardly credit it, but he asserts that Beatrice is to be 
 betrothed to a Herr von Lindau, a mere boy, twenty-one years 
 of age, whom her mother has in training for her." 
 
 " She is betrothed to him." 
 
 " Is betrothed !" Aunt Bernhardine repeated. " Already ? 
 Oh, now I understand it all. Indeed you have good cause for 
 anxiety, my poor Otto. If this be so the property is lost 
 forever !'' 
 
 The canoness heard her nephew spring up impatiently. 
 " The property 1" he exclaimed, passionately. " The property I 
 I pray you to leave me in peace, Aunt Bernhardine !" 
 
 Involuntarily she retreated from the door. " Good heavens. 
 Otto, be reasonable !" she said ; " I cannot mean to trouble 
 you. Surely I have given proof sufficient that I have your 
 welfare more at heart than my own. It cannot be my fault 
 that Buchdorf is lost to you." 
 
 And she left the room, not indeed to sleep, — this confirma- 
 tion of her worst forebodings affected her too deeply. In the 
 chamber above her own she heard the baron pace to and fro 
 the whole night long. There was no repose for him either. 
 In the few hours that had elapsed since Elsbeth's malicious 
 announcement he had probed the depths of his heart as never 
 before during the long sixteen years of apparent calm — the 
 calm of frozen waters — spent at Ermsdal. Had he not always 
 attributed the cold indifference with which upon his visits to 
 the capital he had regarded all women, even the most lovely, 
 to the bitter experiences of his youth that had robbed him 
 forever of the capacity for affection ? Now he knew that it 
 was the imperishable image of a child — a mere child — that had 
 made any later impression upon his heart impossible ; a child,
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 137 
 
 too, whom he had treated with but scant kindness, and had 
 imagined he could hate. Elsbeth's words had dissipated the 
 carefully guarded il'usion of years. 
 
 " Good God !" he groaned, " must this girl drag me 
 through every phase of mortal anguish ? One blessing, how- 
 ever, is the result of this alienation," he continued, pursuing 
 another train of thought, " I shall not, as her guardian, be 
 forced myself to place her hand in that of another." 
 
 By degrees he grew calmer. In the heart beating within 
 these four walls how many a bitter conflict had raged, — con- 
 flicts never dreamed of by those who saw the grave, silent 
 man steadfastly engaged in the performance of each day's 
 task. 
 
 When the first dawn of day appeared through his uncur- 
 tained windows the baron hurriedly chang d his dress, and 
 half an hour afterwards he was in the court-yard, giving 
 orders for the day to the throng of labourers and servants. 
 No one noticed any alteration in his demeanour, no one 
 guessed that he had just consigned to oblivion the fiiirest 
 vision of his life, — tha last of his youth. Aunt Bernhardine 
 alone believed that she understood him, and could not com- 
 prehend why Otto, who knew how thoroughly she shared hia 
 grief, should never by a single word refer to the conversation 
 of the previous night. 
 
 12*
 
 138 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The morning of Herr von Tannen's dinner had arrived, a 
 fnir, sunny September morning. Frau von Arning, in com- 
 pliance with her daughter's urgent entreaties, had consented to 
 be present, and she was, it can readily be understood, looking 
 forward with a certain degree of agitation to meeting the 
 relative whom she both dreaded and hated. 
 
 Beatrice, no less although more agreeably agitated, spent 
 the morning in her room. The steward was busy in the court- 
 yard. The only person entirely at ease on this day was Herr 
 von Lindau, who sat in one of the wide-windowed recesses of 
 the drawing-room, covering a light wooden fan of the young 
 baroness's with blue dots, which Beatrice laughingly assured 
 him might really, with the assistance of a brilliant imagination, 
 pass for forget-me-nots. A servant announced that the carriage 
 was in readiness, and Beatrice made her appearance in a rich 
 dress of delicate pink silk, with diamonds about her throat, 
 on her arms, and in her chestnut hair. By a tacit agreement 
 iipon the subject of the toilet between mother and daughter, 
 the latter wore simple muslins except upon festal occasions 
 like the present, and then she consented to gratify Theresa's 
 maternal pride by appearing in all the magnificence of the 
 heiress. 
 
 As she entered, Herr von Lindau arose, and with a well- 
 turned compliment presented her with the fan which he had 
 just completed. The maid packed the carriage with plaids and 
 wraps, parasols and umbrellas, and Frau von Arning urged 
 every one to haste and saw that nothing was forgotten. At 
 last the ladies took their places, and Lindau insisted upon
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 139 
 
 driving and yielding his place inside the barouche to Hcrr 
 Warne. 
 
 Theresa was prevailed upon to consent. Warne took his 
 place opposite her upon the back seat, while the young officer 
 triumphantly took the reins. 
 
 For a while all went well. Beatrice complimented the guest 
 upon his unexpected skill, and Frau von Arniug conquered 
 her fears .sufficiently to take out the newspapers which were to 
 furnish amuseuicnt during the long drive. Beatrice also took 
 up a paper, urA Warne diligently scanned the fields on either 
 side of the read. 
 
 Thus about ?.a hour passed. The carriage was just ascend- 
 ing quite a steep hill, when Beatrice, pointing to an article in 
 her paper, exclaimed, " Mamma, did you know that Ilerr von 
 Arning was a famous physician ?" 
 
 " At least I knew that he studied medicine for a long time," 
 Theresa replied, with a shrug. She had just succeeded in 
 banishing the coming meeting from her mind, and it was 
 exceedingly unpleasant to have it thus recalled. 
 
 " Yes, but he has become famous," Beatrice peisisted. 
 " Just read the praises lavished here upon one of his medical 
 essays ; it has gained a prize." 
 
 " Really, Beatrice," her mother coldly interrupted her, " I 
 cannot see what possible interest HeiT von Arning's medical 
 capacity can possess for us." 
 
 " Excuse me, my dear mother, but his medical capacity 
 seems to me to be the very thing which should interest us," 
 F3eatrice eagerly rejoined. She spoke hurriedly, and her 
 cheeks glowed. " You have often told me how, during your 
 stay in Italy with papa, Herr von Arning took every pos- 
 sible means, short of open violence, to — well, yes, I can find 
 no other word for it — to bring about my death. Still, while 
 ho was in Euchdorf I rob only did not decline in health, 
 but I grew perfectly well ; and certainly, if he is so skil-
 
 140 A FA MIL r FEUD. 
 
 ful a physician, that cannot have taken place against his 
 will." 
 
 The steward pricked up his ears, and Theresa held her 
 haughty head erect, but the reproof she would have uttered 
 died upon her lips in a cry of terror. 
 
 The carriage had meanwhile reached the summit of the 
 hill, and Lindau, whose attention was entirely absorbed by the 
 conversation behind him, was thoughtless enough to allow the 
 horses to begin the descent of the steep declivity at a brisk 
 trot, which naturally soon became a rapid gallop. Theresa's 
 scream first reminded Emil of what he was doing, and then, to 
 repair his error, he tugged so furiously at the reins that the 
 foam upon the poor animals' bits was soon flecked with blood, 
 and they grew wild with fright. 
 
 Frau von Arning, half fainting with terror, clung to the 
 cushions of the carriage, but Beatrice sprang up, her eyes 
 flashing — not with fear, the road was perfectly good, and be- 
 gides she was used to tearing down hill in her pony-wagon 
 when her mother was not with her, — but she could not bear to 
 see her favourites so cruelly ill-treated. 
 
 " Loosen the reins, Herr von Lindau," she cried, imperiously, 
 in a voice trembling with anger. 
 
 But the steward, with much coolness, clambered in an 
 instant upon the box, and, pushing the young baron aside 
 without ceremony, seized the reins. The horses instantly 
 recognized the accustomed hand, and Theresa was partially re- 
 assured, although of course the carriage could not be imme- 
 diately stopped. 
 
 At last, however, they reached the valley, and all descended 
 for a while to recover from the fright they had experienced. 
 Lindau humbly ofiered his arm to Theresa, but she read 
 the repentant sinner such a severe lecture that he slipped 
 away and meekly stood by Beatrice, who was standing petting 
 the tired horses and feeding them with the sugar she always
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 141 
 
 provided for Herr von Tannen's macaw. The poor young 
 fellow was scarcely better received in this quarter. In fact, 
 the only contented member of the party was Herr Warne. 
 
 " These last ten minutes," he reflected in high glee, " have 
 lost this exemplary young baron more ground in the estimation 
 of the lovely heiress than he can regain in six months. The 
 Frilulein is almost fonder of animals than of our noble human 
 kind. She will not soon forgive him the blood on tho.*.e 
 horses' bits." 
 
 After a short rest they took the road again, and soon came 
 in sight of the comfortable old mansion of Wingen. Theresa 
 involuntarily pressed her hand to her heart, and could not re- 
 frain from saying, " Indeed I should be glad if something at 
 the last moment prevented Otto von Arning from coming to 
 this dinner." 
 
 "But why, mamma dear?" asked Beatrice. "I would 
 venture to wager that our cousin will meet you with all the 
 courtesy you could desire." 
 
 " By your leave, Fraulein von Arning, that seems to me by 
 no means certain," the steward remarked, looking over his 
 shoulder from the box where he was seated. He knew that 
 his words harmonized with Theresa's thoughts, and this em- 
 boldened him. " The Herr Baron can no more than yourself 
 have forgotten what has happened, and it is, besides, hardly to 
 be expected that sixteen years' of struggle for daily bi'cad, in 
 constant and familiar intercourse with peasants and labourers, 
 will have made his manner more courteous than it used to be." 
 
 " A struggle for daily bread?" Beatrice repeated, incredu- 
 lously. " You exaggerate unpardonably, Herr Warne. You 
 will shortly tell me, I suppose, that Cousin Otto was in danger 
 of starving." 
 
 " And if I did, it would not be very wide of the truth," 
 the steward replied, calmly. " HeiT von Arning not only in- 
 habited a crumbling ruin, as you well know, Frliuleiu Beatrice,
 
 142 A FA MIL r FEUD. 
 
 but I have learned from credible witnesses that in the firet 
 years of his residence at Ermsdal he frequently scarcely had 
 a piece of dry bread for supper. Madame your mother will 
 confirm what I say." 
 
 " Most certainly," Theresa negligently remarked. 
 
 Beatrice stared at her mother in wide-eyed amazement. 
 Horror made her lips mute, but her heart cried out all the 
 louder, " Starve 1 he ? Is it possible ? and while we were 
 rolling in luxury!" 
 
 The fact which the baroness had confirmed as a matter of 
 course seemed to the girl so monstrous that her mind almost 
 refused to credit it. 
 
 The carriage turned into the Wingen court-yard and drew 
 up before the terrace in front of the hall door. Lili von 
 Tannen, with her elder sister, stood upon the threshold to wel- 
 come the new arrivals, and overwhelmed Beatrice with gay 
 caresses as she took off her hat and light wrap, but Beatrice 
 could not reply in kind to her friend's merry banter. The 
 words " he might have starved" seemed burned into her very 
 soul. And how coldly, how indifferently it had been spoken 
 of by people who still added to his misery by accusing him of 
 a crime which he perhaps — no, which he certainly never had 
 committed. She was ashamed of her costly dress, the rustling 
 of her silken skirt annoyed her, and when she was alone with 
 her mother in the dressing-room to which her young friends 
 conducted her, she hastily took the diamond stars from her 
 hair, slipped off her bracelets, and concealed the diamond 
 locket, which she would not take off because it contained 
 her father's hair, among the folds of the tulle that she wore 
 about her neck. Then she entered the drawing-room at her 
 mother's side with downcast eyes and beating heart. 
 
 In the mean while Herr von Tannen, from the window of 
 his own private sanctum, saw one carriage after another roll 
 up to the door. He had carried Arning off to this retreat
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 143 
 
 of his immediately upon his arrival, and was discussing indif- 
 ferent matters with him until finally he began : " My dear 
 fellow, before our little festivity begins I must make a confes- 
 sion to you. Frau von Arning has yielded to the entreaties 
 of her daughter, whom no human being can withstand, and 
 has accepted my invitation." 
 
 A gleam of delight flashed across Otto's features. " To 
 Beatrice's entreaties?" he repeated. 
 
 " Yes ; the little witch reminded her mother that it would 
 be impossible always to avoid meeting you, if you were re- 
 solved to re-enter society." 
 
 His usual expression of melancholy gravity settled again 
 upon the baron's face. 
 
 " That was her reason, then," he said, in a low tone. " Well, 
 the young lady is perfectly right to advise that what must be 
 done be done quickly. And indeed I do not in the least 
 dread this meeting, Tannen ; I am prepared for it." 
 
 The repose of manner which characterized Otto's utterance 
 of these sentiments was so different from the morbid irrita- 
 bility which he was wont to display at any mention of his rela- 
 tives, that Tannen looked dubiously at him for a moment be- 
 fore he felt sufficiently reassured to exclaim, in a hopeful tone, 
 " Are you in earnest, Otto ? Oh, if you are ! If I could only 
 enjoy the delight of seeing my two dearest friends clasp hands 
 in amity beneath my roof!" 
 
 Otto shook his head, with a sad smUe. " You dream, Tannen," 
 he replied. " There can be no amity between us. I know 
 what words are on your lips," he went on, with a deprecatory 
 gesture, " but do not utter them. You know me too well not 
 to be aware that the old hatred, the old desire for revenge, no 
 longer lives within me. I should not oppose a reconciliation. 
 I have long felt how unhappy was the destiny that drove 
 me to floe the woman who was my accuser. Frau von Arning 
 could not but act as she did : if she was over-hasty, it was I
 
 144 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 who provoked her to be so. My rancour towards her is long 
 since dead, for I see in her not the cause of my unhappy fat€, 
 but its tool. Therefore a meeting with Frau von Arning has 
 no terrors for me. But it is not so with her ; she regards me 
 as her child's murderer : that no mother can forgive." 
 
 Greatly touched, the vivacious little man shook his head at 
 this unexpected declaration. " How changed you are, my 
 dear Otto !" he said. " I need not tell you how this gentle judg- 
 ment of your enemies raises you in my estimation; but, to 
 speak frankly, I had not expected it of you." 
 
 " Because you took the utterances of a morbid state of mind 
 for the expression of my genuine opinion," Otto replied, with 
 a smile. " But no more of this : the day was to be devoted to 
 pleasure. What carriage is that just driving up the avenue?" 
 
 " It is Frau von Arning's, and that scoundrel Warne is on 
 the box ! I had to invite him for the baroness's sake, but if 
 the fellow had understood German — that is, polite German — 
 he would have stayed where he was. Come, the Buchdorfers are 
 the last," the old baron concluded, turning to Otto. " Why, 
 I thought you were perfectly calm," he added, noticing his 
 sudden pallor. 
 
 " I am calm," his friend assured him. 
 
 " Then come to the window, instead of remaining so in the 
 background. Look at my little godchild Beatrice, and tell 
 me if any mortal breathing could refuse a request from those 
 lovely lips." 
 
 Otto obeyed, and without betraying the slightest emotion 
 watched the ladies Von Arning descend from the coach. Tan- 
 nen watched him in turn. 
 
 " You stand there as stiff and straight as my old yew- 
 tree," he said, at last. " Verily, Otto, I admire you ! Were I 
 your age, — but I forget, — Beatrice is not after your taste ; as 
 a child you never thought her pretty. Come to the drawing- 
 room, and let us have this meeting over as soon as possible."
 
 A FA MIL r FEUD. 145 
 
 When Frau von Arning entered the reception-room she 
 scanned in a kind of dread the different groups of people col- 
 lected there, but without discovering her cousin. She had 
 never pictured Otto to herself other than she remembered him 
 in the stormy interview she had had with him years before at 
 Buchdorf, and was almost startled when a man of grave, digni- 
 fied presence appeared beside Baron von Tannen, and in a few 
 courteous words of greeting, without any reference whatever 
 to the past, easily helped her to conquer her embarrassment. 
 A weight fell from her heart, and for the first time in her 
 life she felt grateful to her cousin. 
 
 The conversation was not prolonged, consisting as it did of 
 the exchange of a few conventional phrases, and Beatrice took 
 no part in it. 
 
 When Frau von Arning joined the hostess, Lindau thought 
 it time to recall himself to the baron's remembrance, and to 
 confirm an acquaintance which both his major and his mamma 
 thought so desirable. He had been standing hitherto in a win- 
 dowed recess with Warne, and when he approached Otto the 
 steward accompanied him. They had been in a measure left 
 to themselves, Lindau being as yet a stranger in a society 
 where Warne could never be anything else, being admitted to 
 it only upon sufferance. 
 
 When Emil, after a few words of self-introduction, held out 
 his hand to Von Arning, Warne, with matchless insolence, did 
 the same ; but Otto so entirely ignored both the hand and its 
 owner, while he talked frankly and courteously with Lindau, 
 that there was no course possible for the steward but to with- 
 draw. 
 
 This little scene aroused the young officer's curiosity, and 
 with boyish want of tact he asked Von Arning what induced 
 him to treat the steward with such contempt. 
 
 With less reserve than was his wont with strangers, Otto 
 replied, haughtily, " I never give my hand to a scoundrel I 
 Q 13
 
 146 ^ FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 Pardon me, Ilcrr von Lindau," he said, interrupting himself, 
 " I trust he is not a friend of yours." 
 
 " A friend of mine ?" the officer said, with a laugh. " God 
 forbid ! What could suggest such an idea to you, Ilerr Baron ? 
 A miserable parvenu ! His father was, I think, an old-clothes 
 dealer in Konigsberg. But I confess I am curious to know 
 what disgraceful act the man has beerw guilty of He seems to 
 be accounted honest by the people about here." 
 
 " It is a long story, and I have no talent for narration," 
 Otto replied. " But any old gossip in the country round can 
 ac(juaint you with the follies and misfortunes of our family, 
 and with the part that fellow has played in them." 
 
 The dinner was very much like other large dinners, quiet 
 and rather formal during the first courses, pleasant and lively 
 when the wine had circulated. At last the coffee was served, 
 and the young people strayed about the front lawn, while their 
 elders were engaged in conversation in the drawing-room. 
 Tannen scarcely left Otto's side ; he watched him as a father 
 would a sensitive child. Of couree the younger people could 
 not but exchange many a whispered remark upon the unac- 
 customed guest, whom they had regarded as a kind of hermit. 
 
 Frau von Arning was also, and very naturally, the subject 
 of much remark. Her long absence, and the guest whom she 
 had brought to Buchdorf with her, furnished inexhaustible 
 stuff for conversation. She was obliged to hear a certain 
 amount of banter addressed to herself with regai'd to her prob- 
 able son-in-law, which, however, she endured with great good 
 humour, acknowledging frankly that the connection would not 
 bo disagreeable to her, but declaring that since the young 
 people themselves were principally concerned in the matter she 
 should not stir a finger to influence their desires. All that 
 she said was so sensible and just that Otto, who could not 
 refrain from observing his enemy narrowly, admitted to him- 
 self that he a^rreed witli her. And now that he saw her with
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 147 
 
 the unprejudiced eyes of sixteen added years, Theresa looked 
 handsomer to him than when Kurt von Arning had brought 
 her to Buchdorf nineteen years before. 
 
 Tannen had just proposed a walk through the park when 
 Fraulein von Arning entered. She looked a little pale, and 
 admitted, in reply to her mother's anxious inquiries, that she 
 had a headache. The baroness seemed much distressed. As 
 soon a.* the least ailment attacked her child all else was for- 
 gaJLdn, even the conventional formalities she usually estimated 
 so highly. She would have gone immediately home, that 
 Doctor Norden might be sent for. Beatrice had some trouble 
 in persuading her to relinquish this intention. 
 
 " Do not send for Doctor Norden," she begged. " If I need 
 a prescription for a slight headache, I am sure Herr von Arning 
 
 will be kind enough " And as she spoke she looked half 
 
 shyly, half confidingly, towards Otto. " But," she added, 
 hastily, not giving Otto time to express his readiness to be of 
 service, " I really need nothing but half an hour's rest. If my 
 dear godpapa will dispense with my society upon his walk and 
 let me play invalid here for a little while, I will rival Lili in 
 the dance this evening. 
 
 Fraulein von Tannen offered to stay with her friend, but 
 this Beatrice would not hear of. She was, therefore, installed 
 in a little morning-room adjoining the drawing-room. Lili 
 arranged a deep arm-chair for her beside a table covered with 
 books, carefully closed the windows, and, placing a fan and 
 vinaigrette within reach, left her to rejoin her other guests. 
 
 As soon as Beatrice was left alone she took from the table 
 a large book, almost too heavy for her little hands, and began 
 to turn over the leaves. It contained, as she knew, the 
 photographs of the baronial mansions of the surrounding 
 country. 
 
 She turned page after page, looking for Ermsdal, and soon 
 found the bare, rude tower. Then she tried to remember the
 
 148 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 aspect of the interior, and searched for Buclidorf, that she 
 might compare the two structures. How spacious and lux- 
 urious was her home in comparison with her cousin's dreary 
 habitation ! Thus she sat dreaming until the sun had nearly 
 set, and steps approaching the door aroused her. She looked 
 up. Otto stood upon the threshold. He had returned among 
 the first from the walk, and, unacquainted with the topography 
 of the house, had opened the door by mistake. Uttering a 
 hurried excuse, he was about to withdraw, but Beatrice called 
 him back. " Oh, pray come in, Herr von Arning. You ought 
 to inquire after your patient. But indeed that is not the 
 reason," she added, gravely, as Otto obeyed her invitation, 
 " why I beg you to remain. I feel quite well again, and I 
 long to thank you for Ami's recovery. I should have done 
 it before," she went on, hesitating, " but mamma — you must 
 not be angry, I really have never had an opportunity to tell 
 mamma how I met you — she is not kindly disposed towards 
 you, and so " 
 
 There was an enchanting grace in this frank avowal. Otto 
 bent over the hand which Beatrice extended to him, and 
 pressed it to his lips. The crimson upon her cheek deepened, 
 and she did not finish her sentence, but he replied, — 
 
 " I wish the baroness could but conquer her personal 
 antipathy towards me as completely, Friiulein von Arning, as 
 yoa have been able to overcome your dread of Brown Elsie, 
 who can now boast a degree of confidence reposed in her by 
 you which you apparently accord to none of your equals in 
 birth." 
 
 He had never intended to touch upon this subject; but when 
 he saw Beatrice thus in all her enchanting loveliness, and was 
 at the same moment conscious that he had no right even to 
 establish his claim to relationship with this girl, whom he 
 loved with an intensity of which the foolish boy whom she 
 was to marry could not form an idea, he was possessed by an
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 149 
 
 angry pain, which for the moment would have led him, if he 
 could, to pain Beatrice in her turn. 
 
 " And pray what confidence have I reposed in that strange 
 creature?" Beatrice asked, with unaffected surprise. 
 
 " Must I tell you ? The fact of your betrothal to your 
 mother's guest, Friiulein von Arning. You seem amazed, in- 
 dignant ; I hope I have not been the means of injuring the 
 poor child in your eyes." 
 
 " I betrothed ?" Beatrice cried, when she had sufficiently 
 recovered from the shock Von Arning's words had caused her. 
 " Wliat a detestable invention of Elsbeth's ! And to Ilerr von 
 Lindau ? I assure you, Herr von Arning, it is not and never 
 can be true 1 Why do you smile ?" she asked, imperiously. 
 
 " Forgive me. Your kind declaration, which I had not the 
 least right to require, leaves no room for doubt. Only you 
 must not be angry with poor Elsie, whose eyes were her in- 
 formers in this matter, for daring to draw conclusions which 
 chanced to accord perfectly with your mother's expressions." 
 
 Beatrice turned away. " I think you like to vex me," she 
 said, with tears in her eyes. " I cannot convince you except 
 by telling you the truth. Why should I conceal the fact if 
 Herr von Lindau were more to me than a good friend ?" 
 
 To Otto the fading sunlight seemed more brilliant than 
 mid-day splendour, and the little room in his friend's house 
 the entrance to Paradise. Not her words nor her tears, but 
 the childlike sincerity of her manner convinced him of tlie 
 truth of what she said. 
 
 He gently approached her, as she stood still turned from 
 him. " Beatrice, I have offijnded you," he said, in a low, 
 earnest tone. " Forgive me ; my fancies are morbid and con- 
 fused at times, and I say what I do not mean." 
 
 His glance fell upon the open book ; it lay open at the 
 picture of the dreary ruin where he had passed the saddest 
 years of his life. Had she opened it thus ? He could poj; 
 
 J 3*
 
 150 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 doubt it. And in the rush of emotion excited by this convic- 
 tion, Otto miglit have been carried away to say and to declare 
 what he would greatly have regretted afterwards, had not Lili 
 with her n;erry train of friends entered by one door, and 
 Warne presented himself at another, both full of anxious in- 
 quu'ies as to the health of the young baroness, and thus put 
 a stop to any further conversation. 
 
 Wl ile this interview between the cousins had been taking 
 place, the rest of the company had been strolling through 
 the Wingen park. The steward had also been of this party; 
 for no one knew how else to dispose of him. He had even 
 been fortunate enough to secure a companion ; Amanda von 
 Hohenheim, a lady no longer young, had graciously consented 
 to accept him as her escort. She had no cause to regret her 
 condescension, for Warne possessed considerable conversational 
 talent, and did his best to make himself agreeable, while he 
 gratified his love of cunning and intrigue by keeping his ears 
 open for whatever passed between those near whom he might 
 be walking. 
 
 The pair were loitering in a grove on the borders of a 
 mimic lake, when suddenly from the boughs of a tall linden 
 which formed the centre of a group of trees came tlie loud 
 clear note of a cuckoo. Warne started, and cast a glance of 
 fury towards the quarter whence the sound proceeded. But 
 Friiulein von Hohenheim, whose role was rather the senti- 
 mental, stood still and sighed. " Oh, heavens, how charming ! 
 A cuckoo at this late season I Really, Herr Warne, I feel the 
 breath of spring play about me at the sound of that clear 
 note.'' 
 
 " It is a rare phenomenon," Warne remarked, with great 
 presence of mind trying to lead the way from the spot, " and 
 is the forerunner of great good fortune to any lady who hears 
 it." Amanda's sharp black eyes were still watching the 
 thicket to find the "joyous bird of spring." "But that tho
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 151 
 
 omen may not lose effect, it is necessary that the bird should 
 remain concealed from the lady whose luck it is to hear its 
 cry." This was successful. Fraulein von Hohenheim willingly 
 followed where he led. " Does this strike you as superstition, 
 Friiulein von Hohenheim ? It is very generally believed in my 
 home, and you know ' there are more things in heaven and 
 earth than are dreamed of in our philosophy,' " 
 
 " But what good fortune does this note thus heard fore- 
 tell?" Amanda asked, with an affectation of shy curiosity. 
 
 " Great happiness, Fraulein ; so great " But as Warne 
 
 was going, on to spin out a perfect Munchausen web of lies, the 
 clear note was heard again. 
 
 Fraulein von Hohenheim did not look around, but Warne 
 quickened his steps, and as soon as he had succeeded in re- 
 joining another party and getting rid of his companion, he 
 hurried back to the little lake. 
 
 He knew well what species of bird had been concealed in 
 the thicket. Scarcely had he reached the tall linden when 
 there was a rustling amid its branches, a dark form clam- 
 bered from bough to bough, and with a last leap upon tho 
 ground. Brown Elsie, smiling maliciously, stood before the 
 angry man. 
 
 " You go too far, Elsbeth," he said, with suppressed rage. 
 " Your bold conduct is becoming insufferable. How dare you 
 undertake to call me away from the rest?" 
 
 Elsbeth laughed aloud. " Away from that ramrod ? Surely 
 you might endure that without breaking your heart, Hcrr 
 Steward." 
 
 "Insolent wench I" 
 
 " Compose yourself, my dear Ilerr Warne. I have been 
 working hard for you, as you shall hear. You must forgive 
 me my ' cuckoo,' " she added, with a sneer, " for it really is not 
 my fault that no other :'ound makes any impression upon your 
 dull ears."
 
 152 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 The steward was full of impatience. " To business, Els- 
 beth!" he insisted, "and instantly! I cannot stay here." 
 
 "I will keep you no longer. Turn back to the house, 
 and look into the fifth window on the left of the terrace. 
 Twill give you a small surprise. Farewell, my incredulous 
 Herr!" And, clapping her hands, with a burst of mocking 
 laughter at Warne's stupefied expression, Elsbeth turned 
 away and vanished along a narrow path on the edge of the 
 pond. 
 
 Warne, when he had recovered his self-possession, followed 
 the girl's directions. The spectacle that greeted his eyes 
 through the low window was that of his young mistress seated 
 in a lounging-chair by the table, and beside her, apparently 
 engaged in a most interesting conversation. Otto von Arning. 
 
 Was any further confirmation necessary of what Elsbeth 
 had told him upon his midnight visit to her grandmother's 
 hut? 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Supper was announced, and Lindau insisted upon conduct- 
 ing Beatrice, who declared herself perfectly recovered, to table. 
 Seated beside her he did his utmost to engage her attention, but 
 without any great success, for the conversation became general, 
 and its chief interest clustered, to the surprise of all, about 
 Otto von Arning. He felt absolutely gay, and the unwonted 
 sensation made him brilliant indeed. Witty anecdotes, spark- 
 ling jests, quick repartee, came bubbling from his lips as in 
 his merriest student days. It was like nothing but some 
 clear stream, that having been long choked up at last finds 
 an outlet, and dashes from rock to rock, foaming and bright
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 153 
 
 in the sunshine. Even Frau von Arning could not but 
 acknowledge the charm he thus threw around him. 
 
 Meanwhile, Lindau, greatly vexed that his finest speeches 
 received but scant attention from his feir neighbour, sought 
 his consolation in champagne; one bottle after another was 
 emptied into his glass, and the young man became much 
 heated, although not enough so to attract the observation of 
 the other guests. 
 
 The watchful steward alone, whose keen though veiled 
 glance nothing about him escaped, remarked the young man's 
 condition, and upon it founded a fresh scheme for making 
 each of his rivals a tool for the removal of the other from his 
 path. Should it succeed, might he not by unwearying assi- 
 duity hope in time to win, not Beatrice alone, but Buchdorf, 
 whose broad acres were in reality what he most coveted? 
 
 As soon as supper was over, and the young people were 
 preparing for the dance, he proceeded to carry out his plot. 
 
 " It seems to me, Herr Baron, that you are very well 
 pleased with our poor provincial society, although you are, 
 of course, accustomed to a far more brilliant circle in the 
 capital," he addressed Lindau* in his smoothest tones, as he 
 took his arm and led him out upon the dark, lonely terrace. 
 
 " Ah, yes ; it is admirable, all admirable," Emil said, rather 
 thickly, as he sank into a garden chair. " Fine old host, 
 capital wine — eh, Herr Warne ?" 
 
 The steward smiled, since the darkness could not betray 
 him. From the young man's tone he saw that there was 
 powder enough here ready for the flame which he wished to 
 kindle. 
 
 " I really am sorry to interrupt your enjoyment unpleas- 
 antly," he began again, very calmly, " but I need advice and 
 assistance, and I am about to confide implicitly in your pru- 
 dence and judgment." 
 
 At any other time these words would have sounded like
 
 154 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 ridicule even to a man as self-complacent as Lindau, but in 
 the heated condition of his brain he took it all for gospel, 
 and Warne fearlessly continued : " Of course the baroness 
 must know nothing of the danger threatening her idolized 
 daughter." 
 
 " Danger !" Lindau repeated, startled into attention. " Friiu- 
 lein Beatrice in danger ! Speak out, man ! Let no time bo 
 lost." 
 
 " We are not losing time," the wily steward quietly went on. 
 " The peril which I dread will not assail its victim to-day or 
 to-morrow. Doubtless you observed that when we returned 
 from our walk Herr von Arning was engaged in an earnest 
 conversation with Friiulein Beatrice." 
 
 Emil drummed impatiently with his fingers upon the rustic 
 table beside him. 
 
 " He is paying suit to her," Warne continued, " and I fear 
 his suit is by no means a hopeless one " 
 
 " Excuse me, but such an assumption appears to me en- 
 tirely unwarrantable," Lindau here interrupted him, with 
 irritation. 
 
 "Not to those who are conversant with all the circum- 
 stances," Warne went on, coolly. "The baroness, haughty 
 as she is, has a dread of publicity with regard to former 
 family dissensions, and of course I have done what I could 
 to throw the veil of oblivion over the past. This very day 
 1 avoided alluding to it to yourself. But I see that you 
 cannot rightly judge of afiairs without a full knowledge of 
 what has taken place ; and therefore I beg you to listen 
 p-itiently." 
 
 And he forthwith began a minute narrative of Otto's early 
 career, and the crime of which he had been accused. From 
 the time when he had so perjured himself years ago, he had 
 perpetually endeavoured to convince himself of Otto's guilt, 
 and his endeavours had not been entirely without success,
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 155 
 
 especially since he had, several years after the trial, made a 
 certain discovery in the moorland hut. Thus he could speak 
 with a degree of the vrarmth of conviction. 
 
 Emil listened with an interest which, to his honour be it 
 said, sprang not so much from curiosity as from a desire to be 
 of real use to Frau von Arning, and when Warne concluded 
 his cunningly constructed tale with the words, " Herr vun 
 Arning has, as you see, grown wiser with years. Why should 
 he commit murder when his end can be gained by so simple a 
 maans as matrimony?" the young man sprang from his seat, 
 quite beside himself, and paced the terrace to and fro like a 
 caged lion. 
 
 " The wretch ! the villain !" he repeatedly exclaimed. " No, 
 no! this must never be !" 
 
 " It will need both time and cunning to defeat so accom- 
 plished an antagonist," Warne said, slowly. 
 
 " Time and cunning !" Lindau replied, fiercely. " I have 
 no time, and cunning I scorn ! Shall I wait and dally until 
 it is too late? No, the matter must be decided to-morrow." 
 
 " What do you propose ?" the steward asked in apparent 
 anxiety, although he understood perfectly well Lindau's half, 
 involuntary gesture towards his left side, where he was accus- 
 tomed to wear his sword. " I do not understand you, Herr 
 Baron." 
 
 " Between men of honour there is but one way to settle such 
 matters," Lindau said, haughtily, "and that way 1 shall take!" 
 And he hurried into the house. 
 
 Warne rubbed his hands and whistled softly to himself. 
 His puppets were obeying the wires excellently well. Arning^ 
 exquisitely sensitive to any allusion to his past, would be quick 
 enough to accept a challenge. " Both are capital shots," 
 Warne summed up matters ; "both will feel deeply aggrieved; 
 and I am much mistaken if one, at least, does not fall ; it will 
 make but little difiereuce which, fur th ■ survivor can have no
 
 156 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 possible chance 'witli so decided and peculiar a character as 
 Friiulcin Beatrice." 
 
 Meanwhile, Frau von Arning was sitting comfortably at 
 cards, and Beatrice was looking on at the dancers. Her anx- 
 ious mother had requested her not to dance, and she complied 
 all the more readily with this request since Otto had taken his 
 place beside her, and was talking as in the old times, only that 
 the old times had never been half so delightful. She looked 
 up, therefore, with anything but an expression of pleasure 
 when Lindau rudely interrupted the conversation with the 
 brief sentence, " A word with you, Herr von Arning, if you 
 please." 
 
 Otto turned and looked quietly for a moment into the pale* 
 face of the young officer. 
 
 " Has anything unpleasant occurred, Herr von Lindau ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " No, but it may occur shortly," the young man answered, 
 sternly. 
 
 " Then we will try to prevent it," said Otto; and excusing 
 himself to Beatrice, he followed Emil into thWldjoining apart- 
 ment. 
 
 The portiere closed behind the two men ; they stood opposite 
 each other in the small room lighted only by a single carcel 
 lamp. With one hand resting upon the table. Baron Otto 
 coolly and silently awaited the young man's explanation. 
 Lindau, however, experienced a very strange sensation upon 
 finding himself suddenly thus shut off from the brilliant as- 
 semblage and from all that had helped to agitate him. Otto's 
 calm, self-possessed bearing had the effect of a cold bath upon 
 his bewildered sense, and a doubt dawned upon his clouded 
 brain as to whether he had any right to call to account a man 
 whom both his major and his mamma considered one of their 
 most distinguished acquaintances. 
 
 Yet such thoughts came and went like gleams of lightning
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 157 
 
 in his confused mind, and he said, with tolerable firmness, " I 
 should like to know, Herr Baron, by what right you so per- 
 sistently seek Fr'aulein von Arning's society." 
 
 Otto retreated a step, and measured the young man with a 
 haughty look of menace, but, observing that Emil was evidently 
 not his own master, he quietly replied, " It is a question that 
 you have no right to ask ; but, since our relationship is prob- 
 ably unknown to you, I gladly inform you that Fr'aulein von 
 Arning is my distant cousin." 
 
 " You mistake, Herr Baron ! I am perfectly acquainted with 
 this connection. I know all your past !" cried Lindau, with 
 flashing eyes, advancing a step, " and this very knowledge 
 prompts my question." 
 
 " Pray come to the point, Herr von Lindau," said Otto, 
 coolly. " You know my past — what then ?" 
 
 " What then ?" The baron's perfect calmness began to con- 
 fuse Emil. He went on, almost with a stammer, " But — but 
 do you not see that we must fight?" 
 
 " No," Otto curtly replied. " First sleep off the champagne 
 you have takehj-Herr von Lindau." 
 
 *' Herr Baron !" 
 
 " I can take no notice of any challenge given by you in 
 your present condition," Arning continued, composedly. " If 
 to-morrow find you of the same mind, you know where I am 
 to be found, and I i^hall be entirely at 3 our service." 
 
 And turning on his heel, he left the young man to his own 
 reflections, which were of a decidedly mixed character. 
 
 On the same evening Emil von Lindau gained fresh expe- 
 rience of the truth of the old saying, " Better not thrust your 
 finger between bark and trunk, or between quarrelling rela- 
 tives." ^-'careely was he seated in the barouche on the home- 
 ward road, when Beatrice subjected him to such a fire of 
 erv/is-oxamination as soon extracted from his reluctant lips his 
 purpose in calling Otto from the room, and then both ladies 
 
 U
 
 158 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 overwhelmed liiru with a stonu of reproaches to which the re- 
 proof administered to him in the moroing was but as a light 
 summer zephyr. Frau von Arning, in short, required that he 
 should withdraw his challenge, and became angry when he 
 refused to do so. 
 
 She had so rejoiced to find in her dreaded relative instead 
 of a revengeful misauthrope a quiet and as it seemed very 
 unimpassioned man, content to accept matters as they were, 
 who would be sure to listen to reason in case — and she could 
 not silence a secret foreboding on this point — Kurt's second 
 will should contain anything detrimental to his daughter's in- 
 terests ; and now this armistice which she had resolved to 
 maintain at all hazards was irrevocably broken by her own 
 protege^ — a guest beneath her roof. 
 
 She was so far carried away by her agitation that she not 
 only uttered a eulogium upon Arning's good qualities, but, for 
 the first time in her life, and in opposition perhaps to her set- 
 tled conviction, declared that she began to have doubts as to 
 the proofs of his guilt. 
 
 Beatrice, while her mother was speaking, leaned back in 
 a corner of the coach. There was in her character, simple 
 and childlike as it appeared, a strong dash of the ancient 
 Arning force and determination in which her father had been 
 so entirely deficient. Hitherto her life had afibrded no occa- 
 sion for the display of these qualities. But the feeling which 
 so irresistibly attracted her to Baron Otto had aroused withiu 
 her every faculty that had until now lain dormant. What- 
 ever happened, upon one thing she was resolved : Otto should 
 endure no further misfortune through her family. Thus she 
 sat for a long while pondering upon some mode of extricating 
 matters from their present unhappy complication, while her 
 mother exhausted herself in denunciations of the cause of all 
 the mischief. 
 . The clouds were still dark on Theresa's brow when they
 
 A FA MIL r FEUD. 159 
 
 arrived at Buchdorf. The steward betook himself to his own 
 apartment, and Frau von Arning bade good-night almost 
 immediately and retired, leaving Beatrice and Emil alone in 
 the drawing-room. The latter sank exhausted and depressed 
 into an arm-chair, and Beatrice, standing gravely before him, 
 began : " Herr von Lindau, tell me honestly whether it is not 
 possible for you to withdraw this challenge, or is there any 
 other means of preventing a duel between my cousin and your- 
 self? You know how much mamma would be gi-atified by a 
 little compliance with her wishes on your part, and I entreat 
 you to yield to her." 
 
 " But it cannot be ! there is no way out of it !" Lindau 
 exclaimed, springing up, half beside himself " Friiulein von 
 Arning, you torture me ! You know as well as I that it is 
 impossible." 
 
 In fact, Beatrice had expected no other reply. " I do not 
 understand your code of honour," she said, with surprising 
 calm, " and must therefore acquiesce. Whom have you 
 selected for your second ?" 
 
 " I had not thought of that," he admitted, with hesitation. 
 "I know none of the gentlemen very well; but perhaps Herr 
 von Tannen would consent. What do you think?" 
 
 Lindau stood still and cast an almost timid glance at the 
 young girl, who had never before struck him as so grave and 
 dignified. 
 
 Beatrice nodded an assent. " The choice is a good one," 
 she declared. " And now let me bid you good-night, and hope 
 you will sleep well to strengthen you for the coming day. God 
 grant this affair no wretched conclusion ; and forgive me if I 
 do wrong," she added to herself, as she closed the door behind 
 her, "for by fair means or foul this duel shall be prevented." 
 
 After a short season of reverie, Lindau also retired to his 
 room to seek repose ; but there he found a letter from his 
 mother reminding him that his leave of absence had expired.
 
 100 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 and Uiat lie must be in gurrinon ogain on Tliursday evening. 
 lie must tlierel'ure, lie reflected, leave Buchdorf by Wednes- 
 day noon at tlie latest, which would give him but one day to 
 settle his quarrel with Baron von Arning. In great irritation 
 of mind he undressed and went to bed, more from the force 
 of habit than from any hope of sleeping. Contrary to his 
 expectations, however, he soon sank into a profound slumber, 
 and when he awoke tolerably late the next morning he felt 
 reficshed and invigorated, in body and mind. His hasty eon- 
 duct and its consequences no longer appeared in so dark a light 
 as that in which the baroness's words of the previous evening 
 had dejiieted them. In the flush of his youth and strength 
 he could not believe that the next day would have a bloody 
 ending either for himself or for another human being. He 
 threw open his windows, and, arranging his delicate writing- 
 materials, indited, without hesitation, a short note to Otto 
 von Arning, in which he desired him to meet him on the 
 following morning in a retired piece of meadow-land belong- 
 ing to the Wingen estate. He sealed the envelope with his 
 coronet and crest, and then rang the bell. 
 
 " Send a groom on horseback to Ermsdal as soon as possible 
 with this note," he said to the servant who answered his 
 summons. 
 
 Friedrich bowed and left the room to obey the order. But 
 as he was going into the court-yard he met the young baron- 
 ess, who had been on the watch for this moment since early 
 morning. 
 
 She motioned to him to b^ silent, and led the old man, who 
 had been sixty years in the service of the Arnings, up-staiis 
 to her own room. Here she locked the door, and asked hur- 
 riedly, " Ilerr von Lindau has just given you a letter to send 
 to my cousin Otto?" 
 
 "Yes, Friiulcin Beatrice." 
 
 Beatrice held out her hand. " Give it to me."
 
 A FA MILT FEUD. 161 
 
 " But " the old servant ventured to remonstrate. 
 
 "Give it to me," his mistress repeated, quickly, "I know 
 what I am doing, Fricdrich, and take upon myself the entire 
 responsibility. I will tell you what is the matter, I know 
 you love my cousin Otto?" 
 
 The prudent old man did not instantly reply. 
 
 " Well, you need not answer," the girl said, with a smile. 
 " I know perfectly well that you arc very fond of him, — much 
 fonder than of me, — and would not for the world have any 
 harm befall him. This letter is a challenge from Ilerr von Lin- 
 dau, who wishes to fight him." 
 
 " Oh, dreadful, dreadful !" Friedrich exchiimed in horror. 
 " Oh, I mistrusted the stranger baron from the first. It would 
 be a godless act." 
 
 " Godless indeed," Beatrice rejoined; " and unfortunately I 
 can think of no other means to prevent it except to withhold 
 the letter. I will not open it : so have no conscientious scru- 
 ples about the matter. And now I have another commission 
 for you, and this you must execute yourself Take the best 
 horse in the stables, and ride to Wingen with a note which I 
 shall write to Baron von Tannen." 
 
 " Then Herr von Tannen is concerned in the affair ?" the 
 old servant asked, turning Lindau's note irresolutely in his 
 hands. 
 
 " Of course," the young baroness replied, already busy 
 writing ; " he is one of the principal persons concerned." 
 
 " Here is the young gentleman's note, Frilulein Beatrice." 
 
 Tlie name of Tannen had prevailed. Friedrich was blindly 
 devoted to the Arnings and all pertaining to them ; he would 
 have gone through fire and water for Otto or Beatrice, and 
 also for Herr von Tannen, who had so loved Kurt. 
 
 Meanwhile, Beatrice wrote, — 
 
 " Dear Godpapa, — If you really love your godchild, 
 
 11 X-
 
 102 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 mount your horse as soon as you receive this, ride to Erms- 
 dal, and stay there until nightfall. Do not look upon my request 
 as a childish whim ; life or death depends upon your granting 
 it. When I see you I will explain all. 
 
 " Your loving godchild, B. 
 
 " P.S. Do not for the world let any one, and especially 
 Herr von Arning, know that I have sent you to Ermsdal." 
 
 A few minutes afterwards Friedrich was upon his way to 
 Wiugen, and Beatrice, with a sigh of relief, locked up Eniil's 
 ominous note in her writing-desk. She had at least gained 
 time. 
 
 When Lindau at the breakfast-table announced his depart- 
 ure as inevitably fixed for the following day at noon, both 
 Beatrice and her mother were affected rather pleasurably than 
 otherwise by the intelligence. 
 
 All day long the young baroness contrived to keep Erail 
 constantly beside her. It was late in the afternoon when, in 
 the absence of any reply from Ermsdal, his increasing anxiety 
 led him to ride furiously to Wingen to consult with Herr von 
 Tannen. But the old baron was of course not to be found 
 there ; he had not left any word upon riding out in the morn- 
 ing, save that he should not return until late in the evening. 
 Lindau was not sufficiently intimate with the family to tres- 
 pass so long upon their hospitality, and he returned in a 
 state of great irritation to Buchdorf, where the next morning 
 also brought him no communication from Ermsdal. 
 
 Now, although Lindau was excessively impatient at this 
 unforeseen delay, the steward was far more so. He saw his 
 carefully-laid scheme thus slowly coming to naught, but dared 
 not by word or even look betray the rage that was consuming 
 him. 
 
 At last the stately femily coach stood waiting, and Lindau 
 could delay no longer, for fear of missing the train. After
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 1G3 
 
 he was seated in tlie vehicle, and before the door could be 
 closed, Beatrice leaned forward to him and whispered, " I owe 
 you an explanation, Herr von Lindau. You need not wonder 
 that your note to my cousin received no reply, for it never 
 reached its destination. Here it is," she added, taking it 
 from her pocket and holding it out towards him. 
 
 Lindau would have burst out with some impatient exclama- 
 tion, but Beatrice imposed silence by a haughty wave of her 
 hand, and went on hurriedly, — " If I have offended you I ask 
 your forgiveness. But tell me yourself, was there any other 
 choice left me? In a moment of anger you would recklessly 
 have fanned to a flame again the old strife in our family, and 
 when you were told that our future peace was at stake, and of 
 what bitter suffering our poor cousin had undergone in the 
 past, you mercilessly refused to take a single step towards 
 B. reconciliation. But I, Herr von Lindau, I love my — my 
 family ! Can you wonder that I used every weapon at my 
 command to parry your assaults upon the harmony that seemed 
 once more about to reign among us ? Here come mamma and 
 Herr Warne ; not a syllable of all this, Herr von Lindau ! 
 And let us part friends. I give you my word that I will vin- 
 dicate your honour to my cousin as zealously as I have defended 
 his to you. He shall read your letter." 
 
 Here Frau von Arning approached the open door of the 
 carriage with a few of those graceful conventional phrases 
 which were always ready on her lips. What could the young 
 man do but quietly resign himself to his fate, and respond to 
 his hostess's kind words of farewell as gracefully as was possible 
 to his wounded pride ? 
 
 The door was closed, and the coachman whipped up his 
 horses ; one more wave from a white kerchief, and a turn in 
 the avenue snatched from Lindau's gaze the giil who of all 
 the goddesses at whose altars he liad sacrificed had made the 
 deepest impression upon his susceptible heart.
 
 1G4 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Days and weeks passed, and the autumn had fahly set in, 
 Theresa seemed thoughtful and depressed. Indeed, the rain 
 beating against the window-panes, the wind howling across the 
 moorland, and the yellowish-gray autumn light that filled halls 
 and apartments in the old house were quite enough to impress 
 with melancholy one who, like the baroness, found the summer 
 skies of the North too colourless, and its July sun too cold. 
 Besides, every hour brought nearer the eleventh of November, 
 Beatrice's eighteenth birthday. This day had hitherto been 
 the gayest of the year, but the opening of the old baron's 
 mysterious second will cast a dark shade over the coming 
 festival. 
 
 In many old families there exist certain rights and arrange- 
 ments sanctioned partly by the primitive laws of the province 
 and partly by tradition. Thus it was not so much the fear of 
 pecuniary loss as a dim foreboding that her husband's last will 
 might accord to Otto von Arning an undue power over Bea- 
 trice which filled the baroness with indescribable anxiety and 
 like some ghostly vision haunted her couch each night, driving 
 sleep from her weary eyes. Neither she nor Beatrice had 
 seen Otto since the Tanuen festivity, and in proportion as his 
 demeanour on that occasion faded in Theresa's memory her 
 confidence in his magnanimity decreased. It was touching to 
 see the efibrts that the poor woman made to conceal from 
 her child the anguish of her mind; but no one except Warne 
 perceived these efforts, and nothing could touch him, especially 
 since at present he was himself anticipating the eleventh of 
 November as anxiously as was his mistress. Did not his whole 
 future depend upon the provisions of that second will?
 
 A FAMILY FEUD 165 
 
 At last the important day arrived, dull and autumnal, as 
 suited the gloomy temper of Theresa's soul. Blasts of wind 
 howled about the corners and in the long corridors of the old 
 house, the weathercocks upon the roof creaked and whistled, 
 now and then an unfastened shutter flapped noisily, and if by 
 chance one of the heavy oaken doors was left open the strong 
 draught slammed it to with a crash. In addition there was 
 the monotonous drip from the roof of rain, which now and 
 then fell in showers, and the thousand and one strange, inex- 
 plicable noises always to be heard in old houses, particularly in 
 the autumn. Theresa could not remember having ever before 
 celebrated her child's birthday in such gloomy weather ; in her 
 depi'essed state of mind it seemed to her an evil omen, and 
 when after breakfast she led Beatrice to the table loaded as 
 on every previous year with costly birthday-gifts, she could no 
 longer contain herself, but threw her arms around the aston- 
 ished girl and burst into tears. She soon recovered her self- 
 control, however ; there was still so much to be attended to. 
 Baron von Tannen, as the dearest friend of the deceased, was 
 to be present on this solemn occasion, and the aged notary, 
 King, who had faithfully kept the will in his possession all 
 these years, a service for which Theresa was not very grate- 
 ful ; and, worse than all, Otto was obliged to appear. 
 
 This " worse," however, existed only in the mind of Fran 
 von Arning. Beatrice, it is true, had out of respect to her 
 mother put on a black gown, but in her lovely face there was 
 not the least sign of mourning, and least of all could the pros- 
 pect of seeing Otto once more have depressed her. All the 
 morning she was flying up and down stairs, from room to room, 
 arranging everything for the reception of the guests, and it was 
 fortunate that she had taste and judgment sufllicient for her 
 task, for Frau von Arning could be but of little use to-day. 
 She sat in a state of dull despair at one of the drawing-room 
 windows, torturing her poor brain with fruitless efforts to guess
 
 166 A FA MIL}' FEUD. 
 
 at the contents of the will " If the next few hours were but 
 over!" she sighed to herself. "Certainty is the only thing 
 that can give me repose." She even experienced a kind of 
 feeling of repulsion for the husband who could so torment her 
 long years after his death. 
 
 Beatrice liad exchanged the small landscape above the 
 lounge for Otto's portrait. " He really must not find every- 
 thing here changed," she remarked by way of explanation to 
 her mother, who however made no objection to her daughter's 
 proceedings. 
 
 " Well, to-day your dear 'young master' is coming," Beatrice 
 called out to old Friedrich, as she passed him in the hall. " Do 
 not try to put on such a long face. I know how you adore him. 
 Look, have I not put him in his old place ? He used to sit here 
 at breakfast, I think. I seem to remember it." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; quite right, FrLluleia Beatrice." The old ser- 
 vant looked around at the tasteful decoration of the apart- 
 ment, and noticed Otto's portrait through the door of the next 
 loom. " But," he continued, hesitating, " but the Frauleia 
 will remember the letter " 
 
 " Oh, yes, it shall be duly delivered," Beatrice interrupted 
 him, with a gay burst of laughter, " depend upon it, although 
 its contents may not, perhaps, greatly delight your idol. Hark I 
 there comes a carriage, — it is he !" 
 
 The last words sounded almost like a shout of joy, and the 
 young girl hastened to be the fii'st to welcome the Freiherr to 
 the home to which he had been so long a stranger. Frau von 
 Arning had also heard the baron arrive, but as at the same 
 moment Beatrice's light footfall in the hall struck her ear, she 
 sank back in her chair with a sense of relief. 
 
 " The child will know best what to say to this man," she 
 thought. 
 
 Nevertheless, the greetings exchanged in the hall were not 
 very lively. Beatrice could not possibly express what she felt
 
 A FA MIL i" FEUD. 167 
 
 at this moment, and mere words of course would not come, 
 to her lips, while Otto was mute with emotion. 
 
 Beatrice led the way through a small antechamber. " Come 
 and take some refreshment, Herr von Arning," she said; " you 
 must need it after your long drive. Mamma and the rest will 
 soon join us." 
 
 With a mute inclination Otto followed his charming guide. 
 They passed through several rooms, in which he had the op- 
 portunity of leisurely observing the changes made by the mis- 
 tress of the mansion. In one room, however, he paused with 
 an exclamation of surprise ; from the opposite wall there looked 
 down upon him the life-size figure of his cousin, of the man 
 who had been both father and brother to him, with the same 
 cordial, kindly smile which he so well remembered in his child- 
 ish days. The picture had been painted from a miniature after 
 the baron's death, and hence Otto had never seen it before. 
 
 " Kurt !" he whispered, involuntarily, with a gentle sigh as 
 he stood still before the portrait. " Yes, it is his dear, kind face, 
 line for line." 
 
 And Beatrice thought she could detect the gleam of tears 
 in his eyes. Her own brimmed over in part from shame, for 
 she could not conceal from herself that her thoughts to-day 
 had been far more occupied with the living cousin than with 
 the dead father. As if to retrieve her fault, she said, " My 
 dear, kind father I Indeed you do not know how he loved 
 you, or you never could have been angry with him so long. 
 Often, when I was alone with him, he would stand me upon 
 the arm of the lounge to show me your picture and tell mo 
 how good and clever you were. I was very curious to know 
 you," she added, with a little smile, which the teai'S glistening 
 upon her lashes made more lovely still. 
 
 Otto turned from the picture to the charming vision at his 
 side. " I hope," he said, with more earnestness than Beatrice 
 had looked for from his com]»osed bearing, " that n)y poor
 
 168 A FAMILY FEUD 
 
 Kurt's words were not quite fruitless to lessen at least the dis- 
 like of me which the baroness so diligently impressed upon 
 your childish mind." 
 
 Beatrice looked down embarrassed for a moment, and then, 
 Gnding no fitting reply to his words, silently went on towards 
 the dining-room, where she turned to Otto and entered upon a 
 widely different topic. 
 
 " I have a sin against you to confess for which I have no 
 other excuse to offer save the miserable one that the end jus- 
 tifies the means." 
 
 Otto smiled. " Well," he asked, " of what terrible crime 
 does your heart accuse you, since you seem to have selected 
 me for your father confessor apparently that you may be sure 
 of instant absolution ?" 
 
 The young baroness gave him one hasty but significant 
 glance. " I have no reason to suppose you so indulgent a 
 judge," she murmured. 
 
 " For you, Beatrice " The words came involuntarily 
 
 to his lips; he paused. "Tell me, my child, what is it?" 
 Something in his air, as he spoke, reminded Beatrice of the 
 time when she used to hang upon Cousin Otto's arm unre- 
 servedly, or crouch silently for hours by his writing-table, 
 except that his voice had a more melodious tone in it at this 
 moment than she could ever remember during her childhood ; 
 and so she took heart, and with trembling fingers drew the 
 intercepted missive from her pocket. It was very provoking ; 
 she had felt so strong when justifying her act to Lindau, she 
 had fairly seemed to herself to be playing a virtuous part, and 
 now all her self-confidence had departed, and she felt actually 
 like a convicted criminal. 
 
 " This letter," she began, stammering ; " this letter, Herr 
 von Arning, is addressed to you, and I — I intercepted it." 
 
 " To me?" Otto asked, in surprise, stretching out his hand 
 for the note ; but Beatrice still withheld it.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 169 
 
 " No, no," she cried ; " I persist in my wrong-doing. You 
 cannot have the note until I have told you of its contents, 
 and then, if you really gi-ant me absolution, you will throw it 
 into the fire. It is from Herr von Lindau. You remember 
 the dinner at my godfather's, and that Herr von Lindau chal- 
 lenged you ?" 
 
 " Did he tell you that ?" Otto interrupted her in amazement. 
 " A most extraordinary proceeding ! When he called me away 
 from you he was in so bewildered a state of mind that I did 
 not believe he would remember the next day a word of what 
 he was saying. He did recollect our conversation, then?" 
 
 "Yes, unfortunately, he did," sighed Beatrice; "and al- 
 though he perceived that he had behaved in an excessively 
 silly and unauthorized manner, he could not make up his 
 mind to apologize. Nothing that either mamma or I could 
 say had any effect, and when nothing else was left for me, I 
 kept watch beneath his window, and waylaid the servant to 
 whom he entrusted a note to you. I told Herr von Lindau 
 all about it," she went on, eagerly; "not, to be sure, until just 
 as he was .leaving the house to catch the train, and I promised 
 him to let you have the note. Here it is ; but when you meet 
 our hot-headed friend again, be merciful." 
 
 Otto bowed his head in assent, and broke the seal. The 
 young baroness trembled as she saw his features resume their 
 wonted sternness as he read. 
 
 " You are angr}^ with me for keeping that stupid piece of 
 paper from you," she said, with the air of a spoiled child 
 dreading rebuke. " But what else could I do ? Could I let 
 you risk your life, all because of a foolish misunderstanding? I 
 thought our family had already caused you enough unmerited 
 pain, and " 
 
 She paused, with a bright blush. What had she said to 
 banish all sternness from Otto's face, and call up the sudden 
 gleam of joy that sliot fiuni his dark eyes? 
 H 15
 
 170 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 " Foes no longer, then," he said, with emotion. " Thanks, 
 Beatrice, tliauks." As he spoke he took her hand and pressed 
 it to his Hps, saying far more by tone and gesture than the 
 words themselves expressed. 
 
 Beatrice was by no means pleased that her mother, with the 
 other gentlemen, entered at this moment. 
 
 Otto turned to greet Theresa, to whom the imminence of 
 the dreaded moment had restored a share of courage to meet 
 it. Her words were measured and kindly, but to Otto's car 
 not half so eloquent as the shy, almost mute welcome he had 
 received from the daughter. 
 
 The guests seated themselves at the table, but ate little and 
 talked still less, and they very shortly betook themselves to 
 the library, where the solemn ceremony of the opening of the 
 will was to take place. 
 
 Notary King, standing by the large library table, first care- 
 fully wiped his spectacles, then cleared his throat, and pro- 
 ducing the important document, handed it to all present, that 
 each might be convinced of the genuineness of the signature 
 and seal before he began, in a loud, clear voice, to read the 
 contents, which ran as follows : 
 
 " It is said that the near approach of death lifts many a 
 veil from mortal eyes, and I have in my own case proved the 
 truth of this saying. With a mind freed from earthly preju- 
 dice, I have pondered upon my past life, and in my sorrow at 
 its sad mistakes I would leave you, my dear ones, as my last 
 bequest, not gold or lands, but the sacred injunction, ' Love 
 one another.' 
 
 '" I have been richly blest in life, since in my wife and the 
 boy of my adoption, my young cou!<in, two noble natures were 
 confided to my keeping. But, unfortunately, both were hasty 
 and proud ; neither would stoop to conciliate, ijeither would 
 make allowance for the other's weaknesses, and I was forced
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 171 
 
 sorrowfully to admit to myself that my own character was 
 not of sufficient force to harmonize these two antagonistic 
 natures. 
 
 " I would not reproach you, I do not reproach you for the 
 sad years I have spent. I myself made my life what it has 
 been, when, in a moment of despair and weakness, I com- 
 mitted a great sin against the boy whom I had solemnly 
 promised a dying flither to protect. All that I could do to 
 proclaim to the world my entire faith in my cousin's honour I 
 have done. The will in which I named him the guardian of 
 my child will have told you this ; and it may be that when you 
 listen to these my last earthly wishes, all rancour and hatred 
 may have long passed away from your hearts. But should it 
 be otherwise, I pray you do not turn deaf ears to my entreaty, 
 and God soften your stubborn hearts. By the love which I 
 bear you both, by the grief which the strife between you has 
 caused me, and which has shortened my earthly days, I adjure 
 you, lay aside all anger. Extend each to each the hand of 
 forgiveness, and let peace and confidence, not hatred and sus- 
 picion, henceforth reign between you. 
 
 " It is not without a reason that I have appointed the 
 eleventh of November, my daughter's eighteenth birthday, 
 for the opening of this document. If you, my dearest Otto, 
 are still unmarried, if there yet exists in your heart a sin- 
 gle trace of the forbearing tenderness you once displayed 
 towards the child Beatrice, if in her heart there still glows 
 a spark of her childish affection for you, take her for your 
 own, and let her be the peacemaker between her mother and 
 yourself. 
 
 " It is not for the sake of earthly gain that I desire this 
 alliance, which our ancestors would doubtless have arranged 
 •with the view of uniting the family estates ; no, I venture to 
 plead for it in the name of peace, good will, and fiimily union. 
 Yet, as I would not command, neither would I unduly in-
 
 172 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 fluence you by my words. One thing only would I insist 
 upon : learn to know each other 1 Do this, and I am sure 
 you will be firm friends for all time, even although the 
 close alliance which I desire never should take place between 
 you, 
 
 '• Should your union ensue, the question of property will be 
 at rest forever. But should my wish upon this point, like so 
 many other wishes dear to my heart, never be fulfilled, I desire 
 that my three estates of Buchdorf, Grasort, and Harsbye be 
 divided by those competent to do so into two equal portions ; 
 the one to be given to my wife and daughter, the other to my 
 cousin Otto, to whom I thus fulfil the promise given to my 
 dearest friend and relative, his father. 
 
 " I hope and believe that all parties concerned will freely 
 accede to this disposal of my property, which is dictated not 
 only by justice but by parental affection. Wealth, my dearest 
 daughter, is as often a curse as a blessing. I can attest this 
 from bitter experience. A wealthy heiress is but too often 
 the prey of a needy adventurer. 
 
 " In any case, my dear Otto, I depend upon you to aid 
 my wife in watching over my child's happiness, and to see to 
 it that her choice in life is one that a loving father would 
 approve. 
 
 " And, now that my last words to you are spoken, I bid 
 you farewell, my dear ones, thanking you from my very soul 
 for the kindness and forbearance you have always shown me. 
 God reward your fidelity, and have mercy upon my soul. 
 " Kurt Heinrich, Freiherr von Arning." 
 
 The notary ceased, and for the moment all present were 
 deeply touched, nay, humiliated, by the noble, loving spirit 
 breathing from the words just read. Good old Tannen hid his 
 face in a huge red silk pocket-handkerchief and cried like a 
 child J and even Theresa, although the provisions of the will
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 173 
 
 more than fulfilled lier worst expectations, could not for the 
 time cherish any thoughts save those of reverent affection 
 for her dead husband. She had grown very pale, and sat 
 with her hands tightly clasped in her lap, looking with eyes 
 full of an expectant anxiety from one to another of her 
 guests. 
 
 There was a pause, broken only by the ticking of the tall 
 clock in the corner. No one ventured for a while to speak, a 
 spell lay upon every heart, and as it was gradually dissolved, 
 and the world of reality again made itself felt, the looks of all 
 instinctively turned towards Otto von Arning, who stood with 
 one elbow leaning upon the chimney-piece, his eyes bent on 
 the ground, mute, lost in reflection. He might have been sup- 
 posed perfectly calm, for the slight tremor of the upper lip 
 gave no hint of the intensity of the struggle that was agitating 
 him. At last he looked up. The silent inquiry upon the 
 faces of the company required a decisive reply from him with 
 whom solely the power of decision in this case rested. He 
 knew this, but he wavered, and his glance sought the only one 
 in the room who had not dared to look towards him, Beatrice. 
 
 She felt that the next moments would decide the destiny of 
 her future life, and an eternity seemed to pass before Otto's 
 full, deep voice broke the silence. 
 
 " I pray you pardon me," he said, " for my delay in reply- 
 ing ; but, apart from the profound impression which Kurt's 
 last wishes must of necessity produce, his will contains so 
 much matter for reflection that I may well need to pause 
 before giving a decided answer to its requests. Concerning 
 the division of the estates, I acknowledge with gratitude my 
 cousin's loving provision for the boy of his adoption ; but I 
 must at the same time emphatically decline once for all to 
 accept my share of the bequest. It is not my intention to 
 deprive Frilulein von Arning of any portion of her paternal 
 inheritance, more especially as I already possess wealth more 
 
 15*
 
 174 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 than sufficient for the wants of my retired existence. As for 
 the reconciliation with my relatives which Kurt so earnestly 
 desires, I cordially offer them my hand in token that his wish 
 is my own on this point. Indeed, I have so far anticipated 
 his wish as to admit to myself years ago that the principal 
 fault in the misunderstandings which have brought my life 
 Buch unhappiness was my own." 
 
 Theresa arose, walked to where the Freiherr stood, and laid 
 her hand in his, while in her troubled eyes there could jlainly 
 be seen the question now uttered by the notary. 
 
 " There is a third point touched upon in the will, Herr 
 Baron," he said ; " indeed, it appears to have been considered 
 as the most important by the deceased : your uuioa with 
 Fraulein Beatrice " 
 
 " You must perceive that I am powerless to decide chere 
 alone and of myself," Otto hastily interrupted him, aui his 
 voice quivered slightly. " But here also my cousin's wish 
 coincides with my own : it depends solely upon Fraulein von 
 Arning whether this desire is fulfilled." He approached the 
 young girl. " Can you trust me, Beatrice?" 
 
 She looked up quickly ; their glances met ; his words sounded 
 business-like, even cold, but there was nothing of these qualities 
 in the eyes gazing with passionate entreaty into her own. With 
 a deep blush the girl put her hand into the one held out to her, 
 and uttered a low but distinct " yes." 
 
 She felt Otto's hand tremble, and the clasp with which he 
 enclosed her delicate fingers in his own broad palm told her 
 better than all words could have done that the calumniated 
 misanthrope of Ermsdal was anything but indiS"erent to her 
 reply. 
 
 The steward, who, by Frau von Arning's desire, was pres- 
 ent, and who had listened hitherto in breathless eagerness, 
 could not at this point suppress a slight exclamation ; but for- 
 tunately for him this outbreak was unheard in the positive
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 175 
 
 sliriek with which Theresa, arousing herself from what had 
 seemed lethargy, hurried to her child's side. 
 
 " Beatrice, my child, do you know what you are doing ? 
 Your filial affection, your respect for your father's wishes, we 
 must all admire, but you are carrying it much too far ; be- 
 yond the point where repentance is possible. Herrvon Arning," 
 she interrupted herself, turning to Otto, " we are — we will be 
 friends ; I know that my husband has made the final decision 
 in this matter dependent solely upon yourself and my child. 
 I swear to you I will not force her inclinations, but I beseech 
 you let me see her alone for a few moments, let me lay before 
 her the consequences of the step she would thus take ; I 
 demand this of you as my sacred right." 
 
 With a suppressed sigh. Otto relinquished the hand that lay 
 within his own, and retired to his former place beside the 
 chimney-piece. 
 
 " Come, Beatrice," her mother continued, " the sooner this 
 matter is settled the better for us all." 
 
 She put her arm about the girl's waist and led her into an 
 adjoining apartment. Upon the threshold Beatrice turned, 
 and meeting Otto's eyes, which were following her with 
 yearning melancholy, she could not resist giving him a little 
 reassuring smile. 
 
 The mother and daughter were absent nearly half an hour, 
 during which time silence — but a silence that spoke — reigned 
 in the room they had left. Then the door opened, and 
 Theresa, pale and broken, led Beatrice up to the Freiherr and 
 ])laced her hand once more in his. " Take my child, then, 
 since it must be so,'' she said, in trembling tones, " and God 
 grant you may make her happy !" She could say no more ; 
 the tears welled from her eyes. Was this a betrothal ? It 
 seemed to her more like devoting her darling to the grave. 
 
 The Freiherr was greatly moved by her distress. " Beatrice's 
 happiness shall be the sole care of my future existence," ho
 
 176 A FA MIL y FEUD. 
 
 said, kissing the baroness's hand, while the others hastened to 
 present their congratulations. 
 
 Meanwhile, the sun had broken through the shrouding 
 clouds. Every one felt inclined for the fresh air after the 
 agitating experience of the last few hours, and the Buchdorf 
 guests were soon wandering in couples through the leafless 
 alleys of the park. Beatrice and Otto loitered along, arm-in- 
 arm, gazing at the drifting clouds, at the bright sunshine 
 shimmering in the raindrops on the grass, in " that new world 
 which is the old," mute for the most part, since neither could 
 utter the thoughts that rose within. 
 
 The steward watched them from a distance with rage in his 
 heart. Of what use had been the labour of years, the crime 
 with which he had stained his soul, since Otto had thus easily 
 borne ofi" the prize to which he had boldly lifted his eyes ? 
 He stood, an image of baffled rage, when a hand was laid upon 
 Lis arm, and Brown Elsie's mocking face looked into his own. 
 
 " What would you give, Herr Steward, to separate the 
 happy pair?" she said, with a laugh. 
 
 " My hope of heaven I" Warne exclaimed, forgetting all 
 self-control, " if " 
 
 " If it had not long since been sold to the devil," Elsbeth 
 drily completed the sentence. " Your offer does not tempt 
 me, but those two shall never be one, I swear by the heaven 
 you have lost !" 
 
 And she vanished as quickly as she had appeared. 
 
 Her lifelong envy and hatred of Beatrice had lately been 
 stimulated afresh. She had gone to the Kirmess at Ermsdal in 
 the finery purchased with the money extorted from her grand- 
 mother, but the peasant girls had held themselves aloof from 
 her, and none of the young fellows had condescended to ask 
 her to dance, while the lord of the estate, the only person for 
 whose notice she really cared, had negligently passed her by 
 as if he really did not see her. Her vanity was excessively
 
 A FA MIL r FEUD. 177 
 
 wounded, and her passionate nature was stirred to anger and 
 revenge. For he must have seen her, she argued to herself. 
 Her lithe, slender figure in its fantastic costume, with masses 
 of raven hair flowing free (.)ver her shoulders, and wild defiance 
 in the large black eyes, formed too striking a contrast with the 
 blue-eyed, flaxen-haired German girls to be overlooked. 
 
 Her sudden appearance before Warne had the good eflfect 
 of impressing him with the necessity of self-control. He had 
 just succeeded in restoring its wonted calm to his counte- 
 nance when the baroness came slowly along the avenue towards 
 the house. The gentlemen had taken their leave, and she 
 was returning to her own apartment to seek there the re- 
 pose she so much needed after the unnatural excitement of 
 the morning. 
 
 When she thus unexpectedly encountered the man who had 
 been for so many years her confidential adviser and man of 
 business, she so far forgot her customary reserve as to say, 
 " We have had a strange day, Herr Warne. One could 
 hardly have foretold that Baron Otto would decline so wealthy 
 a bequest and sue instead for my daughter's hand." 
 
 The steward was not quite master of himself, or he would 
 have put a guard upon his lips, but his anger was at present 
 so much in the ascendant that he said, with ill-concealed 
 malice, " I never thought Herr von Aruing a fool. Why 
 should he rest content with half, when the whole could be had 
 for the asking ?" 
 
 The baroness, startled by both words and manner, gave him 
 a long, searching look ; much suddenly occurred to her, — • 
 among other things, that Warne had been for years Otto's 
 enemy, and that this man's suggestions and testimony had 
 long ago been the cause of Otto's arrest. " It shall not be 
 my fault," she thought, " if our reconciliation is not a lasting 
 one ;" but aloud she only said, — 
 
 " I wish to speak with you on business, Herr Warna and 
 
 H*
 
 178 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 this is scarcely a suitable place for the purpose. Pray follow 
 me into the house." She stepped past him, and the steward, 
 already repenting his hasty words, did his best upon the way 
 to Theresa's boudoir to remove any unpleasant impression 
 they might have produced. But the baroness was not lightly to 
 be turned aside from her purpose. As soon as the door closed 
 b jhind them she gave it words ; the kind friend vanished, and 
 in her stead a just but resolute mistress addressed the aston- 
 ished steward. 
 
 " We have had no secrets from you, Herr Warne, and there- 
 fore you have had entire knowledge of the relations existing 
 between Baron von Arning and our family. To-day you have 
 also had an opportunity, as an eye-witness, of convincing your- 
 Belf of the entire and complete change which these relations 
 have undergone. I will not allude to the past, still less speak 
 of my personal sensations. The Freiherr is to be my son-in-law ; 
 consequently, I owe him all consideration. But you, Herr 
 Warne, are his enemy, and however great his fault or your — 
 error may have been, you must admit that Buchdorf cannot be 
 your home when it is his." 
 
 " That is to say, you remove me, madame," the steward 
 agitatedly interrupted her; "remove me, a faithful, well-tried 
 servant, for the sake of a man whom you yourself — enough, 
 he is your future son-in-law." 
 
 This tone from Warne was something quite new, and The- 
 resa was not inclined to bear it. 
 
 " You do not allow me to conclude, Herr Warne," she 
 rejoined, frigidly. "Here is no question of removal; I 
 simply propose to you to travel for a year, — at my expense, 
 of course, for our contract is not yet at an end. I cannot 
 see anything offensive in this proposal ; on the contrary, 
 I hoped in making it to anticipate your wishes, since to a 
 man of any delicacy of feeling a life beneath the same roof 
 with an enemy would be most painful. I shall be sorry if I
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 179 
 
 have erred in my estimate of you. How soon can you close 
 your accounts ?" 
 
 " In two days, madame," was the scarcely audible reply. 
 Warne's voice was choked with rage. 
 
 " I will thank you to do so, then," Theresa said, and with a 
 haughty bend of her head the steward was dismissed. 
 
 Tlie case with which she thus separated from a man who 
 had been an inmate of her household for so many years, bore 
 sufficient testimony to the fact that the steward, in spite of 
 his officious servility and apparent integrity, had failed in 
 winning the genuine esteem of his mistress. Theresa had 
 defended him so long and so often against the attacks of her 
 friends that she had at last quite believed that she liked him ; 
 but when the time came to part from him she was astonished 
 to find how easy it was to do so. 
 
 It is night, and again the lonely lamp burns bright upon 
 Heinrich Warne's office-table. With compressed lips and a 
 gloomy brow he sits behind the piles of papers collected there. 
 Although the autumn night is wonderfully mild, a bright fire 
 is burning on the hearth and he tends it carefully ; opposite 
 him hangs the cuckoo-clock, but its busy pendulum has ceased, 
 as has the steward's ill-gotten gain in the Von Arning family. 
 On tables and chairs, and on the floor, stand two rows of books. 
 In binding, lettering, and even in the more or less worn gilding 
 of the backs, these two rows are exactly similar ; not so their 
 contents. For years Herr Warne has kept a double set of 
 books, and he is now busy making last entries before consign- 
 ing to the flames the set which has always been ready for the 
 baroness's inspection. She has hardly ever even glanced at 
 them ; she will never know when another set is substituted 
 for them showing the actual condition of her aff"airs, while 
 the one hitherto shown her contains only dazzling falsehoods. 
 For years the steward has been preparing for this moment ; for
 
 180 A FA MIL V FEUD. 
 
 years he has reckoned every chance. His departure from 
 Buchdorf finds him ready, although he has in the last few 
 months allowed himself to dream of the fulfilment of fairer 
 hopes. 
 
 When the first gray gleam of morning stole through the 
 window-curtains his weary task was ended. In the drawers 
 of the table bills and receipts were carefully tied up in bundles, 
 and upon the table top were ranged the genuinely kept books, 
 the false ones having been consumed to the last scrap, and 
 their ashes collected in a small box. Heinrich Warne sur- 
 veyed his work with a smile. There was not to be seen, he 
 thought, a grain of dust that could betray him or cast the 
 faintest suspicion upon his honesty. For all that might be 
 discovered in those books the baroness alone was to blame. 
 
 He opened the window and looked out; as he did so he 
 fancied he saw a shadow glide around the corner of the house. 
 But in vain did he strain every sense. There was no one 
 to be either seen or heard. The park lay silent and frosty in 
 the glimmering dawn, and the hard soil baneath his window 
 showed no trace of footsteps. The steward ascribed the fan- 
 cied shadow to the state of his nerves excited by his sleepless 
 night, and went easy and confident to order the carriage for his 
 departure. 
 
 As he drove down the avenue wrapped in his warm travel- 
 ling cloak, a cigar between his lips, he saw the little lake gleam- 
 ing through the leafless trees. He leaned forward to look at 
 it with a half-triumphant smile. " Farewell, lovely lake," he 
 thought, " but not for long. I may soon return as your lord 
 and master." 
 
 In fact he had grounds for such blissful visions ; he knew 
 that the baroness was deeply involved, while he had for years 
 been accumulating in an English banking-house a sum now 
 more than sufliicient to extricate the family from embarrass- 
 ment. He had meant to make Beatrice's hand the price for
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 181 
 
 sucli relief, and he had dared to hope that under the pressure of 
 circumstances her mother would not deny his suit. Now that 
 such hopes had been proved vain, he still believed that Buch- 
 dorf might yet be his. When, as was sure sooner or later to 
 be the case, it fell beneath the auctioneer's hammer he would 
 simply purchase it. The only thing that made him doubtful 
 as to the success of this deep-laid scheme was his uncertainty 
 as to Otto's conduct when his relative's ruin was made known 
 to him ; but here the steward did not anticipate much difficulty, 
 since he took Aunt Bernhardine's view of the matter, and be- 
 lieved that Buchdorf was the real object of Otto's desires. If 
 it should be lost to him he would surely find some means to 
 break the tie that bound him to a comparatively penniless girl, 
 Warne concluded, and he did not fear him as a rival in the pur- 
 chase of Buchdorf. Baron von Arning had just made Repach 
 his own, and he could hardly be master of a sum sufficient 
 for the acquisition of another large estate. 
 
 The carriage stopped at the station. Warne procured a 
 ticket for Hamburg, and the coachman saw him borne off in 
 the train almost before his horses' heads were turned towards 
 home. 
 
 But the steward did not go to Hamburg ; he left the rail- 
 way-carriage at the next little station, took his portmanteau 
 and walked through the mingled rain and snow that poured 
 without cessation from the leaden skies across the fields to the 
 Repach forest. He was so fortunate as to reach the man- 
 sion belonging to the estate without encountering a human 
 being. The building was empty. Otto had no use for it, and 
 its former possessor had visited it only once during the hunt- 
 ing-season. Neither had taken any pains to obliterate the 
 traces of decay which wind and weather with all-conquering 
 time had left in the brick walls of the old-fashioned edifice. 
 
 The place looked melancholy and deserted. Grass was grow- 
 ing between the paving-stones of the court-yard. The gutter- 
 
 16
 
 182 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 pipes on the roof had long ceased to do their duty ; they hung 
 down over the gable ends, or lay rusting beside the broken 
 tiles. Some of the panes in the windows were gone, admitting 
 sun and air to the rooms with their stiff, antique furniture. 
 Warne rattled and shook one of the window-shutters on the 
 ground-floor, and when the old bolt gave way he wrapped his 
 handkerchief around his hand, dashed in one of the panes, 
 and opened the window. It was the work of a minute ; the 
 next, window and shutter were closed after him, and he was 
 stretched upon the faded sofa, trying to recover the sleep he 
 had lost on the previous night. 
 
 On the evening of this day, as old Stina was sitting by the 
 dim light of her tallow candle, making her spinning-wheel 
 hum in rivalry of the black cat's purring, her friend Warne 
 suddenly stood before her, as if sprung from the earth. la 
 her first surprise the old woman would have called for help, 
 but the steward, with a half smile, motioned her to be silent. 
 
 " Do not be frightened," he said ; " it is I, Heinrich Warne, 
 in the flesh. First give me something to eat, and I will tell 
 you more." 
 
 " I thought you were ofi" this morning. What brings you 
 here?" the crone asked, as she hobbled to the cupboard. 
 
 " Did you think I would leave the show before the play is 
 ended ?" Warne replied, seating himself upon the only chair 
 in the hut. 
 
 " Els said you had gone to Hamburg," the old woman mut- 
 tered, setting bread and ham before her guest, " because it is 
 near the sea." 
 
 " And why should I run away like a convicted school-boy?" 
 Warne coolly interrupted her, spreading his white handker- 
 chief upon his knees in default of a napkin. He was just as 
 carefully and elegantly dressed as was his wont at Buchdorf. 
 " No, I have taken up my abode in Repach, where I shall 
 remain. I know all that will happen at Buchdorf The
 
 A FA MIL r FEUD. 183 
 
 baroness has dismissed me, and I shall not rest until I have 
 seen her leave also." 
 
 Warne had no concealments from Mother Stina, from whom 
 he feared no treachery, since both he and she knew that he 
 could at any time devote her to the gallows. She had been 
 his bold and willing slave since the day when he had made a 
 certain mysterious discovery in her hut. Nevertheless, what 
 he had just said seemed seriously to disturb her. She stared 
 at him and repeated, " Dismissed you ? — then all is dis- 
 covered !" 
 
 Warne took a hungry bite of the piece of black bread in 
 his hand. " Not yet,'' he said. " That is our affair ; I am here 
 to tell you what we must do." 
 
 The old woman only wrung her hands ; her courage was 
 evidently leaving her with her physical strength. 
 
 "We are alone?" Warne continued, looking keenly around 
 the dim room. " Your Elsbeth must know nothing of this." 
 
 The crone nodded, but her eye shyly glanced towards the 
 bed-curtains, which stirred slightly. 
 
 " Listen, then ; here are three letters ; you must go to M 
 
 to " 
 
 " No, no !" old Stina protested, " leave me out of the game, 
 Ilerr Warne. The proverb says, ' The pitcher that goes so 
 often to the well gets broken at last,' and you ought to thank 
 the devil that all is not yet discovered, and get out of the way 
 while there is time !" 
 
 " Nonsense, Mother Stina 1" the steward grumbled. "Since 
 when have you been such a coward ? How often must I tell 
 you that we cannot be found out ? But you never will under- 
 stand. Let this money speak to you more distinctly. It is 
 yours if you do my errand without more ado." 
 
 The crone snatched at the purse, weighed it in her hand, 
 and began to count its contents. It was strange to see fear 
 aiid avarice in her face striving for the mastery ; avarice con-
 
 184 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 quered at last. Mother Stina consented. A gratified expres- 
 sion flitted across the steward's features, but vanished instantly, 
 as with his usual cool composure he put the purse into his 
 pocket again, remarking significantly, " It is yours as soon as 
 my errand is accomplished. Here are the letters. You will 
 
 take a secret journey to M , and as secretly contrive to have 
 
 these three papers conveyed to the three usurers. Their con- 
 tents you may know. I simply inform each of these people 
 that Frau von Arning is negotiating loans with the others also ; 
 it •will be enough to set the blood-hounds on the track; they 
 will take care of the rest. Fortunately the loans have been 
 so contrived that they may be called in at any moment. But 
 go yourself. Mother Stina, for I would not trust your Elsbeth 
 across the road, and take good care, for your own sake, that 
 you are not recognized, for if anything should be discovered — 
 it is well to be prepared for the worst — I shall admit that I 
 negotiated the loans in the interest of the baroness through you, 
 but I shall deny all knowledge of these letters. This you do 
 upon your own responsibility. I tell you this, that you may 
 perfectly understand what you are about. And now, good- 
 night. I give you eight days in which to fulfil my commis- 
 sion." 
 
 With these words he took his hat and left the hut as noise- 
 lessly as he had come, while the strife in old Stina's soul be- 
 tween fear and avarice began after his departure to rage afresh. 
 
 In her youth she had chosen to pursue evil ways, and now 
 in her old age, when she would fain have had rest, evil ways 
 pursued her in turn. There was no help for it : the past is 
 but the seed of the future. 
 
 As Warne slipped through the thicket, firmly convinced that 
 no human being saw him, the clear note of the cuckoo sounded 
 from a clump of trees close by. He started in alarm, but 
 after one moment's reflection he found comfort rather than 
 annoyance in the detested cry, " since if Elsbeth is wandering
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 185 
 
 abroad in the forest, she can know nothing of my interview 
 with her grandmother," he said to himself, as he walked on 
 much relieved. 
 
 Nevertheless, it was no draught of air that had stirred the 
 blue check bed-curtains. 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 No one testified such satisfaction in the unexpected turn 
 that aifairs had taken as Aunt Bernhardine. That usually 
 cold and stern individual seemed quite beside herself upon 
 learning from Otto of his betrothal. 
 
 "Now Buchdorf will be your own 1" she exclaimed. " The 
 wish, the aim of my life is fulfilled. Buchdorf will be yours, 
 even if you must take that doll of a girl along with it." 
 
 Her expressions and views upon the subject were intensely 
 grating to Otto ; but instead of involving himself in useless 
 discussions, or giving utterance to vain remonstrance, he spent 
 his time when in the house at Ermsdal shut up in his own 
 apartment. 
 
 Baron Kurt's last will, and the betrothal which had grown 
 out of it, were soon matter of gossip in the surrounding coun- 
 try and the circles of the capital, where they were of course a 
 nine days' wonder. Buchdorf was daily visited by numbers 
 of congratulating acquaintances who came more from curiosity 
 perhaps than because their sympathy was genuine. In this 
 case, however, they left it without much satisfaction, for none 
 of the parties chiefly concerned alluded to the betrothid with 
 any degree of frankness, until at last even godpapa Tannen, 
 who had heard the will read, grew rather confused upon the 
 subject. 
 
 It certainly was an extraordinary engagement ! It seemed, 
 IG*
 
 186 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 indeed, to have been inaugurated not by the warm breath of 
 life and love, but by the icy hand of death. Beatrice, for ex- 
 ample, would stand for hours at her window, an opera-glass in 
 her hand, continually watching the road from Ermsdal and 
 the solitary horseman sure to appear there after a while. But 
 as soon as he whom she so anxiously awaited had reached a 
 certain point the opera-glass was laid aside, her dress subjected 
 to a careful scrutiny before the mirror, and when Arning at last 
 arrived he would find his betrothed busy with her embroidery 
 or a book, of the contents of which indeed she could not pos- 
 sibly have given any account ; but there she sat apparently 
 cool and indifferent, seeming not to have expected him at all. 
 
 She often stood dreaming at the same window on clear win- 
 ter nights, tracing out for herself a pathway to Ermsdal among 
 the shining worlds above her. She knew nothing of astron- 
 omy, hardly the titles of the various constellations ; but they 
 grew familiar to her eyes, she called them by names of her 
 own, and for her yearning fancy they bridged the distance be- 
 tween Buchdo.f and the home of her betrothed. He never 
 suspected this ; she shyly hid these reveries from all the world, 
 smiling herself at the childish dream which was, however, not 
 destined to be vain. 
 
 Otto daily came to Buchdorf, but a spirit of inexplicable 
 unrest soon drove him thence. If he chanced to find Beatrice 
 alone he would talk kindly and calmly with her as with a dear 
 child, upon subjects fitted, he thought, to interest her. If her 
 mother was present he addressed himself to her, while his 
 betrothed sat by mute and apparently indifferent. She had 
 gradually convinced herself that her father's request alone 
 could have influenced Arning to woo her, and this conviction 
 made her shy and awkward with him. Once she had proudly 
 boasted that she should never be ashamed to confess her affec- 
 tion, but nothing now would have induced her to allow her 
 betrothed to know how dear he was to her. And Otto lay
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 187 
 
 beneath the spell of the same delusion. He saw in Beatrice 
 the child whom he had loved nine years before. Obedience, 
 filial affection, had induced her to promise him her hand with- 
 out an idea of the solemn significance of the act : he would 
 wait patiently in hopes that true love might in time be born of 
 the half-unconscious preference for him which she had retained 
 from her childish days, and, fearful of startling her by an ex- 
 pression of his passionate devotion, he controlled himself to a 
 degree that certainly at times looked very like indifference. 
 
 Thus the lovers were playing a cruel game of hide-and-seek 
 with each other. Out of tender consideration each for each 
 they concealed their ardent affection, and it might be doubted 
 whether, if some lucky chance did not dissolve the spell, the 
 force of time and habit might not convert the semblance of 
 indifference into reality. 
 
 Frau von Arning, however, was entirely won over by her 
 future son-in-law ; her mistrust of him had so vanished that 
 the connection she had dreaded now seemed to her most suit- 
 able and desirable, and since whatever she did she always did 
 with all her might, and never neglected conventional forms, 
 she one day declared that since the infirmities of age confined 
 Friiulein von Tretten to Ermsdal she held it her duty to pay 
 her a visit. 
 
 No sooner said than done. On a cold day in December, 
 Theresa with her daughter drove to Ermsdal. Beatrice dressed 
 herself for this visit with the greatest care, and got into the 
 carriage in a state of calm content. But as it neared its goal 
 her heart began to beat loud and fast, and she scarcely heeded 
 her mother's expressions of wonder and admiration as they 
 drove over a well-kept road through what had formerly been 
 a waste. The red roofs of the low-lying but extensive houses 
 of the well-to-do peasant of North Germany were seen on all 
 sides, but no sign of any mansion befitting the lord of the soil. 
 The baroness opened the carriage window and asked the coach-
 
 188 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 man if Herr von Arning's dwelling was still far distant. In 
 answer the man pointed to a low building in no way to be dis- 
 tinguished from the peasants' houses, except that it lay quite 
 isolated from them. Beatrice felt her heart sink within her ; 
 all the surroundings here struck her, used as she had always 
 been to elegance and luxury, as gloomy and depressing. She 
 had, however, no time for such thoughts ; the horses flew over 
 the slightly frozen ground, and in less than a minute the car- 
 riage drew up before the narrow steps of the front door, where 
 Otto stood waiting to receive them. Beatrice had not an in- 
 stant to remark the absence of flower-beds, or the bald, cheer- 
 less exterior of the house ; before she knew how it happened 
 she found herself confronted with a tall, spare woman dressed 
 in black, who rose stiifly from her arm-chair at the entrance 
 of the visitors, and laid aside a large piece of terribly coarse 
 knitting. She recognized the dreaded Aunt Bernhardine, of 
 whom, among her childish memories, she retained anything 
 but a pleasant remembrance. For Otto's sake she wished to 
 please the old lady, and so, hastening to her, she kissed her 
 bony hand, but when she looked up and met the piercing 
 sunken eyes of the canoness fixed upon her, while the thin 
 lips parted to utter a formal greeting, she felt like exclaiming, 
 with Mary Stuart, "Oh God! from out those lineaments there 
 speaks no heart !" 
 
 Confused and troubled, she sat down in the wooden chair 
 offered her, and gazed in wonder at the meagre arrangement 
 of the apartment, while the baroness and the canoness, who met 
 for the first time since the marriage of the former, exchanged 
 the formalities suitable to the occasion. 
 
 Otto marked her glance. " Our reception-room hardly 
 meets your approval, Beatrice," he .^aid, in jest. " What do 
 you think of our Ermsdal hermitage, altogether?" 
 
 " It is very ugly," the young baroness gravely replied, look- 
 ing up at him with naive frankness.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 189 
 
 Otto could not but smile "I believe you are right," he 
 replied. " But we will build another, as beautiful as you de- 
 sire. You shall plan it all yourself, and we will come every 
 day and watch the progress of the work. Shall you like 
 that?" 
 
 The girl's face lit up with delight. 
 
 " That will be charming!" she cried. " If I am to arrange 
 and select, the house will be the finest in all the country 
 round ! I remember some of those Italian villas — of course 
 we could only imitate them in so far as would be comfortable 
 in our Northern winters. But the new house must be nearer 
 the forest than this, that we may have fine trees for the 
 park." 
 
 " Do you intend building again, Otto ?" the canoness frigidly 
 inquired. " I had heard nothing of it ! And in such hard 
 times as the present ! It is a pity that Frilulein von Arning 
 does not approve of your home ; but I must beg you to re- 
 member, my dear Frilulein, that Ermsdal was a desert when 
 my nephew first came here to live, and its rents are still far 
 from amounting to those of Buchdorf " 
 
 Beatrice blushed crimson. " Forgive me, I did not mean 
 to presume," the poor girl stammered ; " I think — nay, I am 
 sure, that I could be very happy in this house." 
 
 Ilcr mother was about to make a much less modest reply, 
 but Otto spoke before she could begin. 
 
 " This house has served our purpose. Aunt Bernhardine," 
 he said, with a frown ; " that is, it has sufficed for the retired 
 life we have led. It would not be at all suitable for a gay 
 young bride. Besides, I have managed my property alone for 
 so long, and I flatter myself with a fair degree of success, 
 that I think you may safely leave its management entirely to 
 me for the future." 
 
 An embarrassing silence followed these words. The canoness 
 did not reply, but took up her knitting again, with a few words
 
 190 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 of apology for doing so, and appeared absorbed in the click of 
 her needles. 
 
 The whole scene was utterly distasteful to Frau von Arning, 
 and to put an end to it she suddenly displayed an interest in 
 what was going on in the court-yard, and expressed a desire 
 to see it more closely. Otto of course accompanied her, 
 and Theresa expected that Beatrice would follow them, but 
 the poor child had set for herself the impossible task of win- 
 ning Fraulein von Tretten's approval, and remained with the 
 canoness. 
 
 Bernhardine said nothing, and Beatrice was in vain en- 
 deavouring to think of some subject of conversation, when the 
 canoness arose and took out of the cupboard in the corner a 
 huge bundle of woollen yarn which she made ready to wind. 
 Beatrice timidly offered to hold the skeins. 
 
 A keen glance accompanied the reply to her offer. " Oh. 
 indeed — have you no work, my dear?" 
 
 Beatrice stammered something about " a short visit," and 
 " forgetting." 
 
 '' Very well. Here is the yarn ; there, now, the other hand ; 
 a little tighter, if you please. You must excuse me for not 
 interrupting my work, but the mistress at Ermsdal has no 
 time to waste. I rise at four, and go instantly to the dairy — 
 A little tighter, my dear. Your present dress would hardly 
 be suitable for my duties ; not only because it would be too 
 extravagant, but because it would consume so much time in 
 putting on ; for, from the dairy I go to the kitchen-garden, 
 and then to the kitchen and cellar ; the afternoon is for spin- 
 ning and knitting. So the days pass. The best adornment of 
 the mistress of a household should be neatness and order in 
 her domain, and the money which her economy saves weekly. 
 I have had a lifetime of experience, and know that these 
 principles are the only ones worth having — But, my dear, you 
 are letting the yarn slip off your hands."
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 191 
 
 Beatrice's arm felt paralyzed, and tears filled her eyes. Was 
 this really the picture of her future life? Should she one day 
 stand in the desolate room thus, in spotless cap and coarse 
 woollen dress, her only joy the money accumulated by her 
 economy ? 
 
 She looked longingly towards the door. Where was her be- 
 trothed ? She felt absolutely desolate and lonely here. And, 
 as if her eyes had power to summon him, Otto made his 
 appearance at the moment. The spectacle that met his gaze 
 did not seem greatly to edify him. He frowned, and cast a 
 glance towards the canoness that made Beatrice tremble. She 
 had never seen him look thus before. 
 
 " What are you two doing here?" he asked, taking the yarn 
 from Beatrice's hands without more ado, and hanging it on 
 the back of a chair. *' Aunt Bernhardine, I think it is time 
 for some refreshment." 
 
 " It has been awaiting you for some moments," the canoness 
 replied, going towards the door. " If the ladies will step into 
 the next room" — And she led the way. 
 
 Otto drew Beatrice's arm within his own with a kind of 
 passionate eagerness. " What has she been doing to you, my 
 poor little girl ?" he asked, far more tenderly than was his 
 wont. " Do not deny it — I know your dear eyes too well not 
 to see that you can but just restrain your tears. Tell me — 
 what is it ?" 
 
 Beatrice tried to smile. "Nothing bad," she replied. 
 " Your aunt was only giving me a lesson in my duties as 
 mistress of a house." 
 
 " I thought so. She might have spared herself the trouble." 
 
 His frown troubled the young baroness, and to soothe him 
 she said by way of excuse, " It was kindness on her part." 
 
 Otto turned to her with admiration glowing in his eyes. 
 " Never mind," he whispered, gently. " Her ' kindness' shall 
 not trouble you again."
 
 192 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 When the meal was ended, Frau von Arning, who felt very 
 much out of place in this household, took her leave. Otto as 
 well as the canoness accompanied the guests to their carriage, 
 but poor Beatrice was not allowed to leave Ermsdal without* 
 another lesson from Friiulein von Tretten as a reward for her 
 amiability. As they were getting into the carriage, one of the 
 untiring knitting-needles fell from Aunt Bernhardine's hand 
 upon the ground. The young girl instantly stooped, picked 
 it up, and handed it to the old lady with a charming smile, 
 receiving by way of thanks the harsh remark, that it was " sin- 
 ful extravagance to trail such a costly dress in the dirt." True, 
 a warning look from Otto stopped further observations of the 
 kind, but Beatrice seated herself for the homeward drive much 
 depressed in spirits, and wondering whether it would ever be 
 possible for her to live happily with that old lady. 
 
 Otto gazed after the carriage as it rolled away, until Aunt 
 Bernhardine's voice routed him from his dreams. 
 
 "A spoiled child," she said, shrugging her shoulders; "a 
 little piece of affectation. However, she is young and shy ; 
 she may yet, with strict training, be of some use in the house- 
 hold." 
 
 Otto turned sternly upon the speaker. " I am glad you have 
 spoken upon this point," he replied, "for it is best that we 
 should clearly understand each other. And I wish you dis- 
 tinctly to comprehend that what I want is a wife, not a house- 
 keeper. You call Beatrice a child, — a spoiled child : it may . 
 be so. Just what she is, in all her charming ingenuousness, I 
 would have her always. She shall never work as I have had to 
 do. As much as lies in mortal power I will do to prote.-i her 
 not only from the tempests of life, but also from its daily an- 
 noyances. Her presence : hall bo i\\: peaceful harbour whither 
 I can flee from the troubled waters of existence." He paused, 
 wellnigh carried away by the picture he was conjuring up in his 
 imagination. His aunt's half-astonished, half-contemptuous
 
 A FA MIL y FEUD. 193 
 
 expression reminded liim that he was speaking a tongue of 
 which Frilulein von Tretten was ignorant. He therefore con- 
 cluded, with calm decision. " You will admit. Aunt Bernhar- 
 dine, that since we have lived together T have never criticised 
 your ways or your conduct. I demand the same consideration 
 on your part for Beatrice. The scene of to-day must never 
 be repeated. I will not have it." 
 
 The canoness at length found speech for the amazement 
 excited by Otto's words and manner. 
 
 " Good heavens !" she exclaimed, " you are becoming elo- 
 quent. I have not heard such a lengthy harangue from you 
 for years. It is a fortunate thing that no one overheard you, 
 or it really might have given rise to the report that the girl's 
 moonlight eyes had turned your brain." 
 
 Arning shrugged his shoulders. " I am never troubled by 
 reports about myself I shall exact respect for my wife in 
 word and deed from every one upon my estates, from the 
 greatest to the least. You know that I mean what I say, 
 Aunt Bernhardine ; pray take my words to heart if there is to 
 be peace between us." 
 
 The words sounded harsh and unfilial towards a woman who 
 had filled a mother's place to the Freiherr ever since his birth. 
 But we reap what we sow. If it be true that the man of noble 
 mind honours as his true friend the one who, in the dark hour 
 when evil passions sway him, ever pleads with him for the 
 right, it is equally true that none can honour one who is but 
 the echo of passion and who fans an evil thought to a flame. 
 As soon as the hour of passion has passed, repentance brings 
 with it a feeling of bitterness towards the tempter. Such an 
 echo, such an adviser. Aunt Bernhardine had always been to 
 her nephew. True, Otto, even when most carried away by 
 passion and indignation, had instinctively recoiled from Frilu- 
 lein von Tretten' s advice and hinted desires, but unconsciously, 
 and against his will, he had given way to her influence here 
 I 17
 
 194 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 and there ; he was daily more and more convinced of this, 
 and tliat without tliis evil genius by his side his quarrel with 
 Theresa would never have been so bitter. This conviction did 
 not indeed lessen his own self-reproach, but it tended greatly 
 to diminish his affection for the only human being who in all 
 the phases of his unhappy life had been faithful to him. 
 
 CHAPTEK XVII. 
 
 The drive back to Buchdorf was not a cheerful one. It 
 seemed almost as if in the hearts of the mother and daughter 
 there was a foreboding of the misfortune which was so soon 
 and so unexpectedly to assail them. 
 
 Arrived at home, Frau von Arning found upon her writing- 
 table three dirty letters with ill-written addresses, the perusal 
 of which excited first disgust, then surprise, and lastly utter 
 dismay. Beatrice watched with anxiety her mother grow 
 pale and paler as she read, and start up with an indignant 
 exclamation when she had finished the last soiled sheet. 
 The poor girl's troubled inq,uiry, however, received no reply. 
 Theresa's courage had not yet failed her ; the strong-willed 
 woman did not want a confidant for her troubles, but help, and 
 help she could not expect from Beatrice. 
 
 " Send for Herr Warne," she called out. " Oh, no, I forgot — • 
 he is no longer in Buchdorf. Then send for Herr von Tannen. 
 Tell him I beg him to come to me instantly, — but stay, per- 
 haps I had better go to him myself." And gathering up the 
 letters, she sprang into the carriage, which had not yet driven 
 from the door. " To Wingen, as quickly as you can !" she 
 ordered the coachman, without even allowing the horses a rest.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 195 
 
 Scarcely two hours afterwards the baroness presented her- 
 self before Herr von Tannen in his comfortable sanctum. 
 
 " Tell me, for God's sake, what has happened, madarae ?" 
 the old baron said, terrified at her troubled aspect and agitated 
 demeanour. 
 
 Instead of replying, Frau von Arning held out to him the 
 letters she had received. Their contents were similar, and set 
 forth the demands of Messrs. Aaron, Levi, and Katzenberg, 
 
 three well-known money-lenders in M , that the Baroness 
 
 von Arning should immediately repay the sums borrowed of 
 them at such and such dates under her own hand and seal, 
 for which sums she had pledged her estate of Buehdorf. 
 Each concluded with a remonstrance addressed to Frau von 
 Arning for applying, without informing the writer, to two 
 other money-lenders, when only the assurance that the prop- 
 erty pledged was free from incumbrance would have procured 
 her the large loan required. The aggregate of all these loans 
 at their high rate of interest amounted to hundreds of thou- 
 sands. A copy of the baroness's note of hand was appended 
 to each letter, which concluded with a threat of resorting to 
 legal measures if the payment in full were not made in the 
 course of three weeks. 
 
 With a melancholy shake of the head, Tannen examined 
 the mysterious papers. 
 
 " And you have not borrowed this money ?" he asked. 
 
 " Not a single thaler, as heaven is my witness." 
 
 " Ilm, hm ! strange, very strange ; the rascals seem quite 
 sure of their case. Is it possible, madame, that you can have 
 let any paper leave your hands which has been taken advan- 
 tage of by these blood-suckers ?" 
 
 " Never ; never a note nor a signature, except " A 
 
 sudden flash of consciousness shot through Theresa's mind. 
 " V^es, I have given Warne from time to time my signature 
 to certain blank formulas which he assured me were leases,
 
 196 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 etc. But I never will believe he could so misuse my confi- 
 dence." 
 
 "He has misused it," Tannen replied, decidedly. "He 
 and no other is the perpetrator of this monstrous fraud. I 
 
 always told you to beware of him, and Well, that is 
 
 past now, and cannot help matters. Send for him and call him 
 to account." 
 
 " He left my house two weeks ago," the baroness dejectedly 
 replied. 
 
 " Without leaving any address, of course. Proof sufficient. 
 Let me pray you, my dear friend, not to agitate yourself thus. 
 Take courage ; the coming day will shed light on this afhiir. 
 Have we not already found a clue ? Nothing further can be 
 done to-day, so have patience." 
 
 The old man expended all his eloquence, and fitially induced 
 Theresa to wait until the nest day, and for the present to 
 return quietly to Buchdorf 
 
 Beatrice met her on the threshold, pale and agitated. Her 
 mother reproached herself for having left her darling without 
 a word of consolation. She now declared that her excitement 
 was the consequence of a mistake of her own, and that Baron 
 von Tannen was coming on the morrow to set matters straight. 
 Beatrice retired to bed entirely soothed and content. 
 
 The next day Tannen rode over early, and spent the morn- 
 ing closeted with the baroness, going over the steward's books 
 and accounts. The result was most disastrous, as Tannen 
 had foreseen from the first. However certain Theresa might 
 be of the steward's guilt, Warne was far too cunning a 
 knave to have furnished her with any handle for legal pro- 
 ceedings against him, even had she known where he was to be 
 found. His books were faultless ; there was a kind of mock- 
 ery in their exactitude, showing as it did with cynical frank- 
 ness the yearly depreciation of the property. Some loans 
 were not signed, but were explained thus : " 5000 thalers
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 197 
 
 for interest;" and again, "3000 tlialers forFrauvon Arning's 
 private expenses;" " 2000 do. ; 1600 sent to her in Switzer- 
 land." 
 
 Frau von Arning distinctly remembered receiving these 
 last sums. According to the books her expenses far exceeded 
 her income. If then she had actually used more money than 
 her estates would yield, it must have been procured elsewhere ; 
 there could be no doubt of that. Warne had laid his plans 
 well in thus contriving to make his mistress his accomplice, 
 for who would believe that she knew nothing of these loans, 
 or of the state of her own finances? Of course not one- 
 half of the money had gone through her hands, as was clear 
 from the fact that the steward had passed in a few years 
 from poverty to a state of competency. But there was no 
 possibility of founding any accusation of him upon this fact, 
 for he asserted, and a legal document verified this assertion, 
 that he had inherited from his father the money which he 
 possessed. 
 
 With a deep-drawn sigh, Baron Tannen pushed aside the 
 books and papers that had occupied him for eight long hours, 
 and when Theresa asked anxiously, " Tannen, my best, my 
 only friend, tell me, what must I, what can I do ?" he replied, 
 " Pay, dear madanie, pay. God grant that cursed scoundrel 
 his due reward ! But there is nothing else for you to do. If 
 the notes of those usurers are as correct as their copies and 
 these books, there is no course to be taken except payment of 
 the whole as soon as possible." 
 
 The baroness leaned heavily upon the table at which she 
 stood. " And if I cannot pay?" 
 
 Tannen knew that she could not, and sat mute with dowu- 
 cast eyes. 
 
 •' They say in their letters that I have pledged Buchdorf," 
 the baroness continued slowly, and emphasizing each word. 
 " Then I must resign Buchdorf" 
 
 17*
 
 198 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 " Would to God I could give you other help than mere 
 words!'' the good old baron cried, springing up from his seat; 
 " but my hands are tied. My property consists chiefly of the 
 two estates which I made over to my sons last year, and I 
 have not at my command any sum which even approximates 
 the amount of your indebtedness. But do not lose courage. 
 Nothing is lost as yet, dear madame. Let me advise you to 
 consult Otto. He will feel honoured by your confidence, and, 
 besides, he is the only human being who can help you in 
 this emergency ; he is rich, independent, understands men 
 and things, and knows how to deal with them. Therefore, if 
 you can only so far overcome your pride as to " 
 
 " Never !" All the powerless but invincible pride of the 
 woman's nature was evident in this one word. 
 
 Tannen shrugged his shoulders, and quietly determined 
 himself to apprise Otto of the condition of affairs. He con- 
 soled the distressed baroness as much as lay in his power by 
 hinting at the possibility of some legal error in the Jews' 
 notes, or, if the worst came to the worst, of some composition 
 of the debt. The kindly old man had been prepared for tears 
 and passionate regrets, and the mute, stony resignation with 
 which the baroness listened to his words of consolation without 
 heeding their import, distressed and terrified him. 
 
 After a long while the beautiful woman's compressed lips 
 parted to utter wearily the words, " What do you think of 
 me, Tannen ?" 
 
 The question cut the baron to the heart. " My dear friend." 
 
 " Tell me what you think of mc," Theresa repeated pas- 
 sionately. " What do you think of a mother who watches over 
 her child with such anxiety that she heaps suspicion upon an 
 innocent man because he does not seem to accord that child 
 the amount of affection the mother believes her entitled to, 
 and who then with her own hand plunges her daughter into 
 misery?"
 
 A FA MIL r FEUD. 199 
 
 " Not by her own fault," the baron ventured to interpose. 
 
 " By my own fault ; that you know as well as I, Herr 
 von Tannen. Why hesitate to say so ? There lie the books 
 where the whole fraud has been clearly shown with matchless 
 arrogance for years. I needed only to examine them, and it 
 was my duty to do so ! But the wretch knew me — my frivol- 
 ity, my weakness — only too well ; he knew how far he might 
 defy me, and repaid my blind confidence in his honesty in the 
 coin which it merited." 
 
 Tannen could not reply to this passionate self-accusation on 
 the part of the unhappy woman, who had sunk again into her 
 former apathy. The early winter evening was rapidly ap- 
 proaching, and it was time for him to return to his home, lest 
 his family should be anxious. Still, he did not wish to leave 
 the baroness alone. 
 
 " Beatrice must know all this, madame," he said, decidedly. 
 " I will send her to you. Promise me to tell the child the 
 whole matter to-night." 
 
 The baroness made no reply, but her face expressed such 
 pain and horror that Tannen saw clearly that she would not 
 undertake the task proposed. He therefore took it upon him- 
 self to inform Beatrice of the sad turn aifairs had taken. To 
 his extreme surprise, she received with a degree of calm bor- 
 dering on indiiFerence the information which he gave her 
 with great hesitation and reluctance. How should she under- 
 stand what poverty meant? She knew of the misery which 
 it brings only from bf oks, where it was for the most part 
 invested with a poetic interesi: rarely to be met with in real 
 life. Only when Tannen spoke of her mother's despair did 
 she seem distressed, and immediately she hurried to seek her 
 out. But her appearance did not, as the baron had hoped, 
 have the effect of soothing the wretched woman's woe. Of 
 all people on earth her daughter was the one the sight of 
 whom the baroness could at present the least endure. As
 
 200 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 soon as she saw her she fled to her own apartment, where she 
 locked her doors and refused to open them even at Beatrice's 
 tearful entreaty. She did not hear the words of comfort 
 uttered by her child ; they were drowned by the loud accusing 
 voice of conscience. 
 
 " It is not for myself," she thought with a shudder. " I knew 
 poverty in ray youth ; its face is familiar to me. But Beatrice ? 
 She has been bred in a luxury which I am condemned to 
 snatch from her. And Buchdorf sold ! In Italy, surrounded 
 by the wealth of nature and art, she was homesick for thi.s 
 spot. How can she endure to leave it, beggared, perhaps to 
 see its beauty disfigured by rude hands ? Will she be able to 
 survive it?" 
 
 When Beatrice received no answer to her loving words she 
 became alarmed. Had her mother fainted ? or might she not 
 in her despair do herself a mischief? Terrible fancies assailed 
 the young girl's brain, and there was no means of procuring 
 access to the unhappy woman. Beatrice looked around the 
 elegant boudoir where she stood, and for the first time in her 
 life felt really helpless and forsaken. She thought of Otto, 
 and involuntarily her lips softly uttered the words, " If he were 
 here he would know what to do." She did not know how he 
 could help her, but in her perfect confidence in him she felt 
 convinced that he could do so. She determined to send a 
 messenger to him. In four hours he could be at Buchdorf. 
 Four hours was, to be sure, a long time to wait ; but " better 
 late than never," she thought, as she hurried out to send a 
 servant upon her errand. 
 
 Below in the court-yard men and maids were crowded 
 together, gossiping; they already surmised something of the 
 impending disaster. Detached words and phrases of their talk 
 fell upon the girl's ear as she stood in the comdor, and seemed 
 to her like the mad, disconnected sentences of the fantastic 
 creations of a feverish dream.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 201 
 
 " Old Friedricli was right ; there is to be an end of all this 
 fine living." 
 
 " Did you see Herr von Tannen ride off?" 
 
 " The old baron looked sad enough." 
 
 " We needn't be so, at all events, to have the stranger 
 baroness, with her freaks and whims, sent off to where she 
 came from." 
 
 " I think, for my part " 
 
 " Nonsense ! I tell you Master Otto will never let Buch- 
 dorf come to the hammer." 
 
 " Well, the Lord will see to it " 
 
 " And high time he did ! Buchdorf does not look like 
 itself any more." 
 
 " Were you ever at Ermsdal ?" 
 
 " Every day-labourer there has his cow." 
 
 " And a full hay-rick." 
 
 " Yes, it was always better under the Von Arnings ; they 
 were born here and belong to us." 
 
 " Things never go right when people care more for their 
 park than for their fields." 
 
 " Or when they use their men for letter-carriers and grooms 
 instead of sending them to plough." 
 
 Beatrice blushed. It was the first time that any of her 
 youthful illusions had been dispelled, and it was a bitter ex- 
 perience. But instead of depressing her the lesson aroused 
 her slumbering pride. She silently wrapped herself in a dark 
 cloak, hid her heavy braids beneath a hood, and went down 
 stairs. She could not send one of those men upon her errand. 
 The hour for quitting work had struck ; she would not impose 
 upon them her " freaks and whims." But as, without a word, 
 she passed through the court-yard, there was such dignity in 
 her carriage and such resolve in her pale face, that the boldest 
 of the servants respectfully withdrew. 
 
 The ground had been lightly frozen through the day, but 
 I*
 
 202 A FA MIL V FEUD. 
 
 now the skies had become overcast, and a southern wind was 
 driving before it masses of snow-clouds. Beatrice never heeded 
 the signs of the weather ; she hurried aci'oss the bare fields, 
 through the leafless woods. She could fetch help sooner and 
 more surely than could be done by either horse or wagon. 
 Only a league lay between her and Ermsdal, if she could bring 
 herself to cross the moor. And why should not the frozen 
 ground bear her footsteps ? Had she not traversed it as a 
 child unharmed, although the soil was drenched with heavy 
 rains ? The undertaking was not half so dangerous as the 
 peasants fancied ; she had often watched the dreary waste from 
 her window, whence it looked quite easy to cross. 
 
 When, however, she reached the edge of the forest and 
 found herself alone amid the quiet wintry landscape, before 
 the dreary waste on the horizon of which the moon was rising 
 ghostly and pale amid torn and flying clouds, she shuddered 
 and involuntarily paused. She was still firmly resolved, but 
 no longer cheerfully self-confident ; she clasped her hands and 
 looked upwards to the clouded skies, as if invoking heaven's 
 protection upon her perilous walk. 
 
 Suddenly she felt a light touch upon her shoulder, and a 
 voice asked, " Shall I show you the way across, white dove ?" 
 
 Turning, startled, Beatrice saw at her side Moorland Elsie, 
 her arms and feet bare as upon the warmest day in July, while 
 on her head she wore only a wreath of ivy, its dark berries 
 drooping on either side of her swarthy brow. 
 
 Her terror speedily vanished ; Elsbeth was the only creature 
 who could be of service to her, and fortunately she seemed 
 willing to help. 
 
 " I must go over to Ermsdal !" she said, with a sigh of 
 relief; " and I will be more grateful to you than I can tell 
 if you will guide me thither." 
 
 Brown Elsie looked down with a frown ; she clenched her 
 hand, and an evil smile hovered about her mouth. But Bea-
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 203 
 
 trice never observed these signs as her companion clasped her 
 wrist and drew her along with her, saying, " Come, then." 
 
 Without another word she walked on so quickly that the 
 young baroness could scarcely keep pace with her. And the 
 ground, too, was much softer than she had thought to find it ; 
 whenever she did not follow exactly in Elsie's footprints, her 
 foot would slip in above the ankle ; she was obliged to concen- 
 ti-;ite all her attention upon where she was stepping, and had 
 no time to address a word to her mute companion. 
 
 Nearly an hour was consumed in thus wearily wandering on 
 the waste, and as yet no friendly twinkle of light indicated the 
 situation of Ermsdal. The bell in a distant tower tolled the 
 hour ; its tone rang clear and sweet across the moorland ; to 
 Beatrice it came as a warning cry. Where could she be ? 
 The sound of the bell was unfamiliar to her ears ; it did not 
 come either from Ermsdal or from Buchdorf. What if the 
 inexplicable creature by her side were wilfully leading her 
 astray ? Whither should she turn for help ? Around her 
 nothing was to be seen but the wide, swampy moor. 
 
 Again Beatrice looked to heaven, as if for aid, and, lo ! it 
 made answer to her prayer. The black clouds above her had 
 scattered, the stars were shining with wintry splendour in the 
 steadfast blue, and she knew that she had been deceived. 
 
 For upon the heavenly pathway leading from her chamber 
 window to Ermsdal, every star was as familiar to her as the 
 trees in the park where she had grown up, and now when she 
 looked towards the skies the conviction fell with icy certainty 
 upon her heart that she had been wilfully misled by her guide. 
 Ermsdal lay far distant on the right, and they were rapidly 
 approaching the most dangerous and dreaded portion of the 
 moor, concerning which a thousand terrible legends were rife 
 among the peasantry. 
 
 Beatrice stood still. " I will not go one step farther," she 
 declared. " Elsbeth, you are leading me astray. This is not
 
 204 A FA MIL r FEUD. 
 
 the way to Ernisdal ; tlic estate lies there, and we are going 
 directly towards the ' Black Swamp.' " 
 
 The brown sprite gazed at her in surprise and confusion for 
 one moment, and then laughed jeeringly. " If you know the 
 moor so well, go yourself where you please !" And tossing from 
 her Beatrice's hand, which she had still held in her own, 
 Moorland Elsie turned and ran like a deer over the marshy 
 soil. 
 
 " Elsbeth !" the young baroness called after her, in vain 
 trying to follow her ; at the first step she sank in water to her 
 knee. She succeeded indeed in extricating herself without 
 much trouble and in reaching her former position, a spot of 
 firm ground about three feet in diameter, but what had she 
 gained? The prospect of spending a long winter's night in 
 wet clothing alone on a wild moor could be tempting to no 
 one, least of all to a girl fostered in luxury. And how her 
 poor mother would suffer in missing her ! The child would 
 have been more than woman not to do as she did in view of 
 this fresh misfortune, — seek relief in a burst of tears. 
 
 About an hour before these occurrences, old Stina had re- 
 turned from a long absence to the hut on the edge of the 
 moor. Her back was bending under a load of fagots gathered 
 in the forest ; she leaned, groaning, upon her crutch-handled 
 stick ; it was easy to see that the crone's strength was wellnigh 
 spent. But there was no one to assist her. Elsbeth was wan- 
 dering somewhere in the forest, and her grandmother, if she 
 would not die of cold, was forced to seek her daily fuel in the 
 Repach woods. 
 
 The old woman paused beneath the stunted birch and 
 coughed, and then wiped the tears from her eyes. True, 
 Mother Stina was not the softest of her sex, but to-day a 
 strange weakness had seized her, and she would have given 
 much for the touch of a kindly hand. She had borne children,
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 205 
 
 many children ; but where were they ? Dead, or scattered 
 through the world. There was none to take pity upon her age. 
 Was she cursed ? Was it, as she herself had said, the just 
 punishment of her sins? The woman sank on her knees; she 
 could bear no further the weight of the burden on her back, 
 and perhaps of some memory of her ill-spent life. She buried 
 licr face in her withered hands and groaned aloud. Suddenly 
 she heard a low mew by her side, soft fur pressed against her 
 hands, and looking up she saw the black cat, the faithful 
 companion of so many of her weary hours. In summer or 
 ■winter, rain or snow, this animal awaited its mistress at this 
 hour beneath this stunted tree, and as it now crept close to 
 her, purring loudly, it seemed longing to express some sym- 
 pathy. Mother Stina turned to it with a caress ; it was the 
 only earthly being who looked to her for kindness and with 
 kindness. 
 
 When'Elsbeth came home, a bright fire was crackling upon 
 the hearth, and the tallow candle cast a flickering light over 
 the old woman, who lay upon the bed, breathing heavily in an 
 uneasy sleep, while the cat wandered mewing about the room. 
 He was the sole guardian of the lonely hut, which in truth 
 needed no other, — for who would dream that old Stina pos- 
 sessed anything worth the stealing? 
 
 But Elsbeth's sharp eyes espied the key of the gaily-painted 
 chest left for once sticking in the key-hole. Without even 
 looking towards her grandmother, whose extreme weakness 
 alone could have occasioned such neglect with regard to her 
 cherished depository, the girl with one noiseless bound stood 
 before the object of her life-long curiosity. 
 
 The key turned with a creak ; the painted lid was lifted. 
 Elsbeth took the candle, and began with breathless eagerness 
 to investigate the contents of the chest. On top lay piles of 
 rags, but beneath them was a small paste-board box, — how 
 heavy it was ! — this alone was worth the trouble of the search. 
 
 18
 
 206 A FA MIL V FEUD. 
 
 Elsbeth poised it on the palm of her little hand, when sud- 
 denly the old, worn sides gave way, and shining yellow coins 
 rolled clinking and glittering hither and thither upon the 
 mud floor of the hut. 
 
 The girl did not pause to collect the coin ; she eagerly pur- 
 sued her search, for a certain instinct told her that she had not 
 yet discovered what she should most prize, — the goose that 
 laid such golden eggs for old Stina. 
 
 What was this which she dragged forth from among the 
 rags ? With a cry of savage joy, she sprang to her feet. Ah ! 
 here was the solution of the riddle which had so puzzled her 
 all these years. Here was the explanation of the strange tie 
 between her grandmother and the reserved misanthropic master 
 of Ermsdal ! Warne, too, must have known of this secret, and 
 by his knowledge had ruled the obstinate old woman with a 
 rod of iron. In an instant all that Elsbeth had watched and 
 waited and longed to understand lay clear before her. The 
 characters and motives, the ends and aims of the various per- 
 sonages who filled the drama of her life were illuminated as 
 by the light of the sun. True, what she had found would 
 have possessed but small interest to the uninitiated ; it con- 
 sisted only of a white embroidered child's dress, yellow with 
 age, and a little brown kid shoe, bound with a delicate golden 
 chain at the end of which dangled a small sparkling cross ; 
 that was all. But to Elsie, who had forgotten nothing that 
 she had ever known of the lives of those whose faces had been 
 familiar to her from childhood, these articles were of inde- 
 scribable significance. Triumphantly she held her treasure 
 aloft, when suddenly her eyes fell upon the bed, and involun- 
 tarily she recoiled. 
 
 The old woman had propped herself up on her elbow, and 
 her light-blue eyes stared at her grandchild with a look of such 
 horror that even that bold girl felt her blood for an instant 
 curdle in her veins. Kage, hate, and a nameless terror, every-
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 207 
 
 tiling that the labouring breast in vain strove to give utterance 
 to, lay in the gaze of those wide-open eyes. 
 
 " Els," she gasped at last, struggling for breath, " Els, shut 
 up the money again. It is not mine. I am a poor, poor old 
 woman. Els. Be a good child." 
 
 It was a sign of her excessive weakness, that she asked al- 
 most as a favour what she would once have demanded with 
 blows. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," Elsbeth replied, picking up some of the 
 gold and letting it slip through her fingers. " How they glit- 
 ter! No one can see the drop of blood on each of the shining 
 things ! Don't be afraid — I don't want your money, granny. 
 I have here a wishing-cap that will bring me what I like much 
 better." 
 
 With an expression of despairing terror, old Stina gazed at 
 her tormentor. " You must not suspect. Els," she moaned — 
 " those rags are of no consequence — it is only — only a " 
 
 " Only the feathers of the white dove which the weasel 
 brought you to pluck," Elsbeth mockingly completed the 
 sentence. " Do not deny it — you cannot. I shall soon prove 
 their value. To-morrow I will go early to Ermsdal, — perhaps 
 the Herr Baron will pay me some heed now," she interposed 
 with a sneer, — " and when he has paid for my silence, I will 
 go to Buchdorf and tell the pretty tale to his lovely bride " 
 
 " Els, Els," shrieked her grandmother, despair in her voice, 
 " would you have me die in a jail ? Perhaps on the gallows? 
 Elsbeth, my hair is white — I have always taken care of you 
 —pity me, Els !" 
 
 The girl shrugged her shoulders. " I must at least know 
 all about the matter," she replied. " You had nothing to gain 
 by the child's death, — who, then, employed you?" 
 
 " The aunt, Els," the crone hastily answered, " the aunt. I 
 peddled a little then, and had sold laces to the canoncss. Once 
 as I was leaving her she touched my shoulder and said in a
 
 208 A FA MIL V FEUD. 
 
 whisper, ' To-night at seven.' Then she looked at me. I 
 knew, I knew that I was wanted for no good." 
 
 A terrible fit of cougliing interrupted her, but Elsbeth 
 urged her to go on. The confession seemed indeed to afford 
 Mother Stina a kind of relief, for as soon as she could she 
 continued. " In the evening when I went to her we settled 
 it all. She said she spoke for her nephew, who would not 
 undertake it himself At first I refused. You see, Els. chil- 
 dren have a way of looking so innocently into your eyes. 
 Many and many a time I have cursed my own brats, and yet 
 I brought them all up. I said that to the canoness, but she 
 promised me money enough to keep me from want all my life. 
 Well, your mother had been lying ill for weeks, you were run- 
 ning about half naked, and winter was at hand. So I said 
 yes, and went to Buchdorf. But I never harmed the child. 
 Els," the hag hastily added ; " I had not the heart. The 
 man who wanted me to kill so pretty a little doll was a for 
 more hardened sinner than I. As I was carrying the child in 
 my arms over the moor the thought came to me. Leave it to 
 chance. So I took off her dress, bound the little thing to the 
 heather, and ran and ran until I was in safety. I never knew 
 how it had all turned out until I came back to Ermsdal years 
 afterwards. Our master gave me this house to live in ; he 
 never spoke to me of the reason why, nor I to him ; he did 
 not care to talk of it, nor did I. This is all, Els, all, so help 
 me God ! Have pity. Els, and let me die in peace." 
 
 " You shall, grandmother," Elsbeth replied. " All that I 
 want is revenge. I will force the Herr Baron now to see mo 
 when he meets me. He shall never lead his Avhite dove to 
 church. I will not have it, and here are the means to 
 hinder it!" 
 
 "Why do you want to hinder it, Els?" her grandmother 
 weakly gasped. " What good will it do you to make the pooi 
 Fraulein unhappy ? For she loves him, Els, I know it."
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 209 
 
 Moorland Elsie tossed her head, on which the wreath of ivy 
 lay like a crown. " And why should she have everything for 
 which it pleases her to stretch forth her hand ?" she asked, 
 wildly. " What better right has she than I, who never yet 
 saw one of my desires fulfilled ? Could she not content her- 
 self with that silly boy ? I should never have disputed her 
 possession of him. Who sent her to cross my path ? I told 
 you once before, grandmother, the master pleases me. And in 
 the only teaching which the Herr Pastor condescends to give 
 such a creature as I, I learn that it is evil to take his one 
 lamb from the poor man. I shall guard mine well. True," 
 she added, with a bitter curl of her lip, " I know only too 
 surely that the haughty Herr Baron will never think of me as 
 anything other than the beggar-girl whom accident forces him 
 to keep upon his laud ; but she shall not have him ; no, nor 
 any other woman on this earth. I will be his evil spirit. 
 And sh^ shall not peri.sh on the moor; she shall live to feel 
 the sorrow which to-morrow will bring her." 
 
 After these words, in which she poured forth the gathered 
 hate and bitterness of years, Brown Elsie hurriedly picked up 
 the scattered money, thrust it back into the chest, clapped her 
 hands, and ran out of the hut, while Mother Stina sank back 
 utterly exhausted among her pillows. 
 
 Two hours had passed since Beatrice had been left alone 
 on the moor, and her wretchedness was almost more than the 
 poor girl could endure. She shivered in the cold night wind, 
 her cheeks and eyes were swollen with tears, and in addition 
 she was assailed by a host of terrors which would have had no 
 existence by the light of day, but which might have beset 
 even a strong man alone and helpless on that ghastly waste. 
 Suddenly a figure appeared in the dim light of the clouded 
 moon, it scarcely seemed to touch the ground, approaching 
 rapidly and without the slightest hesitation to where Beatrice 
 stood. 
 
 18*
 
 210 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 " 'Tis Elsbeth or some sprite," Beatrice thouglit, pressing 
 her cold hand to her beating heart. A few seconds more, and 
 Brown Elsie stood beside her. 
 
 "I will truly be your guide now, white dove," she said; 
 " not to Ermsdal, indeed, but back to Buchdorf." 
 
 Beatrice hesitated a moment. " What if you mislead me 
 again ?" she asked. 
 
 " Why, look up to your big map overhead, if you do not 
 trust me ; but you need have no fear. I will lead you to the 
 third group of trees on the left of the pond in Buchdorf park. 
 If I do not, set your dogs upon me to-morrow." 
 
 Beatrice with a sinking heart resolved to follow the strange 
 being whom she believed to be not in her right mind. She 
 feared some snare even up to the moment when Buchdorf lay 
 plainly in sight and her foot touched dry ground. But her 
 guide proved trustworthy this time. At the spot she had 
 designated she dropped the young baroness's hand and turned 
 to go. Beatrice began to stammer some words of thanks to 
 propitiate the girl, but Elsie cut them short with " Spare me 
 your thanks, white dove ; to-morrow at this hour you will wish 
 you lay deep in the moorland marsh ; think then of Brown 
 Elsie." 
 
 She vanished among the trees, while Beatrice hurried as 
 fast as her feet could carry her along the familiar paths towards 
 her home. 
 
 She reached the house without further peril, and found 
 every one there in the wildest state of anxiety regarding her 
 absence, of which her mother had become aware about half an 
 hour previously. The torture Theresa had endured beggars 
 description. But her terror had so far been of service that it 
 had roused her from her apathy, into which care for Beatrice, 
 whose failing forces brought her nigh to a fainting-fit, did not 
 allow her to relapse.
 
 A FA MIL r FEUD. 211 
 
 CHAPTER XVII L 
 
 Aunt Berniiardine opened the window- shutters and piit 
 her gray head out into the morning mist, through which the 
 round red ball of the sun was just visible. But it was not 
 the sun that attracted her gaze ; Moorland Elsie was crouching 
 upon the door-step. 
 
 " Get up instantly and go away !" the canoness said, in an 
 angry tone. " Do you think our threshold is a refuge for 
 vagabonds? What do you want ?" > 
 
 " Certainly not your kind ' good-morning,' " was the insolent 
 reply; " nor, indeed, yourself at all. I want the master." 
 
 " My nephew ? Indeed ! And what can yo\i want of him J"' 
 
 " Money, by your leave," Elsbeth said, boldly, slipping past 
 the canoness, as she opened the door, into the house. 
 
 "Money!" repeated Friiulein von Tretten, amazed. "And 
 what for, pray, if I may ask ?" 
 
 " You may ask, but I would not advise the master to be- 
 think himself what for for too long a time. I might refresh 
 his memory in a way that would not particularly please him." 
 As she spoke, Elsbeth twirled the golden cross between her 
 fingers, and made as if she would ascend the stairs to Otto's 
 study. 
 
 But Aunt Bernhardine's bony fingers encircled her wrist 
 like a vice. " Stay, girl," she said under her breath in great 
 agitation. " j\Iy nephew must never see that cross, never ! 
 Do you understand me? I do not know how it came into 
 your possession. I thought it was destroyed long ago. But 
 come, come with me. I will give you money. How much do 
 you want? Come with me."
 
 212 A FA MIL r FEUD. 
 
 As she spoke, slie drew Elsie into the sitting-room, and 
 opened a drawer in which notes and silver coin were arranged 
 in perfect order. "How much do you want?" the canoness 
 hurriedly demanded. 
 
 Elsie saw clearly that her attempt to humiliate Baron von 
 Arning must be given up for to-day. Her anger at finding 
 her hope thus destroyed was lost in her surprise at this unex- 
 pected discovery. What, the master must not see the cross ! 
 Then he really knew nothing of the crime that had been com- 
 mitted in his name ! Such a possibility had never occurred 
 to either Elsbeth or old Stina. 
 
 Hard as was Brown Elsie's heart, it could not but be stirred 
 oy a momentary pity for the man so deceived by his nearest 
 relative. This better feeling, however, vanished like the light 
 of the will-o'-the-wisp, and she replied, insolently, " That kind 
 of money will do me no good — silver is too heavy and paper 
 too light ; if you really wish to pay instead of the master, let 
 it be in shining gold pieces, about — how many shall we say ? 
 One would slip through the hole in my pocket, and one hun- 
 dred would tear the pocket out entirely. Well, give me a 
 good round dozen then, and I will not trouble you again this 
 year." 
 
 Aunt Bernhardine stiffened with dismay ; she had hoped to 
 buy oiF the beggar-girl with a few thalers, and only on that 
 account had so readily acceded to her demand for money. 
 
 " You insolent gipsy wench !" she exclaimed, indignantly . 
 " Do you suppose you can rob me thus with impunity ? An- 
 other word, and I will have you sent off from Ermsdal " 
 
 " Buchdorf will gladly receive us," Elsbeth interrupted her, 
 negligently, as she held up the fatal articles of dress before the 
 eyes of the amazed canoness. 
 
 Fraulein von Tretten's anger, so far as any outward mani- 
 festation of it was concerned, was appeased immediately by 
 Elsbeth's last words as if by a spell. It was, however, all the
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 213 
 
 more intense tlius suppressed, and if she had been a younger 
 woman there is no saying what means she might have resorted 
 to to rid herself of so dangerous an accomplice. She saw 
 clearly that not a whisper of what the girl had to tell must be 
 breathed at Buchdorf She would try to outwit her adversary 
 by apparent compliance. 
 
 " I cannot immediately give you quite as much as you ask," 
 she said, with forced composure. " Only a few weeks ago I 
 paid your grandmother the twenty-four pieces of gold which, 
 according to our bargain, were to suffice for a year. It is 
 treachery on her part to send you to me now with such a 
 demand. Nevertheless, I would pay you if I could. Be rea- 
 sonable, Elsbeth. I will give you three more gold pieces if 
 you will wait three months. Look, everything that I possess 
 is in this drawer, and my nephew must never know " 
 
 Strong as Aunt Bernhardine's nerves were, she here inter- 
 rupted herself by what was almost a shriek. Otto was standing 
 in the door-way, his gun over his shoulder, in full hunting- 
 dress, apparently just about to leave the house. He must 
 have heard the last of the conversation. With a frown he 
 approached the terrified pair. " What do you owe old Stina, 
 aunt, that you cannot pay, and of which I must know nothing? 
 And what are these ?" he added, picking up the articles which 
 Elsbeth, in her confusion at his sudden appearance, had let fall 
 upon the table. 
 
 Elsbeth could read men's faces ; she had looked on with 
 indifference at many an outbreak of frantic despair, but the 
 change that passed over Otto's countenance as soon as he 
 had glanced at the objects in his hand filled her with horror. 
 The strong man grew whiter than the wall, and a shiver con- 
 vulsed him as he leaned for support upon the massive table. 
 He bent a stern, searching look upon the canoness, who stood 
 by the open drawer the picture of detected guilt. A short 
 pause of death-like silence ensued; there are no words for
 
 214 A FA MIL V FEUD. 
 
 what, during that space of time, passed in the minds of the 
 two people who had for many years dwelt peacefully beneath 
 the same roof. 
 
 " I wanted to — sell those old things to the lady," Elsbeth 
 stammered at last. It was the first kindly lie she had ever 
 told ; in truth, spite of all her insolence, she now wished she 
 had never come. 
 
 The Freiherr's only reply was a contemptuous wave of his 
 hand. 
 
 " And you have been paying old Stina for this cross for 
 fifteen yeara !" he said, turning to the canoness, with an icy 
 calm in words and manner far more annihilating than the most 
 violent outbreak could have been. " Was it because of tliis 
 cross that you persuaded me to give the old vagabond shelter 
 and protection upon my estate ? Was it because of this cross 
 that you, usually so intolerant, bore with all her strange con- 
 duct? All for the sake of this cross?" 
 
 Friiulein von Tretteu sought in vain for words in which to 
 reply ; but words were unnecessary ; in one dreadful moment 
 the whole fatal combination of circumstances had flashed upon 
 Otto's mind. He knew now that his aunt would fain have 
 committed murder, and for him. With the refined delicacy 
 of sensitively endowed natures which partly assume the re- 
 sponsibility of what has been done for their sakes, he felt his 
 soul burdened with a share of guilt, and, with sufi"ering as 
 keen as it was powerless, saw an insurmountable barrier thus 
 interposed between Beatrice and himself. 
 
 " And you would have allowed a pure innocent girl to bestow 
 her hand upon a murderer — her murderer?" he continued, 
 inexorably. 
 
 " Otto !" the canoness almost shrieked. The Freiherr turned 
 from her with contempt. 
 
 " No need to wring your hands thus, fiend in human shape 
 that you now seem to me. If your heart were susceptible of
 
 A FA MIL F FEUD. 215 
 
 pity yon would have felt it for a child but three years old ! 
 But you have nothing to fear. We are chained together more 
 closely than galley-slaves. Your honour is mine, — of course 1 
 shall pay. Come here, Elsbeth." He opened his desk. " How 
 much will buy your silence ?" 
 
 Piles of gold glittered in the compartments of the drawers, 
 the entire profits of the year's harvest, but for the moment 
 the sight was powerless to arouse the girl's cupidity. 
 
 " Twelve pieces of gold, I thought," she stammered, almost 
 timidly; "but there is no huriy. If " 
 
 Otto interrupted her. " Twelve pieces for the present," he 
 said, dully. " What price do you ask for perpetual silence ? 
 My engagement is of course at an end, but my betrothed 
 must never learn wherefore. So ask a good round sum for 
 these proofs, which must be given up to me, and let the matter 
 be at rest forever. How much do you want?" 
 
 "I do not know," Elsbeth, who was growing more and more 
 uncomfortable with every minute, answered, in a low tone. 
 
 Otto put his hand into a drawer and took thence a handful 
 of notes and gold without heeding their amount. " Here, 
 Elsbeth," he said, " look here ; is this enough ? or do you 
 want more ? Ask for all Ermsdal, if you will ! Be quick ! 
 Is it enough? or — here is more. I must be left in peace." 
 
 " This is enough," Brown Elsie said, in a tremor, covering 
 the heap of money with one hand, while with the other she 
 pushed from her the second handful which Otto held out to 
 her. She could not endure any longer to look into his deathly 
 pale face, or to listen to the words which nothing but an agony 
 that was almost madness could have wrung from so proud and 
 reserved a man as the lord of Ermsdal. Her end was gained, 
 however, — his engagement to Beatrice was broken. She pre- 
 pared instanily to leave the spot where for the first time in 
 her life she had experienced a species of shuddering respect 
 for the better <iualities of human nature.
 
 216 -4 FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 " Is that enough, then ?" Otto repeated, in the same calm, 
 business-like tone. " Enough for to-day and for always ? You 
 will never betray the secret, and never make any further de- 
 mand upon me ?' 
 
 " Never," Elsbeth said, emphatically. 
 
 The Freiherr pointed to the door, through which Elsbeth's 
 lithe, slender figure instantly made its escape, and the two 
 people whose intercourse had just reached so overwhelming a 
 crisis were left alone together. 
 
 A long silence ensued. Arning gazed fixedly into space, and 
 seemed entirely to have forgotten the presence of the canoness. 
 
 " Otto," she ventured at last to break the oppressive silence. 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Otto," she began again, after a while, " do not stand there 
 so stern and cold, as if I were not worthy of a glance. I 
 cannot bear it ! Whatever I may have done, I did for your 
 sake. Your incessant complaints and petulance drove me to 
 it. And if I transgressed both human and divine laws, you 
 at least have no right to reproach me." 
 
 Otto turned wearily towards her. "Aunt," he said, slowly, 
 " you acted upon a menace uttered by an angry boy in a 
 moment of insane agitation, — a menace which, I take God 
 to witness, would never else have had any result ! That, 
 however, does not alter the fact. I am the intellectual 
 perpetrator of this crime, and the responsibility of the inde- 
 scribable misery that it caused is mine as well as yours. I 
 therefore do not reproach you on account of my cousin's 
 untimely death, Beatrice's wretched childhood, and my own 
 forlorn existence, — all this you must settle with your own con- 
 science ; but you cannot but see that this hour has separated 
 us forever." 
 
 " That means," the canoness cried out, in wild distress, 
 " that in return for all my aifection, you will turn me adrift 
 in my old age to poverty and misery ?"
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 217 
 
 " No," Otto calmly replied ; " you shall live in luxury 
 wherever } ou choose, — in Ermsdal if you will ; but in that 
 case I shall put the ocean between us." 
 
 " Otto, Otto !" she cried, wringing her hands, " you cannot 
 mean that I it would be too hard !" 
 
 Affection for her nephew seemed to be the only kindly 
 emotion of her heart. Otto, however, was unmoved by the 
 sight of her grief. " The sight of you is painful to me." he 
 said, harshly, " and I must have peace, if I would live." 
 
 The thought of Beatrice, and of the happiness he had 
 dared to hope might be his, suddenly so overcame him that he 
 sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. Aunt 
 Bernhardine gathered fresh courage from this first sign of 
 human emotion. 
 
 " I will not go," she protested. " Neither entreaty nor 
 menace shall drive me from you. Otto. Who will care for 
 you if you send away the only living creature that has always 
 been true to you ? No, I will stay with you, — there is nothing 
 else to be done. And if you cross the sea. Otto, I will go 
 wherever you go, in spite of my age and infirmity." 
 
 Otto arose, with stern determination in his look, as he coldly 
 replied, " Thank God, there is one place whither you cannot 
 follow me. And be sure I will find some way to rid myself 
 of your presence." 
 
 With these words he left the room, and the canoness heai'd 
 him ascend the stairs, enter his own apartment, and bolt him- 
 self in. 
 
 She leaned trembling upon the table for support. All the 
 strength that was in her seemed to forsake her aged frame at 
 Otto's final words. Was her mortal career to end thus wretch- 
 edly ? The only human being for whom she entertained any 
 affection, he for whom she had slaved, and saved, and sinned, 
 turned from her with loathing ; no friendly hand would ever 
 close her dying eyes. What was she living for ? 
 K 1<J
 
 218 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 She tried not to believe wluit she knew but too well. She 
 sent a servant to Otto to beg hiin to see her once more. Her 
 messenger returned to her in a few moments, bringing her a 
 sealed envelope. Was it an answer? The canoness hastily 
 tore it open ; it was filled with bank-notes ; there was in it not 
 a line nor a word from him. She would have wept and ciied, 
 bat her voice failed her. She would have gone up to Otto's 
 door, but her trembling knees refused her their support. In 
 as few words as possible she directed her astonished maid to 
 pack up her few belongings in her trunks, and stood by while 
 it was done, gazing round with a dull, vacant expression upon 
 the walls she had seen built and of which she was now taking 
 so sad an eternal farewell. 
 
 Beatrice, meanwhile, entirely recovered from her fright, 
 greeted the dawning of the next day with delight. It would 
 bring Otto, and then all would be well. But hour after hour 
 passed on leaden wings, and he whom she so longed for did not 
 come. 
 
 Over the lordly old mansion brooded the shadow of coming 
 misfortune. The servants moved noiselessly about the halls 
 and the long corridors. Low whisperings were heard among 
 them, quickly silenced at the approach of one of their mis- 
 tresses. Any negligence passed unreproved by the baroness. 
 No one spoke a loud word ; it was as if there had just been 
 a death in the house. 
 
 At last, towards noon, a letter arrived from Ermsdal. Bea- 
 trice opened it hurriedly — what could have prevented Otto 
 from coming himself? As she read, the blood rushed to her 
 clieek, only to retreat the next moment and give place to a 
 death-like pallor. She could not control her voice to speak, 
 but silently handed the note to her mother. 
 
 It was, in truth, a most extraordinary letter. There was 
 no si":n in its clear characters of the tremor convulsing the
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 219 
 
 writer's frame as he penned it ; no hint in its cahn sen- 
 tences of the torture racking tlie brain that had produced 
 them. Otto briefly and decisively announced that he found 
 himself compelled to resign all pretensions to the hand of the 
 young baroness, for reasons which he begged to be spared 
 from stating. This was all; there was no word of explana- 
 tion, regret, or excuse. Frau von Arning sat for one minute 
 speechless at this unexpected blow, an J then all her old hatred 
 of Otto, suddenly called back to life, found vent in a stream of 
 angry eloquence. Her estimate of his character had been cor- 
 rect, then. Otto von Arning was only an unprincipled schemer, 
 with whom no means that might aid in the attainment of his 
 avaricious aims were either too base or too sacred. Murder and 
 matrimony were alike in his eyes if by either he might become 
 master of Buchdorf. His end could now be attained far more 
 easily than by marriage with a portionless girl. Of course so 
 disadvantageous a connection must be instantly dissolved. 
 
 Beatrice had spoken no word since first opening her letter. 
 Her mother's angry outbreak was met on her part only by a 
 look of terrified surprise in her large eyes. She turned away 
 silently and went to her own room. The window was open ; 
 she went to it mechanically and gazed up into the masses of 
 snow-clouds that veiled the heavens. An icy breeze whistled 
 through the bare boughs of the lindens, and toyed with the 
 curls upon her forehead ; she did not feci it. Her heart 
 seemed dead to pain, anger, or reproach. 
 
 She herself wondered at her perfect calm and her entire 
 capacity for lucid reflection. Some chord within her heart 
 seemed to have snapped asunder, never again to vibrate with 
 either joy or sorrow. 
 
 Thus she stood, immovable, indiff"ercnt, for hours. She had 
 lost the measure of time, for what could the future bring her 
 or take from her ? Mechanically she raised her hand to her 
 forehead as if it pained her.
 
 220 A FA MIL V FEUD. 
 
 " I wish I had perished on tlie moor yesterday," she said, 
 in a whisper, and then she shuddered. Those were Elsbeth's 
 very words. Did that incomprehensible being know that 
 Otto was about to resign her? Did she know anything of 
 liis motives? Beatrice in vain attempted to divine them. 
 Had Aunt Bernhardiue's influence effected this separation, or 
 did Otto love another? The change in her circumstances also 
 occurred to her ; but she banished the thought instantly. It 
 was impossible that he could have broken with her for such a 
 cause. 
 
 " I see, I see," she said to herself, " that so insignificant a 
 girl as I could never really gain his love ; but why, oh, why 
 did he play so cruel a game with my heart ?" 
 
 Her face burned as she thought of her attempt to go to 
 Ermsdal the day before. What if she had succeeded in reach- 
 ing the house of the man whose heart was already cold towards 
 her? To-day she was grateful to the brown elf who had 
 prevented the execution of her scheme. 
 
 Towards evening Beatrice saw Herr von Tannen drive up 
 the avenue, and a gleam of joy irradiated her pale features. 
 He was her mother's friend and Otto's ; his judgment would, 
 unlike her mother's, be just and impartial. 
 
 " I will trust what he says," she thought, as she slowly 
 descended the stairs to the library. 
 
 The kindly old man had learned already of the rupture of 
 the engagement, and was much agitated by the intelligence. 
 He had been to Ermsdal in the morning to apprise Otto of the 
 state of affairs at Buchdorf ; but for the first time in his life 
 Otto had refused to see him. Aunt Bernhardine, however, 
 pale as death, and with every sign of agitation, had rushed 
 past him in the hall. She was in bonnet and shawl, and fol- 
 lowed by a stout maid-servant laden with boxes and packages. 
 
 " He is mad !" she had called out to the baron, wringing 
 her hands. " He has gone stark mad ! Broken with his
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 221 
 
 betrothed, with me, with you. repulsing all who care for him ! 
 Oh, how will it all end?" 
 
 Herr von Tannen was deeply hurt by Otto's refusal to see 
 him, and in his agitation he forgot all his usual kindliness, and 
 could not refrain from agreeing with the baroness that Otto 
 could have been led to close his door upon his oldest and most 
 faithful friend only from a feeling of shame for his dishonour- 
 ible treatment of his betrothed in her changed circumstances. 
 For the first time the old baron and Theresa agreed in their 
 estimate of Otto's conduct. 
 
 The day had brought another unpleasant surprise to The- 
 resa. Simultaneously with Otto's letter to Beatrice, Frau 
 von Arning had received the announcement of Herr von 
 Lindau's betrothal. 
 
 Beatrice's interference in his quarrel with Baron von Arning, 
 and her interception of his letter, had wounded the young man's 
 pride excessively, and had deprived the " sun of his existence" 
 of all power of attraction. Arrived in the capital, he soon be- 
 came part of another solar system, — that is, he gave his fiery 
 heart into the keeping of a beautiful young heiress, the belle 
 of the first ball of the season. His homage was accepted, and 
 his mamma gave her cordial approval of his choice, since the 
 young lady was one of her special favourites. Frau von Lin- 
 dau, however, exacted from her hot-headed son a promise to 
 be immediately reconciled to the man whom he had chosen to 
 consider his foe. She herself indeed, without Emil's knowl- 
 edge, wrote a highly flattering epistle to Otto, which the latter 
 in his utter despair tossed unread into the fire. 
 
 Emil's letter to Frau von Arning, in addition to the an- 
 nouncement of the happy event, contained a request for her 
 friendly oifices as peacemaker between the writer and her 
 daughter's lover. 
 
 At any other time Frau von Arning would gladly have 
 congratulated her young friend upon his happy prospects, but 
 
 10*
 
 222 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 on this wretclu'd morning his letter seemed an insult specially 
 directed to her ; there was not a line of it that did not provoke 
 her indignation. It vexed her that Lindau could so quickly 
 replace her child in his aifection ; it vexed her that he should 
 proclaim his happiness just when she was more wretched than 
 ever in her life before; and it vexed her beyond all that this 
 beirothfil should nip in the bud the schemes which her in- 
 ventiv brain had already begun to devise. 
 
 Thirf subject was, only lightly of course, touched upon in 
 the conversation between Theresa and her old friend. Beatrice 
 stood by, listening to her mother's emphatic expressions with- 
 out uttering a syllable. But when the baron was about to take 
 his departure, observing by way of consolation that " Heaven, 
 after all, orders everything for the best, and Beatrice's deliver- 
 ance from such a man as Arning now seems to be is cheaply 
 purchased by the loss of her property," Friiulein von Arning 
 followed him out on the terrace to the carriage door. 
 
 " Godpapa Tannen," she said, gravely, her eyes fixed upon 
 his face with intense earnestness, " tell me, upon your con- 
 science, do you believe it possible that Herr von Arning rejects 
 me simply because I am not the heiress he thought me ?" 
 
 The solemnity of this appeal rather embarrassed her old 
 friend. Nevertheless, true to the conviction urged upon him 
 by his indignation at Otto's behaviour, he replied, " My poor 
 child, you know yourself how highly I always valued Arning, 
 and God forbid I should do him injustice ! But, painful as it 
 is to me, I cannot see any other motive for his conduct. Do 
 not take it so to heart, my dear girl ! You are innocent of all 
 the wretchedness of your unftrtunate family, and I am firmly 
 convinced that you will have ample compensation in the end 
 for these trials you are now undergoing." 
 
 With no reply except a slight inclination of the head, Bea- 
 trice withdrew. " They all believe him guilty," she whispered 
 to herself. " I a'one cannot think him so, although the hap-
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 223 
 
 piness of my life has gone, never to return, in spite of what 
 my godfather says. I could not endure being forced to despise 
 him. Not that, not that ; it would break my heart." 
 
 With such thoughts filling her mind, the girl re-entered the 
 library. The caudles had not yet been lighted ; the large room 
 was dark and silent except for a bright fire on the hearth that 
 ciackled merrily and threw a broad glare of crimson light 
 upon the portrait of the old Freiherr on the opposite wall, 
 lending life to the features and foi"m as it stood out amid the 
 surrounding gloom. ^ 
 
 Beatrice paused, startled. During the reading of her father's 
 last will she had kept her eyes riveted upon this portrait, and 
 now when his kiud!y face suddenly shone out upon her thus, 
 those moments recurred as if by magic in her memory. It 
 was as if his lips uttered the words, " Learn to know your 
 cousin Otto, and I am convinced you will esteem him." 
 
 Did she know him ? Had she even an idea of the reasons 
 for his conduct ? No. Otto was not of those who display 
 the better qualities of their nature, as a niercliant does his 
 wares, to catch the passing regard of men ; she had scarcely 
 had a glimpse of his true inner life. What cared she for 
 any one's opinion, even that of Herr von Tannen, upon this 
 matter? Otto himself was the only human being who could 
 tell her why he acted thus and not otherwise. 
 
 Should she demand an explanation from him ? At first 
 she recoiled from the thought, but by degrees it won a firm 
 footing in her heart. She wanted some key to the cause of 
 all this unhappiness. There should be no fresh discord in her 
 i'amily from want of frankness and confidence. 
 
 " No, father," she said aloud, involuntarily raising her 
 clasped hands towards the portrait, " the old curse shall not 
 be transmitted. One frank, l.onest word shall remove it 
 forever." 
 
 With throbbing pulses and breatli coming (juick and short,
 
 224 A FAMTLV FEUD. 
 
 she reached lier own room and sat down to wi-ite. For one 
 moment she hesitated in genuine womanly confusion at the 
 idea of what Otto would think of the step she was about to 
 take. But her whole training and education had been such 
 as to develop strongly her individuality, and she had a large- 
 ness of nature that prompted her to pursue undeviatingly a 
 course she judged to be right, heedless of the opinion of the 
 world. Her hesitation passed away in a moment; her pen 
 flew over the paper as she wrote : 
 
 " I must speak with you, and can easily understand that 
 after what has happened you can scarcely desire to cross the 
 threshold of our home. Still less can I visit you in yours. 
 Therefore, I pray you to be to-morrow at ten o'clock beneath 
 the King's Oak in the Repach forest, where you will meet me. 
 
 " Beatrice von Arning." 
 
 Without a moment's delay she hurried down the stairs and 
 slipped the letter hastily into the post-bag in the hall, for she 
 was afraid lest if she waited longer her resolution would fail 
 her. In half an hour the post-bag was carried to town by 
 the post-boy, and the next morning his lost love's letter was 
 in Otto's hands. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 It snowed in the night, but towards morning a brisk wind 
 sprang up and drove away the clouds, so that a bright blue 
 winter sky bent above the whitened ground. Tlie moor was 
 one vast shining waste, and on its borders the King's Oak, with 
 all its burden of a hundred winters, stretched giant anns above 
 the low underbrush about its feet. It stood like a boundary-
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 225 
 
 mark between the estates of the relatives at feud, its light, 
 snow-clad side turned towards Buchdorf, its dark side towards 
 Ernisdal. The snow had drifted high about its knees, and the 
 path running beside it into the Repach forest looked like a fine 
 vein in delicate white marble. A wintry silence reigned around. 
 There was no sound of woodland bird, no hum of bees upon the 
 moorland, and, noiseless as the landscape of which she seemed 
 a part, Brown Elsie was gliding along the path towards Buch- 
 dorf. Her feet sank in the snow at every step, and she hid her 
 shivering hands in the old green shawl that was tightly wrapped 
 about her shoulders. 
 
 Her friend Warne had dispatched her to Buchdorf to see if 
 matters there had taken the turn he desired. There was an 
 unmistakable expression of sullen discontent in her large black 
 eyes as she stole along looking furtively about her. Suddenly 
 a faint rustling struck her ear ; she stopped and listened ; al- 
 though the snow deadened every sound, her practised sense 
 detected the approach of a man, and to spy upon the actions 
 of others had long been both her business and her amusement. 
 She strained ears and eyes, and became aware of Otto von 
 Arning in the distance, advancing on the same path with her- 
 self, walking slowly, his gun on his shoulder, and evidently 
 buried in thought. 
 
 A stream was near at hand ; she slipped beneath the small 
 bridge that crossed it and hid herself among the rushes and 
 leafless bushes. The Frciherr came nearer ; it did not escape 
 her keen eye thaf the last two days had wrought a wonderful 
 change in his appearance. True, his face had always been 
 grave, but never before had it worn so utterly hopeless an ex- 
 pression. At the sight Elsbeth felt anger rather than sorrow. 
 " It is his own fault," she thought, sullenly ; " why did he 
 love the silly doll ?" 
 
 Arning had now reached the King's Oak ; to tlie spy's sur- 
 prise he went no farther, but took out his watch, cast a glance
 
 22G A FA MIL r FEUD. 
 
 around the wide plain of snow, and then stood leaning against 
 the trunk of the tree, with his eyes steadfastly bent upon the 
 ground, as if to shut out from his gaze what the next few 
 minutes were sure to bring forth. 
 
 " He expects some one," Elsbeth thought, wonderingly. 
 " Who can it be ?" 
 
 She was not to remain long in doubt. From the opposite 
 direction came Beatrice von Arning, carefully wrapped in furs. 
 She walked on quickly without stop or stay, like one who gives 
 herself no time to repent of some resolve about to be carried out. 
 
 The keen morning air had crimsoned her cheeks, there were 
 no traces of tears in her eyes, her lovely face was set in an ex- 
 pression of firm determination. 
 
 At her approach the Freiherr awoke from his brooding 
 reverie. " Beatrice," he cried, passionately, making as if to 
 hasten towards her ; but his lifted arm fell by his side. The 
 lovelier and more gracious his love appeared to him, the deeper 
 and more oppressive became his sense of his own unworthiness. 
 Mute, motionless, with downcast eyes he awaited her. 
 
 Elsbeth half rose from her crouching posture, and strained 
 every nerve to the utmost that she might lose no word of what 
 was said. 
 
 " You are surprised. Herr von Arning," Beatrice began, with 
 forced firumess, " that after all that has occurred I should 
 ask to meet you here," and she glanced timidly around the 
 snowy plain, " and perhaps you have judged my conduct with 
 severity. I might have written what I have to say. but letters 
 are very unsatisfactory and leave so much room for ambiguity 
 that I thought it best to learn what I wished to know from 
 your own lips, and if possible on this spot, where," she added, 
 with a deep blush, " I first felt confidence in a man whom 
 until then I had regarded as my implacable enemy." 
 
 Ilcr voice had grown low and somewhat uncertain ; there 
 was a perceptible quiver in it as she went on :
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 227 
 
 " When my father's last will was read, in which he so 
 earnestly admonishes us to learn to know each other, I made 
 a solemn vow in my inmost heart that I would obey his desire. 
 But a curse seems to lie like a spell upon our unfortunate 
 family, and I think nothing can break it, save — absolute frank- 
 ness. Therefore, Herr von Arning, I entreat you in my father's 
 name, — you surely loved him once, — to tell me the reasons, 
 however harsh and humiliating they may be for me, to tell 
 me without reserve the reasons that have moved you to this 
 sudden rupture of our engagement." 
 
 " Anything but that !" Otto exclaimed, as if awaking 
 from some painful dream. " Anything but that ! Be mer- 
 ciful, Beatrice ! Is it not enough that you are lost to me 
 forever? Must I also know and see how much you despise 
 me?" 
 
 This passionate outburst amazed the young girl extremely, 
 while at the same time it awakened within her a sensation 
 that was unspeakably consoling. He did not, then, regard her 
 with indifference. She replied, with greater assurance, " I 
 think I am entitled to a knowledge of your reasons for so un- 
 expected and harsh a dissolution of the tie between us ; and 
 yet I would resign my right to an explanation which evidently 
 would cause you great pain, were it not that I do not demand 
 it for my own sake alone, but for the sake of the honour of 
 oui family, and for your sake, Herr von Arning. Do you 
 know what motives are ascribed to you ? You must explain 
 the reason for your conduct if you would save your honour 
 from soil." 
 
 Otto had grown as white as the snow at his feet. Had 
 Elsbeth already betrayed his secret ? He gazed speechless in 
 a kind of horror at Beatrice. 
 
 She too hesitated ; the words would not come at her com- 
 mand. Still it must be done. " Answer me candidly, Herr 
 von Arning," she went on by a supreme elfort. " Do you
 
 228 ^ FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 know nothing of the change in our circumstances with wliich 
 half tlie province is ringing?" 
 
 "So help me heaven, no!" Otto cried, in amazement. "I 
 have not crossed the threshold of my room for two days," 
 he added, in a low tone. 
 
 " Baron von Tannen went to you to tell you all that had 
 happened," Beatrice explained, " but you would not see him. 
 To be brief, my mother can no longer retain Buchdorf. 
 Warne has robbed her and left her involved in the hands of 
 usurers. Baron von Tannen says that our floating capital is 
 far from sufiicient to pay the money due them, and the estate 
 has been so impoverished by Warne's neglect that it is not 
 worth half its former value. So there is no resource left us 
 except to sell it." She bit her lip and paused, for she would 
 not for the world shed a tear, and it seemed as if all the tears 
 which she had withheld during the agitation of the last two 
 days were determined to burst forth at this moment. 
 
 In listening to her distressing tale. Otto utterly forgot for 
 the moment why he had come hither. " Sell Buchdorf!" he 
 exclaimed, with all his old energy. " No, never ! I will go 
 back with you immediately, and investigate affairs on the spot. 
 Frau von Arning knows nothing of business, and Tannen is 
 easily outwitted in money-matters. Of course the scoundrels 
 have reckoned upon that, and think to gain by sudden impor- 
 tunity what they could never obtain legally. I know Buch- 
 dorf and its true value. It has been badly managed. Warne 
 was always a scoundrel in every respect. But it can still 
 easily sustain an immense debt. I am convinced that it can 
 be extricated from these present embarrassments at a small 
 sacrifice, so soon as " 
 
 The young baroness interrupted him with a deprecatory 
 gesture. " Excuse me, Herr von Arning," she said, with a 
 contraction of her delicate brows, " I did not come hither to 
 complain, still less to entreat your aid. I informed you of
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 229 
 
 our present embarrassments solely because foolish reports coq- 
 uectod them with the breaking of our engagement." 
 
 Otto had relapsed into his former hopeless attitude. " I 
 understand," he replied, sadly. " And you, Beatrice, do you 
 believe those reports ?" 
 
 Something like a smile flitted across the girl's grave face. 
 " Should I be here if I did ?" she asked, gently. " No, 
 neither money nor estate has part in what lies between us." 
 
 Otto hastily seized her hand and pressed it to his lips. 
 " Thanks, Beatrice," he said. " You speak truly. But my 
 guilt is far, far greater " 
 
 " I must know what it is," Beatrice said, firmly. 
 
 Otto turned away. "Impossible!" he groaned. "Oh, 
 Beatrice, you cannot dream of the intense cruelty of such a 
 demand. The disgraceful confession you ask for would be 
 hard enough for me if made to any human being. But to 
 be condemned to read my sentence in your eyes, — not hell 
 itself could inflict a greater torture." 
 
 Beatrice saw that in spite of his refusal the Freiherr was seek- 
 ing words in which to accede to her request. The two seemed 
 to-day to have exchanged characters. She, usually shy and 
 timid, was full of firmness and determination, while he stood 
 before her humbly and submissively. Beatrice was much 
 affected by this change. " Courage, Otto," she whispered 
 softly, almost tenderly, laying her hand lightly upon his arm. 
 
 At last Otto yielded and began a long explanation. lie 
 first described his position as a boy on the estate until his 
 cousin's sudden marriage and the birth of Beatrice entirely 
 changed his prospects. He spoke without looking up— 
 fluently, coldly and clearly, like a judge impartially summing 
 up the evidence for and against the accused, since only thus 
 could he master his agitation. He went on to describe the 
 abduction of the little heiress in all its particulars, even to those 
 with which he had become acquainted within the last two days, 
 
 20
 
 230 A FA MIL V FEUD. 
 
 and without either denying or excusing his own indirect par- 
 ticipation in the crime. He told of how later the lovely 
 child had crept into his heart against his will ; how at last he 
 had loved her passionately without admitting it to himself 
 until finally beneath this very oak his afi'ection for her and 
 its utter hopelessness had been made manifest to him. He 
 had struggled against it with all the force he could muster, 
 and even at the reading of her father's will would never have 
 ventured to seek the hand of one so much younger than he 
 had not her manner in eivinor him Lindau's letter awakened 
 in him the hope that he was not quite indifferent to her. 
 When his cousin's last will enjoined upon him the fulfilment 
 of his own intense desire, he had not been able to resist his 
 passionate impulse to woo her, and although during the short 
 period of their betrothal he had had daily opportunity of learn- 
 ing and knowing that her childlike heart was still ignorant of 
 love, and that only kindly feeling and a filial desire to fulfil a 
 revered father's last wish had induced her to give the decisive 
 assent, yet he had not been able to resign the enchanting 
 dream that one day he might awaken within her some warmer 
 feeling, until Elsbeth's revelations had annihilated his hopes 
 forever. 
 
 Here he suddenly and abruptly concluded. During the 
 whole time he had been speaking he had never lifted his eyes 
 from the ground, and consequently was unaware of the im- 
 pression his confession had made upon his auditor. 
 
 Her first painful surprise at the disappointment her birth had 
 occasioned to Otto was entirely forgotten in the unspeakable 
 rapture of hearing for the first time from his own lips how 
 truly and passionately he loved her. 
 
 When after a pause he broke out with the words, " Oh, end 
 this torture, Beatrice ! Speak my doom, but for the love of 
 mercy be quick !" she replied, with unaffected candour, " Your 
 doom. Otto ? What have I cared for in all that you have
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 231 
 
 said, except that in spite of my unworthiness you really love 
 me?" 
 
 Otto looked up, but not yet could he yield to the rapture 
 that filled him at sight of her beaming glance. " And my 
 unnatural hatred of the innocent child," he murmured, " and 
 the crime, and your sickly childhood, and " 
 
 " And the care," she eagerly interrupted him, " the tender- 
 ness you accorded to the sickly child, bringing it back to life 
 and health without one thought of self. Why do you not 
 speak of that, — proud, haughty man that you are? — not my 
 murderer, but my saviour ; not a bridegroom forced upon me, 
 
 but " and her lovely face glowed to the very temples, yet 
 
 she bravely completed her sentence, " my only love." 
 
 Otto clasped her passionately to the heart that was at last 
 healed of all its misery. 
 
 Elsbeth heard no more ; indeed what followed was whispered 
 in so low a tone and with such frequent interruptions that it 
 was impossible to make out a connected sentence from all that 
 was said. But when Otto with his newly-won love upon his 
 arm passed by the listener on the path to Buchdorf, she heard 
 Beatrice say, " and you must forgive your aunt, Otto, as I 
 do, for her crime was but a proof of her affection for you." 
 
 Elsbeth slowly arose as the lovers passed out of sight, and 
 without looking round her returned to the moorland hut, the 
 interior of which looked to-day more desolate than ever, 
 for beneath the blue-checked curtains of the bed lay old Stiua, 
 cold and dead. A violent coughing-fit had put an end to her 
 wretched existence in the middle of the night ; there had been 
 none to speak a word of consolation or to shed one tear beside 
 her ; her only companion had been her black fiivourite, which 
 lay curled up upon the coverlet, mewing from time to time 
 as if in wonder that the warmth he was wont to share had 
 uepartcd from his mistress's breast.
 
 23? A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 When Elsbcth entered the hut, for the first time in her 
 life the girl was filled with a kind of weariness of existence. 
 Many a one walks the earth beneath a heavy burden without 
 groaning, when suddenly some apparently insignificant occur- 
 rence will call forth wild complaints from him who has endured 
 far worse blows with apparent indiifcrence, as the one last drop 
 will cause the vessel filled to the brim to overflow. Otto's re- 
 union with his love had been this last drop for Elsbeth, 
 
 From her childhood she had scarce known anything saA'e 
 evil at the hands of her fellow-mortals, and as she grew up she 
 had learned to return this evil with interest, but negligently, 
 instinctively, as some species of wild beasts habitually kill three 
 times as much prey as they can devour. The Arning family 
 feud had first inspired her with genuine interest ; her heart had 
 made itself felt in hatred of Beatrice, in love for the Freiherr. 
 She had done all that she could to separate them, yet now 
 when they were more truly united than ever she was not even 
 tempted to be angry. She seemed to herself transformed. 
 Beatrice's words still sounded in her ears, " you must forgive 
 your aunt, as I do." Elsbeth had heard such words before, 
 and had sneered at them as hypocritical, but she could not 
 doubt that these were genuine and true. 
 
 She confessed involuntarily that she who could thus forgive 
 must be vastly better than herself. The tears came into her 
 eyes. She was overcome by a kind of compassion for herself, and 
 for the first time in her life, — alas, too late ! — she cast a glance 
 that was almost tender towards her grandmother, the woman 
 who had ill-treated her as long as her strength would permit, 
 and whose unkindness she had repaid in kind. She was filled 
 with something like remorse. She seemed to see in the image 
 of the dead a picture of her own future. Thus homeless and 
 restless she should roam through the world, thus lonely live, 
 and thus forsaken and unwept die. 
 
 " Poor grandmother," she muttered, " you spoke truth when
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 233 
 
 you said that there were laws for the rich and happy different 
 from those which we must obey. It is not hard to be good 
 when every one is good to us," she continued, lifting her head 
 with a kind of defiance in her air. " If I had been treated 
 kindly, or if any human being had loved me, I might have been 
 something better than I am; but now it is too late !" 
 
 She started at her own words. "Too late !" she repeated. 
 " I am but twenty years old ! No, it is not too late. I will 
 go to America, where no one knows me. Men are all equal 
 there, and rich ; they will be kind to me." 
 
 She hurriedly removed the stone from the hearth, be- 
 neath which lay old Stina's hoardings and the money she had 
 herself received from Otto. 
 
 The richest peasant girl in Ermsdal could not lay claim to 
 as wealthy a dowry as this ragged beggar-maid held in her 
 little brown hands. Yet spite of her riches no peasant would 
 have dreamed of taking to his home as a bride the outcast 
 grandchild of old Stina, nor did Elsbeth herself covet any 
 Buch fate. 
 
 She had scarcely finished counting her store and hiding it 
 away in the folds of her old wrap, when Warne entered the 
 hut, and started in surprise at finding the girl there. 
 
 " What, you here, Elsbeth ? he asked, hastily. " You must 
 have flown, to be back already from Buchdorf." 
 
 " No, I have not flown," she replied, as curtly as ever, " nor 
 have I been to Buchdorf. I learned all I wanted to know on 
 the road thither, but it will hardly be much to your liking. 
 Your Friiulein has made it all up with our master." 
 
 " Death and damnation!" exclaimed the steward. "Either 
 you lie, or you do not know what you are saying !" 
 
 He had been rejoiced that Elsbeth's revelations had sepa- 
 rated the lovers, for he had private doubts as to whether the 
 loss of Buchdorf would alone have sufl&ced to do so. 
 
 '' I see no reason for lying," the girl coolly replied, " and I 
 2U"-
 
 234 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 have eyes and ears that usually know what they arc seeing and 
 hearing. They made it all up beneath the King's Oak. I was 
 hidden under the bridge, and heard every word. Take oiy 
 advice, Ilerr Warne, and pack up your trunk, the sooner the 
 better, for our master has gone to Buchdorf to look into your 
 books. And although that old fool Tannen and the conceited 
 Frau Baroness have looked in vain for what will tie a rope 
 about your neck, Baron von Arning will be sure to do it. 
 Your ruin in this world is as sure as your damnation in the next, 
 my good friend." 
 
 Warne did, in truth, seem entirely overwhelmed by the 
 girl's revelation. He stood motionless, his eyes fixed upon 
 the ground, his face ashy pale, and made no reply to Elsbeth's 
 advicj. 
 
 The girl watched him narrowly; at last she approached him 
 and laid her hand familiarly upon his arm. " I have stood 
 by you honestly, Warne,"' she said, with unwonted gentleness. 
 " Be kind to me now, and do not leave me behind when you 
 cross the sea to that rich and happy America." 
 
 The man turned upon her in a fury. " Oh, I am to take 
 you with me!" he sneered. "Are you mad? How do you 
 know that I am going to America ? And how dare you tell 
 me to my face that an examination of my books can do me 
 any harm ?" 
 
 Her momentary gentleness had nowise weakened Elsbeth's 
 penetration. She now folded her arms, and, standing opposite 
 the steward, laughed in her old provoking manner. 
 
 " Softly, softly, my fine fellow. Do you ask how I dare ? 
 Look there. Behind those curtains where my grandmother 
 now lies dead, I have passed many an interesting moment while 
 she was dealing with Messrs. Aaron, Levi, and Katzenberg, 
 and I chanced to be there also when you came to arrange your 
 little surprise for the haughty Frau Baroness. In addition, I 
 saw the use to which you put your blazing fire the night before
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 235 
 
 you left Buchdorf, — it is a shame the shutters in that old house 
 will not close tightly. The ashes you made lie buried beneath 
 the three lindens at Repach. What do you say to my paying 
 
 a visit to the authorities at M and volunteering a little 
 
 information? Could I procure you board and lodging at the 
 public expense ? Aye or no ?" 
 
 " Viper !" the steward ground out between his teeth, stamp- 
 ing his foot in unavailing anger. 
 
 " What could lead you to imagine," the girl continued with 
 quiet contempt, " that I would have dealings with men of your 
 stamp without the reins to guide them well gathered up into 
 my hands ? You see it would hardly be prudent to leave me 
 behind you. Besides," she said, with a haughty toss of her 
 head, " I do not ask any alms of you. I am rich, richer than 
 you think. My grandmother has left me gold enough." 
 
 At this mention of her possessions there was a dull glimmer 
 in the steward's eyes ; he bitterly regretted that his anger at 
 the annihilation of all his schemes should have so startled him 
 out of his smooth amiability of deportment, and tried to atone 
 for his harsh words. 
 
 " It is not the expense that I think of, you foolish girl," 
 he said, with an air of dignified magnanimity. " I would 
 willingly have offered you a place in the vessel if I had sup- 
 posed you were in earnest about going. I now see that you 
 are so, and in fdct you are right. And I had better go — you 
 are right there too. Yes, we will go together. I will accord 
 you ray protection. Be quick then, child, and get ready — we 
 have no time to lose." 
 
 Elsbeth laughed scornfully. " That is as it should be," she 
 said with a nod. " I like you thus. You are quite clever 
 enough to know that it is better to have Brown Elsie for a friend 
 than an enemy. Speak good honest German to nie always. 
 I never know what you would be at with your fine words." 
 
 She then ste]>pcd to the bedside and put into her grand-
 
 236 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 mother's cold bund some pieces of gold, — enough to ensure 
 the old woman a decent burial. Then she untied the goat, 
 and stroking the old black cat, took down from the chimney 
 the flitch of bacon and left it on the ground for the poor 
 animal's support. 
 
 After attending to all this, Elsbeth wrapped herself in her 
 grandmother's old striped shawl, and, accompanied by the 
 steward, departed from the scene of her joyless childhood. 
 
 The sun shone brightly, and the snow crackled beneath the 
 feet of the silent pair. As they reached the forest, Elsbeth 
 turned for one long, last look over her beloved moor. Alas ! 
 she did not dream that she was bidding farewell to what would 
 hereafter seem to her a very Paradise. True, she had here 
 suffered enough of hunger and pain, but what was it all in 
 comparison with the wretched future that awaited her on the 
 other side of the world, in the clutches of so unprincipled a 
 wretch as Warne ! 
 
 Otto had been perfectly right in surmising that the baroness's 
 entire inexperience and her isolated position had emboldened 
 the three usurers to act as they had done. The complication 
 in her affairs was disentangled with ease, as soon as his energy 
 and his credit were brought into play in her behalf, and his 
 clear head detected at a glance several discrepancies in Warne's 
 books, apparently insignificant, which were quite sufficient to 
 enable him to institute legal proceedings against the faithless 
 steward. 
 
 But all efforts made by the police throughout the province 
 were fruitless to produce the criminal ; he had disappeared. 
 
 An emigrant returning to Buchdorf several years afterwards 
 reported that he had seen him in the California mines ; but 
 this was the last trace of him ever discovered. Nothing was 
 ever afterwards heard of either himself or Brown Elsie in 
 their old home.
 
 A FAMILY FEUD. 237 
 
 Some peasant girls who secretly visited the moorland hut 
 to ask counsel of Mother Stina found her corpse as Elsbcth 
 had left it, and thanks to the money left by her grandchild 
 the poor old creature received decent burial. 
 
 No one of the superstitious country-fulk ventured to take 
 possession of the dwelling or of the scanty furniture it con- 
 tained, and thus the moorland hut remained for a long time 
 unchanged both in interior and exterior, unvisited by any 
 human being. 
 
 The black cat alone glided continually in and out of the 
 open door, each day becoming wilder and thinner, vainly 
 seeking warmth on the cold hearth, until he was found one 
 morning frozen dead beneath the stunted birch where he had 
 never omitted each evening to await his mistress's return. 
 
 After matters were once more in a prosperous way at Buch- 
 dorf, Baron Otto had the old hut pulled down, and turned 
 his energies towards the improvement of the marshy waste, 
 that the moor which had played so unedifying a part in the 
 family history of the Von Arnings might be a source of bless- 
 ing to future generations. 
 
 One year, after their happy reunion. Otto brought home his 
 bride, but not to the house that had impressed her so un- 
 pleasantly. In -its stead there was a charming villa on the 
 borders of the forest, now transformed into a picturesque park, 
 and the doors of the new home were as hospitably open as 
 the old tower had formerly been sternly closed to all the 
 country round. Theresa delights to arrange there all kinds 
 of festivities and social entertainments. She is enthusias- 
 tically fond of her son-in-law, and has gained much in power 
 of attraction since the humiliation to which her misplaced 
 confidence brought her has lessened her proud self-reliance. 
 
 Beatrice will always be the petted child we first knew 
 her. The Freiherr, still grave and reserved to others, fairly 
 idolizes her, and yields to her every wish. It was due to her
 
 238 A FAMILY FEUD. 
 
 influence that he sought out the canoness, who had sullenly 
 withdrawn to a small provincial town. But it was too late. 
 Otto was only just in time to assure her of his forgiveness, 
 and to close her weary eyes. 
 
 The entire neighbourhood rejoiced at the happy termination 
 of the Von Arniug family feud, but no one was made so 
 thoroughly happy by it as old Herr von Tannen. 
 
 His " child of gold," as he was wont to call Beatrice, rose 
 even still higher in his estimation, and he is never weary of 
 telling to all who will listen how she succeeded where he had 
 striven for years in vain. " And it was quite natural that it 
 should be so," he always adds ; " we outsiders can do nothing 
 in family quarrels, even although we speak, as my poor friend 
 did, from the grave. No, the only magic wand that can re- 
 unite a family at feud is entire confidence and thorough 
 frankness on the part of its individual members." 
 
 THE END.
 
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