A Hero of the Pen

"You seem to forget, Miss Forest, that even a lady's privileges have their limit," he said. "If the social circle in which you move, allows you so free an expression of your opinions, I beg leave to remind you that I do not belong to that circle, and will not tolerate direct insults. I should have answered a man otherwise. As for you, I can only assure you that it will henceforth be my especial care that our paths do not again cross."

And with a bow just as cold and distant, just as haughty as Miss Forest herself had at her command for persons not agreeable to her, he turned away and vanished behind the wall.

Jane remained standing there motionless, in a sort of bewilderment, which gradually yielded to the consciousness of what this man had presumed to say to her. He had mortified, chided, repulsed her! Her, Jane Forest! This pitiable scholar, upon whom until this hour she had looked with sympathetic contempt! The contempt indeed was over, but who could have dreamed that this man, so timid, so helpless in every-day life, could in a moment, when the conventional barriers fell, become so unmasked! In the midst of her resentment, Jane experienced something like a deep satisfaction, that he to her and to her alone, had shown himself in this light; but that did not lessen her exasperation, neither did the consciousness that she had driven him to extremities, and that the rebuke was just, in the least console her.

In one thing at least this German professor had succeeded, a success no one had before achieved; he had broken through the icy coldness with which the young lady had thus far met all, and had brought to the surface an ardent glowing passionateless, which rose in arms against him. She hated this man, who had forced upon her the first humiliation; hated him with the whole energy of a proud, spoiled nature, which had deemed itself unapproachable, and now for the first time had found its master. The costly lace of her handkerchief had to atone; it lay torn in pieces on the ground; but she did not care. Neither did she care that the twilight was falling, that she was two hours' distance from B. and must go back on foot; for nothing did she care after this quarrel. With a passionate movement, she lifted her hat from the ground, and scornfully thrust aside with her foot the ivy twigs that came in her way.

"'It will henceforth be my especial care not to cross your path again!' Well, Professor Fernow, you may rely upon it that I shall not cross yours, and so I hope we have parted forever!"

Jane gave her head a toss that indicated her contempt of the whole world in general and Walter Fernow in particular, and then with rapid steps she swept along the path leading down into the valley. There, dense shadows already lay, while thicker and thicker the twilight wove its gray veil around the ruins of the old castle, around the place where two human hearts had come so near, and had parted so far asunder.

CHAPTER V.
Face to Face

A few days later, two gentlemen in elegant travelling dress, were walking from the railway station, up the street leading to Doctor Stephen's house.

"Don't be in such a hurry, Alison!" said the elder, somewhat pettishly; "I cannot keep up with you in this heat, and what will Miss Jane think if she happens to be at the window and sees you coming along at such a break-neck pace?"

The warning, superfluous as it might seem, was quite in place here; Alison moderated his pace as if he had been guilty of some unheard-of crime, and turned the glance with which he had been impatiently scanning the houses, to his companion.

"Meeting you was a great surprise," continued Atkins. "We believed you in London; was it not your plan to go directly from there to Paris?"

"Certainly, but as business called me to the Rhine, and as Miss Forest had been for some weeks in B., I came out of my way so as to pass a few days with her. I was very much surprised at your decision to accompany her to Germany."

"You were surprised because I always derided the country," returned Atkins indifferently. "I came here mostly on Miss Forest's account, she is the only practical thing in this sentimental land; I am nominally Miss Jane's guardian, although she is more than independent in all things; and I did not think it proper for her to cross the ocean alone. And, besides, as I know so many Germans in America, I would not deny myself the satisfaction of admiring them in their own much vaunted fatherland. I hope you thank me for remaining at the side of your betrothed."

"Certainly!" replied Alison in a somewhat chilly tone, "I am only astonished that the requirements of Miss Forest demanded so long an absence on your part."

The old sarcasm again appeared in its full sharpness on Mr. Atkins' face, as he cuttingly replied. "Give yourself no uneasiness, Henry. Your future fortune is in safe hands."

"I did not ask in my own interest," said Alison angrily.

"But in those of Miss Jane, which in a year's time will be yours. Well, do not get angry! It is only natural that you should concern yourself with this matter, and I perhaps owe you some explanation. You know, I suppose, that the deceased Mr. Forest, during the last years of his life, converted most of his property into money. The money is safely deposited, all the other business was settled in two months after his death; the landed property is in good hands; a fortune entrusted to my stewardship would not be placed in jeopardy for the sake of a pleasure tour, Mr. Alison."

In spite of his displeasure, Henry had listened with marked attention and satisfaction, he now knew the most important thing, and quickly changing the subject, he asked:

"And how do you like Germany?"

"I find it tedious enough. It is just what I thought, and the life here in this learned city of B. is perfectly unendurable! I assure you that by staying here Miss Jane makes a sacrifice to her father's wishes. I assure you she is thoroughly disgusted with these formalities and sentimentalities among which she gets so hopelessly entangled, while I take an unceremonious flight away from them all."

"And was it on this account you went to Hamburg?"

"No, I had business there."

"Do you employ your European travels in business transactions," asked Alison gravely.

"Not I; I went in Miss Forest's interests. It was to look after an old debt we have often tried to settle, but in vain."

The young merchant's attention was now fully aroused.

"Is the debt a large one?" he asked, as if incidentally.

"Yes."

"And you hope to secure it?"

"I hope so."

"Then I wish you success," said Alison with animation. "It is always pleasant for a merchant to cancel old debts."

"Do you think so?" asked Atkins maliciously. "It may cost us half a million."

Happily, Alison did not hear these last words, which were spoken only half aloud; for at this moment, his whole attention was directed to the windows of the house before which they halted. Atkins rang the bell and the door was opened by Frederic who was expecting his master. His face grew noticeably long as he saw Mr. Atkins, who, during his stay in B., had not laid claim to the doctor's hospitality, but had lodged at a hotel, daily calling at the house where his ward was staying.

"Is Miss Forest at home?"

"No."

"And Doctor and Mrs. Stephen?"

"They, too, have gone out."

"Are they expected back soon?"

"Every minute."

"Then we shall do better to wait here in the garden than to go back to the hotel," said Atkins. "Frederic, announce our arrival to the family immediately upon their return."

Frederic gazed after the retiring gentleman with open displeasure. "And here is another! This makes the third who has come. These American guests will at last drive us out of house and home. I wish"–His further mutterings were lost in the closing of the door which he had shut with such violence that the window panes rattled.

"What is the matter with the fellow?" asked Alison, as they entered the garden, "he gave us a very singular reception."

Atkins laughed. "A German bear, gigantic, snappish, awkward, into whose wooden head a sort of national antipathy against us seems to have entered. I cannot boast of having seen anything but this bearish manner in him, although to others he is harmless and good natured, even to stupidity."

"Is he a servant out of the house?"

"Not exactly, he is in the employ of a–Ah, Professor Fernow!" exclaimed Atkins suddenly interrupting himself, "I am delighted to see you!"

The professor, who was just returning from the university, and had, as usual, taken the path through the garden, returned the salutation and drew nearer.

"How do you do, Professor Fernow?" asked Atkins patronizingly. "You look ill; that comes from your learning! Will you permit me to introduce you to a countryman of mine? Mr. Alison, Mr. Fernow, professor in the university, and inmate of Doctor Stephen's house."

Countryman! Inmate of the doctor's house! These were two very indifferent, commonplace designations, upon which Atkins had not laid the slightest emphasis, and still they appeared to strike both young men in the same way. Alison's dark glance, with a suddenly awakened suspicion, fixed itself sharply and searchingly upon the professor's face, and Fernow's blue eyes flamed up in painful excitement, as he returned the glance with unwonted spirit. It was as if both in this, the first moment of their meeting, had a presentiment of hostile relations hereafter. Each bowed coldly and haughtily, as if an invisible barrier already lay between them.

CHAPTER VI.
A Strange Presentiment

Atkins, with his wonted vivacity, sought to introduce a conversation, but he did not succeed. For all that was said to him, Alison had a cold, polite assent; and the professor, even more reticent than usual, seized the first opportunity to take refuge in the house. After a few minutes, in his timid, courteous way, he took leave of the elderly American, bowed silently and distantly to his young companion, and left the two alone.

"Who is this Fernow?" asked Alison when the Professor was out of hearing.

"I have already told you. Professor in the university here, a shining light of science, a precious example of a German scholar, who with his investigations, and thousand-year-old rubbish and hieroglyphics, devotes himself to the good of humanity, and meantime withers up into a mummy. A very well conducted, blameless specimen besides, who made himself supremely comic in the role of knight and protector which he assumed towards Miss Jane on the day of our arrival."

Alison, who had been gazing after the professor, now turned suddenly around.

"Towards Miss Forest?" he asked hastily. "But personally not her sole protector? It is to be hoped that you were present."

"Not at all! Our carriage broke, out on a suburban road; it rained in torrents, I had to remain behind with injured postilion, and was glad to consign Jane to the protection of the first gentleman who offered; in this case it was Professor Fernow, who was passing our tragic group, and to whom his learning had at last left sense enough to take the lady entrusted to him safely to B."

"Ah!" said Alison sharply. "And this adventure has naturally led to a more intimate acquaintanceship between the two, who, being inmates of the same house, meet and converse daily?"

For a moment, Atkins gazed at him in astonishment, then burst into a loud laugh.

"Henry, I really believe you are jealous! Jealous of this consumptive professor! Do you know what it means to be at thirty years invested with a professorship in a German university, with its horrible scientific thoroughness?–and he is not yet thirty! It takes a prodigy of learning for such a place! A man who devotes himself body and soul to his books, and knows nothing of the clear light of day. Really, you do the poor professor a cruel wrong if you believe that anything not bound in calf, exists for him; and as Miss Jane does not enjoy that enviable distinction, she unfortunately has no claim to his approval."

Alison paid no attention to this irony. "Does Miss Forest often converse with him?" he asked impatiently.

"Not at all! At least when I am present, they both seem to have lost the gift of speech, so dumbly do they pass each other by. I implore you, Henry, not to insult the taste of your betrothed in this way! Where is your self-esteem? Do you really place yourself on a level with this bookworm?"

Alison's brow began to clear. "You are right, it would be ridiculous. At home I had to enter the list with many wooers of Miss Forest, and there were no despicable rivals among them. But I had no fear at sight of this consumptive professor, as you call him. I had a sort of presentiment that he might become dangerous to me."

"A presentiment!" echoed Atkins with a growl. "For Heaven's sake, Henry, don't begin to have presentiments! This is one of the German sensations. They never really reckon, they have all sorts of presentiments. And you, too, are not going to fall into this nonsense?"

Before Alison could reply, they were interrupted; a young servant girl appeared to announce the arrival of the lady of the house and Miss Forest, and to invite the gentlemen in.

Jane, with her usual self-importance, had kept her engagement secret from her relatives, and the betrothed pair met as strangers.

CHAPTER VII.
Lovers, Yet Strangers

Five months had passed since Alison had seen Jane for the last time, in the elegant reception-room of her father's house, in an elegant toilet; now the tall figure came to meet him in a dark mourning dress, in the centre of the old-fashioned, simply-furnished apartment, which here served as the reception-room. Was it the contrast or the long separation? He had never seen her so beautiful.

"Pardon me, Miss Forest, for coming to visit you on my travels. Mr. Atkins assured me I should meet a kindly reception."

Jane reached him her hand. "A countryman is always welcome." Her glance met his; there was a wordless greeting; the only one between them; otherwise no token, not even the slightest, betrayed that here was a pair of betrothed lovers, who met after a half year's separation. Both had too much control over their features, were too much accustomed to conventional barriers, to betray a relation not yet designed for publicity.

Jane turned to her aunt, and presented "Mr. Alison, a friend of our family?" Frau Stephen bowed; she could not understand the confidence and independence with which her niece received and dismissed strange gentlemen, this girl of twenty years, who, in her opinion, should still take refuge under her aunt's maternal wing, and at the most, only now and then venture a timid remark. Jane, had simply transposed matters, and assigned her aunt the silent rule. This by no means timid old lady had begun to be wholly controlled by the influence of her niece; she now remained passive and overwhelmed by a feeling of her entire inconsequence.

Alison had seated himself opposite the ladies. They spoke of his travels, of England and France, of the Rhine; but Henry's conversational powers were not brilliant. He waited from minute to minute, and with ever increasing impatience, for Atkins to give him an opportunity to be alone with Jane, but Atkins appeared to feel a lively satisfaction in his repressed vexation, and opened out the conversation to seemingly endless limits. The young American was not the man to be trifled with in this way; as no one came to his aid, he himself seized the helm, and simply requested Miss Forest to allow him to give over to her the letters and tidings from home which were designed for her alone.

Jane arose, and with a hasty apology to her aunt, conducted the young gentleman into the sitting-room adjoining the reception-parlor, leaving Mr. Atkins to console the old lady for this new American freedom. Scarce had the door closed behind them, when Alison stepped up to her, and with a powerfully repressed, but still impassioned gesture, took her hand in his.

"Pardon me Jane, for resorting to this awkward device! I could bear the suspense no longer."

He held closely the beautiful, cold hand which as before lay unresisting in his, but did not return its pressure.

"You should have chosen some less transparent device, Henry! Mr. Atkins would, sooner or later, have found an excuse for leaving us alone. It would of necessity have occurred to my aunt that we would prefer to speak of home matters by ourselves."

This cool reply somewhat restrained Alison's ardor. "You seem very much to fear lest Doctor Stephen may gain some knowledge of our mutual relations."

"I certainly hope that he will not."

"And still it cannot be avoided."

"I believe that remains alone with us, and so much the more so as your stay in B. is to be limited to a few days."

"Certainly! It does not appear that I have especial reasons for lengthening my visit."

Jane felt the thrust, and thought best to waive a subject that threatened to be dangerous.

"You will go to Paris? They are speaking of a possible war with France."

Alison shrugged his shoulders. "I do not believe in such a possibility, but should it come to that, I should naturally return to be at your side and conduct you home, if the French army overflowed the Rhine country and Germany."

"Do you really think that would happen?"

"Yes! Have you any other idea?"

Jane threw back her head with a defiant gesture. "And yet, I think we should know how to defend our Rhine!"

"We? Our Rhine?" repeated Alison sharply. "I thought, Miss Forest, that hitherto it had been your pride and your glory to call yourself a daughter of that country to which you belong in all things–save the first brief days of your infancy."

Jane bit her lips so passionately, that a slight drop of blood came from them. Who bade these unwary lips even here repeat a reminiscence that would not vanish from her memory? 'We? Our Rhine?' These were indeed not her own words, and the remembrance of that moment when she had heard them so glowing, so inspired, from another's mouth, involuntarily sent a deep flush to her face. She turned hastily away, and bent over the flowers standing in the window.

Alison regarded her silently, but, intently and persistently. "It seems that you have already imbibed German sympathies," he said at last.

"I?" With a half-angry movement, Jane turned to him. "You err, Henry! I feel myself, even here circumscribed, exasperated. My stay here is a daily and hourly sacrifice! It is scarcely endurable."

In spite of her self-control, there was a peculiar emotion in her voice, and this did not escape Alison, who had always seen her so cold; but he interpreted it falsely; his eyes suddenly lighted up with a deep, inward satisfaction; he stepped close to her and again took her hand.

"Well then, Jane, it lies in your power to shorten this sacrificial period. Give me now the right you were to confer upon me after a year's delay, and you fulfil my highest wish. In a few weeks the necessary formalities might be arranged, and we could pursue together our continental travels; or, if you wished, I would at once take you back to America."

"No, Henry, no! that is impossible!"

Alison let her hand fall, and morosely stepped back, "Impossible!" repeated he cuttingly.

"And why so?"

Jane might well feel that her almost violent refusal rendered an explanation necessary.

"I am still in mourning for my father!" she said gently, "and in this entire matter I simply follow his arrangements and his wishes."

"It was your wish, Jane, not Mr. Forest's, I understood, that, in the presence of a dying father, you did not wish to be a bride; and it was my own journey which so long deferred the time fixed upon for our union. The one reason exists no longer; and destiny, which after months of separation, has now united us, has done away with the other. If, during your year of mourning, you do not wish to marry, so be it. I will not urge you, but I implore, I demand that you no longer veil our mutual relations in this profound secrecy; that you publicly acknowledge yourself my betrothed, and give me the right to visit you as your accepted suitor in the house of your relatives."