The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume II. Lever Charles James
I alone, Nelly, than I burst into tears. I cried for very shame; and if agony could expiate my fault, mine should have done so. What humiliation before my friend could equal that I now felt before my own heart! I thought of all your teachings, dearest Nelly; of the lessons you gave me over and over against this besetting sin of my nature! I thought of our home, where poor Hanserl was treated by us as a friend! I thought of our last parting, and the words you spoke to me in warning against this very pride, ignoble and mean as it is; and, oh! what would I have given to have thrown myself into Adolfs arms, and told him everything! I have never seen him since; he wrote to me a few lines, saying that he should pass through Baden on his way to Frankfort, and offering to carry a letter for me; but not once did he allude to my debt, nor was there the slightest hint of its existence. On this I wrote an acknowledgment of the loan, and a pressing entreaty that he would come and see me; but he pretended one thing and another, affected engagements at the only hours I was free, and at last abruptly sent for my letter just when I was writing it. I had much more to tell you, Nelly, of myself, of the service, and of my daily life here; but my thoughts are now disturbed and scattered; and I feel, too, how your shame for my short-coming will take away interest from what I say. You, Nelly, will have courage to be just: tell him all that I have been weak enough to conceal; let him know what suffering my unworthy shame has cost me; and, above all, that I am not ungrateful. “It seems like a dream all that you tell me of Kate. Is she still in Italy, and where? Would she write to me? I am ashamed to ask the question of herself. They spoke of our brigade being sent to Lombardy; but even there I might be far away from her; and if near, in the very same city, our stations would separate us still more widely. Oh, Nelly! is it worth all the success ever ambition the most successful won, thus to tear up the ties of family, and make brothers and sisters strangers? Would that I were back again with you, and dearest Kate, too! I see no future here; the dull round of daily discipline, teaching nothing but obedience, shuts out speculation and hope! Where are the glorious enterprises, the splendid chances I often dreamed of? My happiest moments now are recalling the past; the long winter evenings beside the hearth, while Hans was reading out to us. There are rumors of great changes in the world of Europe; but to us they are only the thunderings of a distant storm, to break out in what quarter we know not. Oh, Nelly! if it should lead to war! if some glorious struggle were to break in upon this sluggish apathy! “Adolf has sent again for this letter, so I must close it He will not, he says, pass through Baden, but will post this in Munich – so good-bye, dearest sister. Tell poor papa all that you dare to tell of me, and farewell.
“Frank Dalton.
“When you write it must be under cover to the ‘Herr Hauptman von Gauss, 2ten Compagnie, 3 Linien Bataillon, Franz Carl Infanterie.’ Don’t forget this long address, nor to add a line to the captain himself, who is a good-looking fellow, but somewhat conceited.
“I have just heard old Auersberg is to have a command again. I ‘m heartily sorry for it. So much for family influence!”
If the reader’s patience has lasted through this long letter of Frank’s, it was more than Peter Dalton’s did. For what between his ecstasy at Kate’s good fortune, his own rambling speculations on all that should follow from it, and, above all, what from the slurring monotonous tone in which Nelly passed over such portions as she did not wish him to hear, he grew gradually more abstracted and dreamy, and at last fell off into a deep and most happy slumber. Not a syllable did he hear of the old Feld’s reception of Frank; nor did he even awake as little Hans stumped into the room, with a staff in either hand, – aids that, since his accident, he could never dispense with.
“I heard that you had letters, Fräulein,” said he. “Do they bring good tidings?”
“Some would call them so, Hanserl,” said she, with a sigh. “Kate is about to be married.”
Hanserl made no reply, but sat slowly down, and crossed his arms before him.
“The great Russian Prince Midchekoff, of whom you may have heard.”
“I have seen him, Fräulein; he was here in Baden, three years ago.”
“Oh, then, tell me, Hanserl, what is he like? Is he young and frank-looking? Seems he one that should have won a maiden’s heart so suddenly, that – that – ”
“No, not that she could n’t have written to her sister and asked for counsel, Fräulein,” said Hans, continuing her sentence. “The Prince is a cold, austere man, proud to his equals, I believe, but familiar enough to such as me. I remember how he asked me of my life, where I came from, and how I lived. He seemed curious to hear about the train of thoughts suggested by living amid objects of such childish interest, and asked me, ‘If I did not often fancy that this mock world around me was the real one?’ ‘You are right, Herr Prints,’ said I; ‘but, after all, here, at least, we are equals.’ ‘How so?’ said he. ‘That your real world is as great a mockery as mine.’ ‘Thou are right, dwarf,’ said he, thoughtfully, and fell a-musing. He should not have called me dwarf, for men know me as Hans Roëckle, – and this is your sister’s husband!”
“Is he mild and gentle-mannered?” asked Nelly, eagerly.
“The great are always so, so far as I have seen; none but base metal rings loudly, maiden. It is part of their pride to counterfeit humility.”
“And his features, Hans?”
“Like one of those portraits in the gallery at Wurtzburg. One who had passions and a temper for a feudal age, and was condemned to the slavery of our civilization.”
“He is much older than Kate?” asked she again.
“I have seen too few like him even to guess at his age; besides, men of his stamp begin life with old temperaments, and time wears them but little.”
“Oh, Hanserl, this seems not to promise well. Kate’s own nature is frank, generous, and impulsive; how will it consort with the cold traits of his?”
“She marries not for happiness, but for ambition, maiden. They who ascend the mountain-top to look down upon the scene below them, must not expect the sheltering softness of the valley at their feet. The Fräulein Kate is beautiful, and she would have the homage that is paid to beauty. She has chosen her road in life; let us at least hope she knows how to tread it!”
There was a tone of almost sternness in Hanserl’s manner that Nelly well knew boded deep and intense feeling, and she forebore to question him further for some time.
“You will leave this, then, Fräulein?” said he at last “You will quit the humble valley for the great world?”
“I know not, Hanserl, what my father may decide. Kate speaks of our joining her in Russia; but the long Journey in his infirm state, not to speak of other reasons, may prevent this. Shall I tell you of Frank? Here is a long letter from him.” And, almost without waiting for his reply, she read out the greater portion of the epistle.
“I like the old Feld!” cried Hans, enthusiastically. “He would teach the boy submission, and self-reliance, too, – lessons that, however wide apart they seem, go ever hand in hand; an old warrior that has trained his bold nature to habits of obedience in many a year of trial and injustice, unfriended and alone, with nothing but his stout heart and good sword to sustain him. I like that Feld, and would gladly pledge him in a glass of Steinberger!”
“And you shall, my little man,” said Dalton, waking up, and catching the last words of Hanserl’s speech. “The old Count was kind to Frank, and I ‘ll drink his health this night, with all the honors. Read him the letter, Nelly. Show him how old Stephen received the boy. That’s blood for you! – a true Dalton!”
Hanserl stared from father to daughter, and back again, without speaking; while Nelly, blushing deeply, held down her head, without a word.
“His letter to us was dry enough. But what matter for that? He never wrote a line, – maybe, did n’t speak a word of English for upwards of forty years. You can’t expect a man to have the ‘elegant correspondent’ at his fingers’ ends after that space of time. But the heart! – that’s the main point, Hans. The heart is in the right place. Read that bit over again, Nelly; I forget the words he said.”
“Oh,