A Noble Name; or, Dönninghausen

It was not addressed, but the Freiherr was as sure that it was destined for Johanna as he was that it was written by Otto. It ran thus:

"You torture me, and misunderstand me. I can bear it no longer. Grant me, I conjure you, one-quarter of an hour's explanation, but not with Aunt Thekla's eyes looking on; they strike me dumb. Will you await me at half past ten in the birchen hut? I will come so soon as I have escorted the Klausenburgs back to K – . Or would you rather it should be to-morrow morning early, between five and six? Tell me, when will you hear what I have to say? My only love, you must hear me."

"'Only love,'" the Freiherr repeated, and his brow clouded. How could Johanna, with her earnest and profound nature, have given this superficial creature the right to address her thus? and why had pride and gratitude not prevented her from bringing a new mésalliance upon Dönninghausen? But what was Dönninghausen to her? She was the child of her mother, and Agnes, proud, pure, unselfish though she was, had outraged family honour, duty, and conscience when beguiled by that scoundrel's whisper of love.

The Freiherr arose and began to pace to and fro. The soft breath of the summer night wafted in through the open window gradually soothed him. He told himself that he must hear what Johanna had to say before he condemned her. It was plain from the note that she was displeased with Otto. Perhaps he persecuted her, in spite of her efforts to prevent it, with an affection which she regarded as unjustifiable and misplaced. At all events, Otto must be brought to reason, and an end put to this fresh nonsense.

Suddenly the Freiherr stood still; his glance was attracted by a letter lying beside the lamp on the table, – the letter that he had received to-day from Johann Leopold, – and the scales seemed to fall from his eyes. "No, there need be no end," he murmured, continuing his walk. "If they love each other it might make all things right!"

Johann Leopold's letter had increased the Freiherr's anxiety with regard to his successor and heir. The strength and improvement which the sick man had hoped for from his travels had not yet resulted from them.

He regretted that the novelty of his daily impressions so exhausted him as to leave little room for enjoyment, adding that he had resigned all hope of ever being able to fill any important position in life, and that he begged his grandfather no longer to cherish any illusions with regard to him. If it really should happen that Johann Leopold resigned the heirship, it must devolve upon Waldemar, since Otto, the next in line of precedence, had proved only too clearly that he was utterly incapable of bearing the responsibility of so large an estate. But would he recognize this fact himself, and join with his grandfather in cutting off the entail? Endless lawsuits, family dissensions, deterioration of the property, might be the result of the change; and, moreover, the Freiherr would thus lay hands upon the right of inheritance, to defend which he had always held to be the sacred duty of the nobility. But here, in Otto's attachment to Johanna, a way presented itself out of all his perplexities. If Otto contracted a mésalliance, by so doing he voluntarily relinquished Dönninghausen, which would devolve of right to Waldemar and Waldemar's children; Johanna would take the position in the family which her grandfather desired for her, and – better than all – if she loved Otto she was the one woman to give him firmness and steadiness of character. The lovely legend of the redeeming power of love, which has beguiled so many a youthful heart, was here a siren song in the ears of an old man, singing his doubts and cares to sleep.

The next morning early the Freiherr sent to Klausenburg for Otto, who made his appearance without delay.

"It is terrible to be persecuted by misfortune as I am," he said to himself, as he went up-stairs. "Every stupidity I commit comes to the old man's ears, and he instantly falls foul of me. And what have I done, after all? I should like to know whether Johann Leopold and Waldemar have not had their escapades too? But everything always goes smoothly and calmly for them, while I am just like that wretched animal – I think it was a goat – which the Phœnicians, or Assyrians, or somebody, loaded with all their sins and drove into the wilderness."

Thus conscious of his martyrdom, he presented himself before his grandfather, who was seated at his study-table awaiting him.

After the first salutations the Freiherr requested him to take a chair beside him. His face was stern, but did not wear the expression of annihilating contempt which Otto had seen upon it more than once.

"This note, which an odd chance has put into my hands, was written by you," the old Herr began, holding out the unlucky scrap of paper. "I should like to know to whom?"

Otto looked down. Could he betray Magelone? Impossible! But it was just as impossible to do as she wished and mention Johanna.

"Pardon me, I cannot tell you," the young man replied.

The Freiherr knitted his brows. "In this matter your discretion is the merest make-believe. The note was written to Johanna, – that is clear. Has she seen it?"

"On my honour, she neither has seen it nor ever would have seen it – "

"Prevarication – forever!" the Freiherr interrupted, impatiently. "Whether she has seen it or not, you wrote it to her, and I ask you what right you have to entreat her for an interview and to call her what you do here?"

The Freiherr handed him the note. Otto, who remembered its contents imperfectly, saw clearly that there was no way to save Magelone except by acting upon his grandfather's unconscious hint; but the falsehood would not come glibly. He looked down mute, while the Freiherr arose and paced to and fro in increasing impatience. Suddenly he paused in front of his grandson. "Is there an understanding between you?" he asked.

"No," Otto replied, in a tone that carried conviction with it.

After a pause his grandfather asked again, "Do you think your affection is reciprocated?"

"I – I do not know," Otto stammered.

"Nonsense! You must know!" the Freiherr roared, now thoroughly indignant. "You're not so over-modest, and when it is a question of your whole future life – or, can it be?" – and his eyes flashed fire from beneath his bushy brows, – "have you dared to trifle with Johanna? In that case, my boy, you will answer it to me. Johanna is my daughter's child, and a Dönninghausen, even although she does not bear the name."

Otto sat as if spell-bound by his grandfather's angry eyes. "I assure you – " he began at last.

"No fine phrases!" the Freiherr interrupted him again, but far more gently. "Prove that you are in earnest. Put an end to misunderstandings, and you shall have my blessing."

Otto started up. He had prepared himself to endure violent reproaches and perhaps temporary banishment from Dönninghausen, but to be obliged to betroth himself – to Johanna! What would his former comrades, what would the Klausenburg sisters, above all, what would Magelone say?

"My dear sir," he stammered, as all this flashed through his brain like lightning, "how is this possible? My affairs – "

"Are certainly not in a condition to make you a very brilliant match," the Freiherr sarcastically completed his sentence. "But Johanna is magnanimous. If she loves you, she will not be calculating. Her maternal inheritance is not large, but it will suffice to make you modestly independent – "

"My dear sir, neither am I calculating," Otto interposed.

The Freiherr laughed contemptuously. "I scarcely need to be told that; but all these are secondary considerations. The point at issue is whether Johanna feels sufficient affection and esteem for you to allow of her intrusting to you her future, and to this question you must ask the answer yourself. You can do it immediately. I have nothing more to say to you."

Otto arose. "The affair is not so easily disposed of as you seem to think," he rejoined, with a forced smile. "I must first make my peace with Johanna – "

"What is the quarrel between you? Yesterday you thought a quarter of an hour enough – " The Freiherr broke off, and added, frowning, "Stay here. I will send for Johanna. I must see myself how matters stand between you. She shall not be sacrificed." He rang the bell, desired the servant to ask Fräulein Johanna to come to him, and then continued to pace the apartment.

Otto went to the window. He was indignant. His cheeks glowed, his pulses throbbed. "Magelone is right," he thought. "My grandfather is infatuated with regard to Johanna. Sacrificed, indeed – to me! And to have to listen and submit, – bind myself for life!" But perhaps it would not come to that. Johanna might refuse him. The actor's daughter refuse a Freiherr von Dönninghausen! He bit his lips to keep from laughing aloud in scorn and anger.

Then he heard the door open, and as involuntarily he looked round, Johanna entered the room. She glanced in some distress from her grandfather to Otto. It was plain that there had been a tempest here.

The Freiherr requested her to sit down, and then walked once or twice to and fro in silence. He suddenly found what had seemed before so simple difficult to put into words. At last his eye fell upon Otto's note on the table, and he gave it to her. "This note," he said, with a frown, "which was destined for you, has fallen into my hands and acquainted me with matters of which I had not the faintest suspicion, – a state of affairs that must be arranged without delay. I hope you will lighten my task for me by perfect frankness. First, read it."

She did so. He saw her astonishment turn to painful embarrassment, and as she dropped the note in her lap he felt sorry for her and wished to help her. "Do not think, my child, that I am angry with you," he said more kindly, taking a seat opposite her. "I only want a frank confession of how matters stand between Otto and yourself, and what you have done to put such nonsense into his head, – meetings at night in the garden when you might talk together all day long. What does it mean? Speak!"

His voice had grown more angry, and his eyes flashed. "Speak! speak!" he repeated, while she struggled for composure, which, however, she attained.

"My dear grandfather," she said, "I assure you that I do not myself understand – "

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XVII

JOHANNA TO LUDWIG

"Dönninghausen, August 22, 1874.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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