Only Clärchen. A novel

Chapter I

' Where have you been ? ' said Augusta, running forward to meet Austin and Clare. ' We were just thinking of sending servants to look for you.' ' We have been exploring the glen,' said Austin, ' and have been away longer than we intended. On these occasions, it is difficult to calculate the flight of time.' 'A truly Austin-like excuse. When did you ever possess a reliable watch or use it when you had one ? That is precisely what I told Mamma, and Baron Polonyi assured her that the glen is most tempting for lovers of fine scenery, but she had been asleep and fancied it later than it is, and has been more nervous in consequence. You must come and make a proper apology.' ' I am quite ready,' said Austin, submissively. VOL. II A ' But what is the matter ? ' Augusta went on. ' Now that I can see you better, I discover that you are both pale, and I never saw Clare appear so tired.' ' I have contrived to sprain my wrist, and in doing so to frighten Miss Melville, and I am a little afraid I have allowed her to walk too far.' 'No; you must not blame yourself,' Clare inter posed. 'It was I who ran on first, and if I were tired it would be my own fault, but I am only pleasantly fatigued.

I would not have missed the walk for any consideration. We have seen such a lovely waterfall.' 'The Baron said there was a waterfall, but was it really worth all the trouble ? He told me the path was very steep. Was it there that Austin hurt himself ?' ' No ; I was foolish enough to forget all my dear bought experience, and to imagine that a small shrub growing on a rock could support a well grown man.' 'You always were foolish !' commented Augusta. ' Now, Mamma, you may scold Austin as much as you please, as usual he " forgot the flight of time." ' 'Perhaps Aunt Matilda will spare me a well merited lecture on unpunctuality, as it is late,' said Austin. ' We found your glen so attractive, Baron, that we were led on, and I hope every one will pardon our thoughtlessness.' 'It was indeed thoughtless, Austin,' said Mrs Folliott, plaintively. ' Clare, you ought to re member that you may be wanted,' she added, severely, in an undertone. ' It was I who led Miss Melville into temptation,' said Austin, quickly. ' I discovered the path down the cliff, and persuaded her to accompany me.' 'Down the cliff!' exclaimed Baron Polonyi. ' Then you are both good mountaineers and brave.

That path has not been used for years, and I thought many of the steps were destroyed.' ' They are not in good condition, but Miss Melville seems to have no fear. I have been discovering that she has many of the qualities which make a mountaineer ; a steady head, a light foot, and a capacity for doing what she is told.' ' The last is indeed a great virtue,' said Madame Suvarow, with a tinge of sarcasm. ' I did not know7 that it appealed so forcibly to you, Mr Folliott,' she added, coming nearer that she might see his face. ' Certainly it does, when I have to guide a lady down a cliff,' he returned, with a jarring sense of discord between them. ' Had Miss Melville been too anxious to assert her independence, we should not have descended the Baron's staircase in safety.' ' Though you have not come back quite uninjured,' said Augusta. ' Mamma, Austin has sprained his wrist.' ' I am not surprised to hear of any accident when people do foolish and wrong things,' said Mrs Folliott, looking sternly at Clare. ' I am not badly hurt, and Miss Melville is an excellent doctor,' said Austin. ' She has bandaged my wrist so well that I expect to suffer little in convenience.' ' I am glad she has made herself useful,' Mrs Folliott replied, still severely, and when Baron Polonyi was proposing various remedies and ex pressing his regret that the accident should have happened, she turned to Clare. ' I am surprised at your conduct.

You should not have gone with Austin without letting me know. It was very good-natured of him to take you, and it is very kind of him to make excuses for your folly, but of course this would never have happened if you had stayed at your post as was your duty,' she said harshly, with no trace of that timid hesitation, which made her reproofs futile, when she found fault with Augusta. But she was afraid of her spoilt daughter, while she considered that her niece was poor, dependent, and in her power. Tears rose to Clare's eyes, for her nerves had been shaken, and she had always been treated by her father with such tender consideration, that she was quite unprepared for harshness or injustice. ' I am very sorry if I have vexed you or made you anxious,' she said, with more indignation than contrition of manner. ' But I saw no reason why I should refuse to accompany Mr Folliott when he asked me.

You were asleep, and Augusta was occupied. I was not wanted.' ' You need not attempt to excuse yourself,' said Mrs Folliott, ' how could you tell that Augusta did not wish to visit the glen with her cousin ? ' ' Would it have been part of my duty to suggest to Mr Folliott, that he should wait until Augusta was ready to speak to him ? ' said Clare, with a warmth which had its origin in overstrained nerves rather than in wounded pride.. Mrs Folliott looked surprised, but she was saved from the embarrassment of finding a reply, for Austin turned to ask if she was ready to start. She was only too willing to go, for the afternoon, which had begun prosperously, had ended in disaster. She took leave of Baron Polonyi as hurriedly as was consistent with politeness, and apologised almost too ostentatiously for the unusual length of their visit. ' My nephew wishes to be considered the culprit,' she said. ' Undoubtedly I am,' said Austin. ' We hope to see you soon at Castle Janacs, Baron, which will show that you at least have forgiven rne.' ' Nay, why talk of forgiveness.

I am sorry that Mrs Folliott should have been made nervous, but your long walk was a kindness to me. It gave me more of the society of these ladies,' said the Baron, with a bow which included the party, but a smile which was intended for Madame Suvarow alone. She did not appear to notice it, but when the carriage drove off she bent slightly forward, and rewarded him with a gracious and friendly smile which, had he seen it, would have filled Austin with envy. Then she sank back on the cushions, lookingthoughtful and a little sad, pleased that the gathering twilight hid her face, and that she was not obliged to talk. It was only too evident that everyone was depressed, the few attempts at conversation were spasmodic and un satisfactory, and soon even Augusta abandoned such efforts as vain. She was a little cross, for the afternoon had not been all she wished.

A caprice, for which she had no motive, had made her determine to be gracious to Herr Feller. His homage had amused her for a time, and when it became wearisome, she found that Baron Polonyi was devoting himself to Madame Suvarow, and that Austin had gone away with Clare. She was disappointed and vexed, and though she knew she was in fault, that reflection did not make her reasonable. She teased Herr Feller, she worried her mother, and was out of humour with herself, with Baron Polonyi, with Austin, and with Madame Suvarow. She found the drive home particularly tedious, for no opportunity of showing her dis pleasure was given her. Without such an opportunity she could not recover her spirits, and she was forced to brood over her fancied woes in a silence, which would not have been congenial at any time, but was the more irritating when she felt herself aggrieved and neglected.

DO Ij She was too much occupied with her own annoy ance to interest herself in her companions, as she would generally have done, so she did not notice that only Herr Feller seemed perfectly happy. Nothino* had occurred to mar his contentment. Even Augusta's ill-humour had not brought him down from the heights of bliss to which he had been raised by her favour. He considered her change of mood a new and charming caprice of the divinity whom he respectfully worshipped. Herr Feller was better versed in books than in women, and would never have ventured even to admire Augusta, had she not chosen to be gracious. As it was, he was quite satisfied to enjoy a sensation which was more exciting than any emotions which ONL Y CLARCHEN could be stirred by books, and which was not powerful enough to disturb his peace of mind in the smallest degree.

While the carriage rolled slowly homewards, he drowsily tried to solve a mathe matical problem, in whose solution he sometimes dreamt he was aided by a goddess, who was as incom prehensible as she was bewitching. He was the only member of the party who was calm enough to sleep. Mrs Folliott was unusually disturbed. Ever since she had roused herself from that fatal drowsi ness, she had had reason to blame her lethargy. Before she fell asleep everything had gone well, but she wakened to find Augusta talking to Herr Feller, and Austin and Clare gone. In a calmer mood she would have acknowledged that it was better that Austin should explore the glen with Clare, than that he should devote himself to Madame Suvarow, but Mrs Folliott was never reasonable when she was vexed with Augusta. She was always glad of a scapegoat, and on this occasion she was pleased to find one in her niece, whose position in the household would make her a submissive victim.

All the greater had been her astonishment when Clare had showed indignation. Now she hardly knew whether to be more angry or frightened. She could no longer look on Clare as a harmless dependent, and though she was seriously annoyed with her, she would be afraid in future openly to show her displeasure. To And that Clare was not a mere machine, who arranged wools and kept Augusta in good humour, was a perplexing discovery. Mrs Folliott tried to restore her mental balance by telling herself that Clare was ungrateful, and that it was her duty as Augusta's mother and Austin's aunt to humble the foolish girl's pride, and to keep her in the subordinate position which befitted a poor rela tion. And Clare for the first time in her life was rebellious. Her aunt had implied, that what would have been harmless in Augusta or Madame Suvarow was in her case reprehensible.

She had never tried to ignore the fact that she was Augusta's teacher, not Austin's guest, but to be reminded of it in this manner wounded her pride. Clare fancied she would not have minded Mrs Folliott's reproofs if she had felt guilty, but she could not acknowledge that she had done wrong. She longed for home, for her father, who, after all, w7as Mrs Folliott's brother, who belonged as rightfully to the society in which she now found herself, as did her aunt and Augusta. With him she could forget these petty distinctions ; she could be natural, their poverty would not make it impossible for her to meet Austin frankly, as any woman may meet a man whom she respects. Clare felt that she was learning to know that world, which her father had left for the sake of his art, and that she was be ginning to understand why he had turned from it with indifference.

She would have more sympathy with him now. She admired him more than ever, when she remembered his calm and lenient view7 of life, and that he could stand aside and look on the world without bitterness and without scorn. It was another mark of his noble nature, but how far was she from the attainment of his calm. Nay, she seemed to be losing the tranquillity, the self control which she had learned in her quiet home life. She had never felt so keenly as now. She was vexed that she had lost her temper when Mrs Folliott spoke to her. Her aunt was unjust, but she would have respected herself more, if she had been able to reply with less warmth of manner and with more dignity. Clare was miserable, the more so that she had just before been excited and happy. It grieved her that the recollection of the afternoon should be marred, that such petty feelings should make her unable to feel grateful for Austin's safety.

She was even angry with him because he had tried to shield her from Mrs Folliott's dis pleasure. In so doing, she fancied that he had tacitly acknowledged that her aunt was not without reason. She was foolish to be vexed, but she could not help it. She had no idea that her feelings were exaggerated, and were partly caused by physical and nervous fatigue. And she was therefore de prived even of that small consolation. Yet how trivial would her troubles have seemed to Madame Suvarow, for w7hom another door of hope had been closed that afternoon. She had been obliged to talk gaily to Baron Polonyi. She had contrived to make the most commonplace topics interest and amuse him, while her one thought was, that her brother had been disinherited. She did not care for Franz — his disappointment did not disturb her, but she had foolishly burdened herself with him, and if things went on in their usual course, he would soon drag her down to financial ruin.

And what would become of a woman w7ho had no friends, no position, worse than no husband, and no money ? The last would be the most grievous loss, for as long as she was rich, she could be independent, without money the future would be darker than the evening sky on which her eyes were steadily fixed. Nothing external could give her any help, but she would not move lest she should be obliged to speak to Austin. She was angry with him. He had no right to go away with that girl, even though she was talking to Baron Polonyi. If he had not wished to vex her, he would have waited. It was but a small annoyance, a pin's-prick in comparison with her grave anxieties, yet it caused her far more suffering. It fretted her, while her real troubles pressed on her with a dull leaden weight. Occasionally, she would glance round to see in the dim light, that Austin was evidently in pain and looked pale.

His wrist was more painful than he had expected, and he was grieved because that touch of discord had marred the perfect harmony between himself and Madame Suvarow. All his feelings of the afternoon returned, and Clare, the glen, and the waterfall were forgotten. It was a relief to every one when at last the carriage stopped, and as the stream of light from the open hall door fell on Madame Suvarow's face, Austin saw that she looked thoughtful, even sad. A feeling of compunction lest his own disappointment had rendered him unobservant and unsympa thetic, made him say with solicitude, as he gave her his hand to assist her to alight, ' You look very tired and — anxious.' ' Yes, I am tired,' she said listlessly, ' I hope Mrs Folliott will accept my over-fatigue as a sufficient excuse, if I do not come down-stairs this evening.

My maid will bring me all I want.' Austin watched her while she said good-night, and thought wistfully that he had lost a day, and that he would not be able to speak to her till to-morrow. He was impatient, and it seemed hard to wait. He hung about in the hall, while Clare was arranging the ferns which her aunt had acknowledged with a curt 'It was very thoughtful of you, I am sure.' She had filled a tall vase with the graceful, drooping fronds, and as she lifted another delicate leaf he said, ' They have not faded much.' ' No ; they have lasted longer than our pleasure,' she replied. 'I suppose that belongs to their nature as material things.' ' What do you mean ? ' he asked. ' I scarcely know, except that they are like gifts that last when the love of the giver is dead ; I have always felt sad w7hen I have seen marriage presents preserved in a museum.

I suppose w7hat is material endures longest in this world, and so pleasure is evanescent, while these poor solid fronds have not been spoiled even by my hot hands and the close atmosphere of the carriage.' ' Certainly no pleasure could withstand the depressing effect of the moral atmosphere in which we have spent the last hour,' he said, shrugging his shoulders. 'Aunt Matilda was decidedly out of humour, I hope you do not mind.' Clare's only answer was to bend over the vase to hide her face. She wished she could have said she had been indifferent, but she had minded and did not choose to say so. Such things are not pleasant,' said Austin, a little awkwardly, ' but I should like to convince you that your view is material and cynical. You do not mean all you said. I am sure you do not undervalue what is spiritual.' ' I do not ; but it would add to its value if it could last like these ferns, or even as a more enduring thing.

A silver box may last for centuries, but it remains the same, we expect life and growth from spiritual things. But this is really not a time to discuss such subjects, I must go up-stairs.' ' But with regard to this afternoon. Its pleasure should not be so brief. You promised never to forget it.' ' Yes ; but to remember is not to enjoy,' said Clare, sadly. Then she hurried away without giving Austin time to answer. She wondered if her aunt would learn that he had been talking to her, and though she was determined not to yield unduly to an unreasonable prejudice, yet she felt it would be more comfortable as well as more dignified to keep her old place. She had already broken the rule she had laid down for herself as they drove home ; but it had not been her fault, and she knew it would be easy to observe it when Madame Suvarow was present.

She carefully carried her little fern to her room, and laid its delicate fronds in a book to dry and preserve them, but she did not lino-er longer than necessary over the task. The thoughts suggested by the leaves were not all pleasant, for mingled with the recollection of Austin's kindness was the thought of his danger, and the enjoyment of the afternoon had been overshadowed by the succeeding annoyance. She did not know that her vexation was greater than her pleasure, chiefly because it was of later origin. She was suffering from the reaction that follows a great excitement, and from the disappointment which is always felt, when it is found that a spiritual or intellectual experience does not render small mundane troubles or interests powerless to wound or to absorb. She fell asleep that night to dream of foaming cataracts and hairbreadth escapes, and awoke next morning unrefreshed.

Nor did she find it possible to take her old place in spite of her resolution and her aunt's sour looks, for Austin's wrist was still painful, and she was the only member of the household who had any ex perience as a nurse. Mrs Folliott turned away helplessly from everything painful, and though Augusta was sure it would be very easy to bandage a sprained wrist, Austin would not allow her to make the attempt. She stood over Clare while she was busy, and when her cousin had left the room she remarked to Austin, ' You did take her too far yesterday. She looks pale.' ' I do not believe it was the walk,' he answered ' But do you not think your mother found fault with her unreasonably ? ' ' Perhaps she did ; but why should Clare mind what Mamma says I never do ? ' ' You are not quite in the same position,' he answered, ' you have been indulged all your life.' 'It will do Clare no great harm,' said Augusta, carelessly. 'After all, she is only here to keep me company. ' Your answer reminds me of the old days when I used to stand up for poor little Mademoiselle Leroux, and Miss Melville is your cousin, she has more claims even than a French governess.' 'And do you not remember that I used to tell you that Mademoiselle and I understood each other, and that she shed bitter tears when she said good bye to "cette ckere Augusta."

I tell you what it is, Austin, you have Clarchen on your conscience this morning and want to transfer her to mine.' ' She concerns you more directly than she does me,' he said impatiently, as he went to the window. What indeed was Clare or anyone to him when he had not seen Madame Suvarow ? He had done his best for Miss Melville when he spoke to Augusta. ' Cross, like the rest of the world,' was Augusta's mental comment, but she made no remark. She was aware that every one was out of humour. Madame Suvarow had not appeared, Clare was pale and quiet, Austin was impatient, and she had been summoned to her mother's room and had found her in bed.' ' I am only tired,' Mrs Folliott had said in answer to her daughter's inquiries, ' but I must speak to you, Augusta.' 'Well, Mamma, what is it ? ' Augusta had asked indifferently. ' You know quite well that I am thinking of your conduct yesterday,' her mother continued. ' Why will you make yourself so agreeable to Herr Feller?' ' Why should I not ?

I please Herr Feller who would otherwise be neglected, and hurt no one.' ' But yourself. Your manner makes you con spicuous. But it is always the same. You persist in flirting outrageously with men of whom I do not approve, and w7hen any one eligible appears, you treat him as you treated poor Lord Milford.' ' Lord Milford proposed,' said Augusta with a conscious blush. ' I wonder he had the courage, and after all it did him little good. You are ruining your pro spects. You amuse yourself with Herr Feller, and allow Madame Suvarow to absorb Baron Polonyi.' ' You do not want me to marry Baron Polonyi He might be my father.' ' I do not want you to marry any one, I am not a match-making mother, but your manner gives a VOL 11. B false impression. There is no use in allowing even an old man to think you a reckless flirt.' 'I did not flirt with Herr Feller,' interposed Augusta. ' It is absurd to say I flirt, when I merely talk to a man who is nothing but a student.' ' Well, it is all the same thing, and I have to sit by and see my daughter surpassed by other women.' ' I should never presume to enter into com petition with Madame Suvarow.' 'No, you could not, the Countess is a wise woman.

There is your ridiculous friendship with Austin, I do not approve of cousins marrying, still he is so good and in every way so unexceptionable, that I should not have opposed an engagement, but though your interest in him makes you indifferent to other men, you mean nothing serious. You allowed Clarchen to go off with him yesterday afternoon.' ' Why should she not ? ' A girl in her position ! That is. chiefly what I wished to speak to you about. You must take her in hand, for when I found fault with her she was annoyed.' ' She was quite right ! I should have been angry in her place.' ' That is not the same thing. Clare should re member that she was brought here from charity.' ' Excuse me, Mamma, but she is working for her salary. She is more independent than I am A woman who can work for herself has a place in society, and is more worthy of respect than a mere idler like me.

And you cannot measure Clarchen even by the old-fashioned standard that reckoned a governess an inferior, for she is your brother's daughter and my cousin.' ' I do not understand your new-fangled ideas * said Mrs Folliott, almost tearfully. ' But I consider that the first duty of a girl like Clarchen is to be humble.' ' I believe it is one of the first Christian virtues. Dante had to gird himself with the emblem of humility before he could even enter Purgatory, but I fail to see why Clarchen should practise that virtue more than other people. She is very good and very inoffensive and I am glad we brought her.' 'So was I, as long as she kept her own place, but you never will understand me, Augusta. I wish we had never come here. If we had not, Madame Suvarow could not have paid so long a visit.' ' That might have been better,' said Augusta drily. 'However she keeps us from being doll.

She will not stay much longer, and it would be very foolish of us to run away when we have come so far, and before it is time for you to return to England. You must make yourself happy, Mamma, and believe we can all take care of ourselves.' 'You never will understand why I should be anxious,' persisted her mother. ' No, because I cannot understand why you should want me to marry. You will miss me when I do, and in the meantime you might allow me to amuse myself. I know perfectly when to stop. As for Austin, it will do him good to sow his wild oats. I am watching the process with interest, and I must beg you, Mamma, to leave Clare alone. She does no harm, and if you treat her as if she were an inferior, you give Austin and every one else a bad impression of your relations. You cannot deny that she is your niece, and that there is a strong family likeness between us.' ' Unfortunately there is.

One should never have had a relation in such a position.' ' On the contrary, think what it would have been, if we had had an ordinary German Fraulein. Now, go to sleep Mamma, and forget your troubles, you will make yourself ill if you don't. It was only because you were tired last night that you were so vexed with Clarchen. ' ' I had too much reason to be vexed. Austin might have been killed, and next to Piers and you he is my greatest interest.' ' It was his own fault that he got into danger, not Clare's. You would have said nothing about it if I had been with him, and it is absurd to blame Austin and Clarchen because they were left to talk to each other, and went off for a walk. You will take my advice and have a long rest.' But Mrs Folliott would not rest. She had gone downstairs in time to see Austin's wrist bandaged, and to send Clare to her room by her ill-concealed annoyance.

Augusta had been vexed with her mother, but she felt aggrieved when Austin com mended Clarchen to her care. ' It is absurd that I should be blamed when I have been taking her part with Mamma,' she thought. 'I hate such a fuss about trifles. As Austin is cross, I will leave him to amuse himself and get Clare to tell me German stories.' Augusta was delighted with her new method of punishing Austin. She spent the morning in Clare's room, listening with interest to the old German legends, which Frau Miiller had often told by firelight, to while away the long winter evenings, and which Clare now found were an inexhaustible source of amusement to her cousin, who was so well amused that she did not notice that Clarchen was depressed, and was rewarded for her ingenuity when she discovered that Austin had wandered for hours aimlessly in the garden. ' A little neglect will do him good,' was her reflection. But what had become of Madame Suvarow ?

Chapter II

It was not till the afternoon was far advanced that Madame Suvarow came down stairs. She had passed a sleepless night, and felt that she could not encounter either friendly observation or critical scrutiny, until she had regained her equanimity and her looks. She was unwilling to be seen with heavy eyes and a dull complexion, but though she was an acknowledged beauty, she was not a mere slave to her appearance. She was too confident of her powers to have remained in her room, had she not fancied that her looks might reveal her precarious position, and she knew, that until she had regained the composure which rest alone could give, she could be mistress neither of herself nor of others. She had had a stormy interview with her brother the evening before, an interview which had confirmed her worst fears.