[Guld och namn.] Elvira, Lady Casterton. A novel ... Translated from the Swedish by A. Wood

Chapter I

Ij^pr*|HE next day Armida was ill, |g|gfe: and unable to attend the fes- " tivities still going on in honour of the newly-married pair. For days she lay in bed weak and feverish, not caring to exert herself even to think ; her strength seemed gone, and she took no interest in anything. The man for whose love and affection she yearned with her whole soul, had in open words expressed his contempt for her, and was" now gone away into a far-off country, likely never * VOL. III. to return. As far as was in her nature to care for any one, she loved this man- - she had schemed and plotted for years in the hope that some day she would be rewarded, and he would turn to her to give him the affection denied him from the two he had held dear to him. She bad been very patient ; she had waited and waited, hearing all his grief, listening to his passion for Elvira, and his admira tion for Martha, receiving only cold friend liness for herself, and yet always working for him.

And this was tbe end ! Contempt and hard bitter words from the man sbe would have sold her soul to win a smile from. _SJo wonder she felt life was not worth living for, and that if she could die she would not regret anything she had now in her possession. She was only ten days in her room, but when she left it she was ten years older in feeling and appearance. She had gone through a crisis. The illusion she had lived in, which, although self-created, had been the moving joy and hope of her life, was now, when she least expected it, suddenly snatched from her vision, and in its stead only a hopeless void and black des pair stretched before her. She had been downstairs, and was about again only a few days, when one morning a visitor was announced waiting for her in the drawing-room. She went in, wondering who it could be, and was not a little sur prised to see Captain Strom.

He came towards her, and said a few kind words. He noticed the drawn, hag gard expression on her face, and the thin ness of her hands, but he said nothing to 1—2 her about it. He spoke of his wife asked why she had not been to Skoggard since their wedding day — how sorry Martha was she had not seen her, and that they must be very good friends, &c, but all in a series of rapid questions without giving her time to answer, or say a word for herself. Then, as he sat down, he said, " The real reason I am here to-day is Lady Casterton — I want to know some thing about her, and as I am told you are her most intimate friend, I naturally turn to you to give me the information I seek." " That depends upon what it is, captain," she answered, quickly, for Elvira's name had agitated her. " It is about her last journey from here."

" Then you may command me." " Do you know if there was any scene between her and her husband which may have induced him suddenly to leave the Chateau ?" "I hardly think so," she answered, quietly, but with changing colour. " Then try and think," he replied, fixing his eyes sternly on her. " I know that the day before Casterton left he went to Skog gard, in consequence of a letter my wife wrote to him, and which you yourself handed to him." " If you know that why ask me about it V she answered, not daring to look at him. " Will you try and understand me ?" he went on, decidedly. " My wish is to find out if there was any uncomfortable scene between Casterton and his wife after that visit, and I shall think you kind if you will teU me." Armida shrunk from his fixed stare as she answered : " All I can say is that I met Lord Cas terton returning from Skoggard : he asked me if I had seen his wife, and I told him she had driven down to Altorp.

He turned the horses round immediately in that direction, and drove off. The next morning, when I was up, I heard he had left the Chateau." " So he drove to Altorp, and it was you who suggested it," remarked the captain, slowly. A moment or so after he added, " Thank you for what you have said — it is valuable information." In spite of her sorrow and want of spirits Armida could not resist the temptation to find out what this questioning betokened ; so she said : " I had no idea you took such an interest in Lady Casterton. I thought you hardly knew her." " It is easy to be mistaken on such mat ters," he replied, carelessly. " I flatter myself I know her very well, and I can assure you that very rarely in life have I taken such an interest in any one as I do in her. Perhaps you will kindly tell me, also, how long after her husband left she remained ?"

" Only one day. She and Mrs. Brow left the day after. She was good enough to beg me to remain here, and do as I would in my own home." "Have you heard from her since she went away ?" " Not from her — but Mrs. Brow wrote to me, saying that they were going to the south of Europe, so we need not be anxious if we did not hear again for a very long time." L'lvira, Loch/ Cmtevton. The captain rose to go, but just as he was saying good-bye, Araiida said, " Lotta, Lady Cabterton's old nui-se, had a letter direct, from her mi-.;. The news wits the same as mine from Mrs. Brow, but perhaps you would like to pg£ Lntta. and ask her }our-e]i '' And -Le in her turn fixed her gyee upon ths mail before her, to see what effect the name would have U|>on hiin, :i LvtTa, Lotta.. who i- -i : -. '" Ji« aid diffeieiuly. as it' lleariijg the name for the first time.

Skc Ijiuuulit up Elvira. Shall I call l,rr?" "Tlunik you." Arnnda raucr. and asked that Lotta should be sent for. The captain turned, and looked out ot window — perhaps to hide the ironical smile that had crept around his mouth. When Lotta entered he moved suddenly round and faced her — but, to Armida's disappointment, she saw no surprise or effect ■of any kind on the face of the waiting woman. She explained to her that the captain was anxious to hear the latest news of Lady Casterton, and begged her to tell him all she knew. But Lotta knew no more than Armida. Her mistress had written to say she was going South, and that no one was to be uneasy if a letter did not come from her for any length of time. She meant to travel for a long period, and the letter was dated from London. Lotta curtsied, and went, and soon after, the captain, again begging Armida not to forget his wife, but to come and see her directly she felt strong enough, shook hands, and mounted his horse.

A few days passed, and then Armida made up her mind to pay Martha a visit, and see if she could find out the reason for this ill-assorted marriage. She hoped to find Martha alone, but she was disappointed. The captain met her at the door, con ducted her himself to his wife and remained by her side during the whole visit. She drove home without having discovered one single clue by which to satisfy her curiosity. She had not seen Martha for a long time previous to her wedding day. During her short engagement she had been with her father in Denmark, and it was not till the banns were published that she arrived at Skoggard. So Armida had had no oppor tunity of observing her manner to her be trothed husband, or of finding out if she took the slightest interest in him. Certainly she did not love him.

But what could have induced her to tie herself to this strange man without youth or name or fortune . She was not without admirers who would have given her a coronet and an establishment worthy of a princess, if she would only have deigned to accept such advantages. She loved Cas terton, Armida knew very well ; why then give herself to this unknown man whom in London she appeared to hate and fear, and whose very presence Armida had noticed banished her colour and took the light from her eyes ? Armida was determined to spare no pains to find this secret out, and although her own heart was bleeding from the shattering of her dearest hope, she yet set to work to probe Martha's, and lay bare the sorrow which had evidently driven her to this step. For this purpose she went again and again to Skoggard, but the captain was always by the side of his wife, saying amiable nothings to both ladies, amusing them, showing them his paintings or read ing to them, but never leaving them alone for one single minute, and never allowing Armida the remotest chance of a private chat with Martha.

Chapter II

!NE morning towards the end of October Armida drove down to Skoggard. As the carriage stopped at the gate, an old servant of the family came forward to open the door, and said, " Madame Strom is not well to-day." " Madame Strom !" exclaimed Armida, astonished, " why not countess ?"* " Because the captain has forbidden us * In Sweden, if a noble lady marries a man with out title, it is optional if she retains her own title or not. — Translator's Note. to call her by her title, and he is master here. The count seems afraid of him. Never did I think that any one but Froken Martha would have to be obeyed here. It is a sad change, but this captain has all the power now." " How do you hke him for a master ?" " Oh, well enough ; he is severe, but then you see he is not a nobleman, and hasn't the manners ofthe old families."

" Is he at home T " No, he rode to Altorp an hour ago." " Alone ?" " Yes." " Ask if I can see your mistress." And as she slowly walked to the httle room where Martha was sitting, she re joiced that at last the moment had come when she could undisturbed accuse her of her treachery to Carl, and at the same time insinuate her husband's strong interest in Elvira. But she had hardly entered the room when the captain sprang up the stairs after her, and quickly opening the door said : " How good you are to come. Martha is not well, and will be delighted for you to stay with her till evening." " I cannot to-day, I think," began Armida. " But you must," he interrupted. " I will drive you home myself, so I shall send back your horses. May I V She said yes, hoping that in the course of a long afternoon circumstances would favour her with a few moments' chat alone with her hostess.

Presently he left the room and the two ladies were alone. " Martha," said Armida quickly, " why were you so false as to tell Carl — that — The door opened and in came the captain. "You will be far more comfortable in the tower-room. The sun is there, and it is warm and bright. Won't you come, darling ?" he asked, turning to Martha. " If you like," she rephed, rising up. And they all went, The " tower-room," as it was called, had once been the library, but was now change d into a kind of studio. There was a piano in one corner, a writing-table in another, and in the middle of the apartment stood a large easel. Pictures and statuettes were scattered about ; there was no carpet, but various reclining chairs and odd-shaped stools filled the room. One of these the captain dragged to the window and put his wife playfully into it ; he did the same to Armida, and then drawing up a stool for himself he sat between them and talked to then till dinner time.

After dinner he persuaded them to return to his den, as he termed the tower room, and he would try and find some thing to amuse them. He opened his portfolios and showed them his sketches ; he drew caricatures of people they knew so quickly and so ab surdly true that even Martha laughed as if she enjoyed the fun. Then he drew out several portraits of Martha, and told Armida how he longed to paint a full-length figure of his wife, but that the days were so short in the north he should not be able to accomplish it till the spring. vol. in. Sketch after sketch he took out of his portfolio and handed them to Armida. At last he uncovered one, and regarding it with a soft expression stealing into his face, he said after a pause, " Of all the work I have done this is the dearest to me. Nothing I regret more than not having a finished painting of this charming head.

I made this sketch one evening at the opera, when I was lucky enough to have a box vis-a-vis to the original." He held it before Armida, adding, " Have you ever seen a more fascinating countenance ? Look at the sweet expres sion, the beautiful oval of the face, and the soft gazelle-like eyes. Ah, that is the woman who is born to send men mad and worry poor artists to death. I shall never forget the impression she made on me the first time I saw her." Armida looked and saw — Elvira, and she half started as the face came near her. Martha stooped her head over the other pictures. *' " What a cruel stony heart the in dividual must have who would willingly bring sorrow and trouble into that angelic face," continued the captain, " and cause tears to flow from eyes that beam with so much kindness and goodness.

To see her and not to love her one must be indeed cold hearted, but to hve with her and wound and pain her, then such an one would be a demon. Don't you think so, FrokenKayh jelm ." He put back the sketch in his portfolio, but Armida did not answer ; his question had moved her too much. 2—2 " Apropos of Lady Casterton," said the captain breaking the silence which had fallen between them, " Herr Brogren has gone to Constantinople." " That is a veiy strange propos of yours," 6aid Martha ; " one would judge there must be some connection between Lady Casterton and M. Brogren." " Well, there is always a connection between a woman and the man she re jects," he answered. " You know, my dear, as well as Froken Amiida, that she shrunk from Brogren's admiration. It was that open unabashed affection of his which led up to the duel between him and Sir Sidney.

He has been punished, and I hope all Elvira's enemies will meet a similar fate." Fortunately for Armida's dignity the count, who had been sitting for the last hour reading the paper, suddenly said, " Shall I read you a portion of a letter describing a scene on the battle-field in the Crimea V " If it will interest the ladies, do cer tainly," said the captain eyeing Armida 's pale face and perturbed air, and throwing himself back on a couch to listen at his ease. The count read : " Most of our readers know that many noble-minded women, ladies of birth and position, both English and French, have followed the troops here, and act as nurses to the wounded. The English ladies have hitherto acted most self-denyingly. They have left home and comfort, smiling faces and every luxury in order to take upon themselves the onerous duty of comforter to the sick and wounded, and to nurse and tend the helpless soldiers.

Amongst this noble band of self-devoted sisters was a Lady Casterton " His three listeners uttered exclamations of surprise. The captain sprang up and hastened to his father-in-law's side. His face was blanched and his forehead damp with perspiration as he looked over the shoulder of the count who read on. " Without thinking of or heeding the danger around her, she moved in the thickest of the battle, consoling the dying and bind ing up the wounds of the fallen men. The fighting was over, the Russians were re tiring, when one of the last shots struck her between the shoulders as she was stooping over a wounded man." A sigh, so deep that it seemed as if life itself were giving way, burst from the cap tain's breast. He seized the back of the chair for support, and was evidently suffer ing acutely from the shock he had just had.

Before his wife had time to speak to him or recover from the agitation the sudden news had given her, a servant entered the room with a letter in his hand. " A messenger brought this from Stock holm. It is urgent, and from the French minister, captain." But he took no notice, only stared at the servant as if he heard nothing. The count touched his arm, saying — " You look ill, Strom ; what is the matter ?" He did not answer, but slowly stepped to the man and took the letter. " Is there to be an answer ? " he asked. " No ; it came by special messenger. He waits below, but says he has no orders for a reply." " Good. Give him some drink-mo- >> ney. He sat down on the couch again and opened his dispatch. His brow cleared slightly as he read the few lines it con tained, and when he had finished he gave again a deep sigh, and put his head in his hands.

He was silent a long time, and when at last he raised his eyes and looked at his wife, he saw her head was restingon the cushion, and she seemed to be weep ing. He rose and went to her. " Martha," he said sadly, " why do you cry ? Are you sorry Elvira is dead ?" " Yes," she answered, looking up at him, whilst it seemed as if some softer feelings were forcing themselves into her face and expression. He looked at her half tenderly, half proudly, for a moment, then he turned to Armida and said coldly — " The coachman must drive you home to-night. I must beg you to excuse me, Froken." And without another word he left the room. At last she was alone with Martha, and could talk unreservedly ; but at that mo ment even she could think of nothing but the sad and sudden death of the young and beautiful Elvira Casterton. She sat still without opening her hps, and then half an hour after quietly rose, silently kissed Martha, and went away.

Chapter III. Owever

wicked a man's heart may be, there are moments in his life when his better nature resumes its sway and insists upon being heard, if only in the recesses of his conscience. So it was with Armida. She could not sleep at all that night ; it seemed to her as if some one were caUing to her and saying that she was the cause of Elvira's early death, and that she by her intrigues and underhand plottings had driven the un happy woman into the dangers of the war. Whichever way she turned in her bed, if she opened her eyes or shut them, she saw Elvira's sorrowful face near her, asking, " Why did you work me so much harm V And what had she herself gained by all the wUful mischief she had wrought ? Only contempt and aversion from the man tho only being in the world she loved. The morning dawned at last, but gray and clouded, and as dark for the earth's day as her night had just been.

Worn out and spiritless she rose and dressed, and was going from her room to breakfast, when the door was flung wide open and Lotta's scared face appeared before her. " Froken ! Froken !" exclaimed the poor woman, " what is this here in the paper ? Look — can — can it — no, no — it can't be true — it is fearful ! Read it — see— look !" She handed Armida a paper, and casting Elvira, Lxtcly Casterton. 29 herself on the bed, groaned aloud in her agony. Armida looked at the part she had pointed to, and saw, with its deep black edge, the little square corner, announcing Elvira's death. She sighed as she read it, and glanced uneasily at the weeping woman on the bed. For a few moments Lotta sobbed aloud ; then, starting up, she cried out : " Oh ! say it is not true — that the paper is wrong, or I shall go mad ; she die before me — my darling, my foster-child !"

And again she sunk down overcome with her grief. Armida tried to comfort her, but it was of no use. Her sobs grew louder and stronger, till at last she had a violent fit of hysterics, which frightened Armida. She had the suffering woman carried to her room, and the doctor was sent for to come at once. But before the doctor arrived another visitor was announced asking for Lotta. It was Pastor Fredrik Brogren. He was taken to Lotta's room, and he had not been there a quarter-of-an-hour before Lotta grew quiet and calm, and able to talk coherently of her mistress's sad death. Pastor Brogren had accomplished the task Armida had faded in. He spoke kindly and gently to the agitated woman, comforted her with warm sympathy, and a patient, kind-hearted manner, and gradu ally soothed her till the sobs ceased, and tears of relief poured from her eyes.

Presently he motioned Armida to leave the room ; and when he was alone with the broken-hearted, suffering serving-woman, he encouraged her to tell him the long pent up troubles that she had borne for so many years. It is not for us to partake in the secrecy of this interview — enough that when it was aU confessed, Lotta said at last with the tears streaming down her cheeks, "I know now I sinned in not telling Elvira everything concerning herself before she married. The evening before she went away to that dreadful Crimea she came to me, and begged me to tell her aU I could about her mother, but I would not — and then I felt that I had done a great wickedness in letting her go without knowing the truth. Shall I ever forget her face as she said to me just before she left me, " ' Lotta, your affection has been a mistaken one, and it has done me much harm.

If you had only told me before I 'married that my mother had committed a crime, never would I have taken Lord Caster ton, and then I need never have left my home in sorrow and grief as I am doing now. " The tears rolled down her face, but I let her go, and stUl held my tongue about the truth she had a right to know. Oh I Pastor Brogren, when I think of it now, I feel as if I shall never have any peace !> again. He laid his hand on the woman's bowed head, and said gently, "Remember the words I said just now, Lotta, and believe that we are aU instru ments in the hands of a great, and mighty, and loving Father." She clasped her hands, and looked up at him thankfully — and when a Uttle later he left her, she was resigned and submissive to the great sorrow she had been so suddenly and star tlingly called upon to bear. vol. rrr.

Chapter IV

?i HEN Armida left Skoggard the evening before, Martha and her father remained alone in the tower chamber. " Martha," said the count, breaking the long sUence which had foUowed Armida's departure, "she is dead. Fate has freed us from her." " Freed us !" she exclaimed, in a low tone, as she went over to her father, and laid one arm caressingly on his shoulder. " Say rather," she added, sighing, " that we sent her to her death." She passed her hand over her forehead, and went on slowly : *' I wish I had never hated her — never done anything to give her pain." "What!" uttered the count, putting his arm round her waist- — " What ! you, Martha, speak in that whimpering tone ! Have you changed your character? Re member that that Elvira, as long as she lived, was a dangerous enemy for us. Her death is the one thing that ought to rejoice us, even if it cannot give you your heart's desire, as you are now married to this man, who — " He hesitated, and stooped to pick up the faUen papers.

" Has an iron wUl, and has chosen to make himself Elvira's avenger," she added for him. " You and I, papa, are his bond slaves, and nothing more," and a bitter smUe swept over her beautiful face. 3—2 The count murmured between his teeth, " I hope yet to live tiU the day when I shall tread on the grass over his grave — as long as he is alive there is no peace for us. But don't speak of him, Martha — speak of yourself." " And what of me ?" she answered. "Nothing! nothing!" She leant her head against her father, as she continued, " I read once of two criminals who loved each other so well and ardently that when one of them was taken to his death, the other instantly murdered his jailor in order to die the same death as his friend — and I thought, as I read that story — of you and me. We have both done that which would not bear investigation, and which takes away aU respect for each other ; and yet how tenderly we love each other.

Some say where there is no esteem there can be no love. For you, papa, I have never had any esteem ; you have always appeared to me to act most contemptibly — and yet I love you so truly that to save you from disgrace I contracted this hateful marriage, which is fast making me a sickly, miserable, wretched woman, full of fear and horror of the future. The man by whose side I am bound obliges me to do his wUl in all things ; he seems to me to be a hard avenger of my sins. He has dragged from me all power and energy, and now I feel like an entrapped lioness. Each time I move a step I am conscious of the cage around me, and I feel my strength fast failing me. And this is why, although I pity you, I tell you how fondly I love you ; and yet — I wish I did not — for when you read out an hour ago, of her death, I longed to spring forwards and cry out, 'Why did you teach me to hate that woman ?' but instead I burst into a flood of tears."

She raised her head, and added sadly, and with a ring of regret in her voice, "Is it really I, the fearless Martha, who weeps over an enemy's death ? What has that man not brought me to '." The count stared at his chUd " ReaUy, Martha, I can hardly recognize you. You, beautiful and talented as you are, to let yourself be crushed by the man you hate ! Allowing you were forced to marry him, there is no need now to be his slave. From the moment he united his fate to yours, it was his duty to shield and keep you from all discovery, but not to vent his wrath on you." "Martha, I have waited for you a long time," cried a voice at the door. She turned, and saw her husband. For a moment, she looked at his drawn white face as if she did not understand his words — but an instant after she took her father's hand, pressed it in both hers, and said, " Good-night, papa !" then quietly went to wards her husband, who was staring angrUy at her father with his large dark eyes.

"Go to your room, Martha," he said ; " I must speak to your father." But she stood still. " Whatever you have to say to papa I mean to hear. I shall not leave this room till you go with me." The captain opened his eyes, as if this opposition astonished him. " Martha," he said, quietly, " _. wish you to go. What I have now to say to your father it is best no one else should hear. Go, then ; I shall come soon. You are far too wise a woman to obUge me to put you out ofthe room." She glanced first at her father, then at her husband, and left the room. The captain shut the door and locked it, as if to make sure against intruders ; and then turning round, faced the count, who was leaning against his chair, frightened and fearful of what was to follow. The tall, muscular, strongly -buUt captain stood looking for several seconds at his crouching, fear-stricken father-in-law, ere he said, in a voice he vainly endeavoured to render calm, " Count Stangenskjold, you must remember to keep to yourself tvhy I married your daughter, for if you do not, and permit yourself to talk to her as you were doinowhen I entered the room just now, then you run the risk of my forgetting the rela tionship between us, and publishing to the world what a wretch vou are.