Land ahead : a novel

Front matter

SSSA

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Letom es | L: ;

Chapter I

I hold it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp, in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things, In Memoriam.

LIKE a broad band of light shone the waters of the Rhine in the rays of the soft moonlight ; the mountains on either side seemed to glower and frown on the river, as though they were jealous sentinels of such beauty. ‘The bright water, now sometimes lost in their dark shadow, and now emerging into a dazzlingly brilliant silver light, seemed to be coquetting, archly smiling, with its guardians. The hills too seemed sometimes won over, as though bending their heads in the moonlight to listen to its voice; then as suddenly

VOL. I. B retreating into the black gloom of shadow and shutting their souls to the siren’s song.

Nature’s majesty was, however, as usual, sadly interfered with by the busy hand of man ; here the shrill sound of the railway whistle awoke the old hills with a sudden start, and there the ugly shape of a steamer and the paddle of its wheels and its smoking funnel overshadowed the still beauty of the river. So far had the hand of Progress advanced in the year 1867.

Among the human freight on board one of these boats sat a group of German students ; they were not thinking about the beauty of the scenery, they were seeking their amusement from another source. They had at first attempted some raillery on a worthy old couple who were seated near them, amid their bundles and packages, ready at the first signal to disembark; but the old people had very soon discovered the intentions of the young men, and turning a deaf ear to all their questions, treated them with sovereign contempt.

“You must leave the good man alone, | think, my friends,” said a young German, laughing, as he saw their discomfiture, and sympathized with their feeling of weariness, consequent on having no frolic on hand.

“Ah! they are dull,” said one of the students, smiling back to him.

The young man wrapped his cloak more closely around him, and pursued his walk up and down the deck.

“Who is he?” asked another of the group, taking his pipe out of his mouth, and leaning over the little table towards him who had spoken.

“JT do not know. From Berlin, I think.”

“An officer, surely.”

“Yes,” said another, stopping to pull a long draught of beer, “I have seen him; I think he is in one of the Garde Regiments.”

* And I,” said the first, “have seen him at Heidelberg, I am sure.”

The young stranger passed them once or twice in his walk, but he did not seem anxious for conversation. He stopped, and presently leaning over the side of the boat, to all appearance was lost in his own reflections.

“He must be deeply in love to look at the moon like that,” said one.

“Yes!” said another, ‘‘ something lke this.”

And with a rich full voice he trolled out a song, while the rest joined in chorus, clinking their glasses, and raising their voices so loud that no other sound could be heard.

B2

A young Englishman who had been hovering about, and was evidently tired of his own society, laughed out loud as they concluded.

“Could not you give us an English song, mein herr?” asked one of the students.

“Nothing so fine as that,” said the youth; “and then you would not understand it.”

“‘ Not understand love-songs! Oh! what men must we be then? All the world understands love-songs. But ach! I forgot. The English have not got any, nor do they understand love at all.”

“Oh, but they do though, and all the more perhaps that they do not sing or say so much about it as you Germans.”

Anger flashed out on the faces of the students.

“You English think of nothing but ae making. Theres is no poetry, no seal! in you.’

“T don’t know about our souls,’ said the English youth ; “but we have plenty of poetry.”

“Not in the people, not universal, as we have. You have your one poet perhaps in a hundred years. We are all poets.”

“What do you say to our Shakspere ?”

“Ah! that is what you Englishmen all say. He existed—if he existed—some centuries ago, and is to last you for all time.”

“ Tf he existed! what do you mean, sir?”

“Many think it took many men to produce his writings, and that all you call his work is not by him.”

“Germany is jealous of England,” said the boy thoughtlessly.

“Jealous, mein gott! Do you hear? Jealous! of such a little country of merchants and moneymakers and traders. Why! what are you to us!”

“ Hear him!”

“Listen to that!”

They got up on their feet and began to surround him, animation on their faces, delighted to have picked a quarrel at last, and it might have turned out rather awkwardly for the Englishman had not the officer, who had been listening idly to the conversation without joining in it, now stepped into the circle. .

“You are a little hard in your arguments, my friends, on this gentleman. He is but one against you all, and his German at least sounds to me better than your English.”

“ He says we are jealous of England.”

“Ach! that is not true. But you chose your words badly,—they were not courteous ; and jealousy is not courteous, so he mistook.”

“Oh! he mistook!” grumbled they sullenly.

‘We are not civil either to our foreign guest,” he continued. “I for one offer him a glass: of our Bavarian beer, and drink his health.”

The youth smiled as he thanked him, and apologized for his bad German as he set down his glass, saying his lack of words often caused him to choose stronger terms than he should use naturally.

“They are dangerous fellows, those young Heidelberg men,” said the officer, drawing him slightly apart. ‘‘ They always try to quarrel, and do not care how they begin.”

‘“T was foolish to join in their conversation.”

“Look at them now calling for a song. By Heaven, I will give them one.”

And stepping up to them, the stranger sang them a song in a rich well-modulated voice.

Shouts of applause followed, and one voice after another rang out drinking his health and that of his friend. The young Englishman smiled doubtfully at the gay German, as they were thus coupled together.

Just then the steamer stopped, voices called, and lights on the river bank showed they had reached a place of some importance.

“Ach! this must be Sonnenthal,”’ said the German. “Adieu, my friend! Adieu, all of you! I must leave you!”

The Englishman then awoke as from a reverie, and with true insular stolidity shouldered his bag, nodded a silent adieu to the group, and, landing, was soon lost in the crowd, and seen no more.

His quasi-friend, on the contrary, immediately became the centre of an animated crowd. He had more luggage than the Englishman, and there seemed to be some difficulty in collecting it; then, when it was collected, he was persecuted by officious men, all anxious to carry it away. Singling out one of them, the possessor of the baggage bade him stand by it till he returned, and stepping across the road, he accosted the portly landlord of the inn, who was standing in the porch with his hands in his pockets, smoking his pipe.

The steamer had gone off by this time, and there was comparative quiet.

“ How can I best get to Sonnenfels, my friend— driving or walking? Ihave been before, but I forget.”

“Tf mein herr would drive I can get him a carriage at once, or if he walks one of my men shall show him the way ; it is short but steep.”

“ But I have luggage.”

“Well, mein herr, I think I would drive.”

“Then order me a carriage.”

“Will mein herr step inside? Ach!” said the good man, as he half turned and saw his visitor's face in the full light, “but I do not think you are a stranger here! I think, nay! I am sure,” and he drew his hand across his brow as he spoke, “that I have seen you before.”

“You are clever at faces then indeed ; but yes! I have been here before.”

“JT was sure of it. And now I think of it— you are our lady of Sonnenfels’ cousin, he who eame two years ago, to stay so long she hoped, just before Hans Senden died, and who went away so soon. How we all talked about it!”

“Did you?” ~ Count Valentin von Broderode, is it not ?”

“The same, my friend. Will you order my carriage ?”

With many obsequious bows, the landlord left him, and Valentin, growing impatient, alternately consulted his watch and the distant but substantial form of the Castle of Sonnenfels, situated on the summit of the hill above the town.

“Tell me about the death of my cousin’s husband !” said he to the old man when he came back. ‘ Was it very sudden ?”

“Tt was. But will not mein herr take some refreshment ? not a glass of wine or beer or anything! ach! gut! some of my Assmanshausen— it is good—-we are famous for it—and the vines were good last year.”

“Tt is excellent, Herr Flugel. But tell me about Hans Senden.”

“But it was sad. You know he was subject to fits of passion, strangely excitable ; it seemed too that he had heart-disease, which no one knew before ; and so one day, all of a sudden, after one of these bursts of anger, he suddenly fell down, and they found he was dead.”

“How dreadful! But what excited him so?”

“Ah! that no one knew. They were alone, he and our lady, and it was something she said. It was very soon after you had been here, and had left so abruptly. Perhaps now Count von Broderode will stay longer ?”

There was a sly twinkle in the landlord’s eye as he put this question, but Count Valentin answered haughtily—

“No! I have only come on family matters. I shall not stay.”

“Our lady is lonely, they say, and has so few visitors.” |

“Ah! here is the carriage, I sttppose.”

“But no! bow quick they drive. That cannot be Heinrich! Ah! let me see! Why, it is our lady herself; she has come to fetch you!”

Von Broderode stepped out into the porch just as the coachman pulled up, and was instantly greeted by shrill female tones.

“Ah, Valentin ! are you there ?—have you been waiting? Iam so sorry, but I could not help it. We were at a concert, and we could not get away !”

“Qh, there is no hurry, Lotta! I have only just come!”

“This is Frau Steingracht, Valentin! poor Hans’ sister! she 1s prepared to like you for my sake, Valentin !”

There was -disappointment amongst the little eroup round the inn at this advent of Frau Senden. The landlord’s fly would not be wanted, nor more would the porter’s truck or his assistance. Having paid for his refreshment at “The Three Roses,” and having distributed a handful of small coms amongst the disappointed porters, Valentin was soon installed in the carriage with the two ladies, and proceeded up the hill to Sonnenfels.

“How lovely your castle looks in the moonlight, Lotta!” said he. “I have been admiring it with Hans Flugel.”

LAND AHEAD ! it

“Did you remember him, Valentin ?”

“No; but he remembered me.”

The road to the castle was steep and circuitous, and Valentin leaned back in the carriage, letting the soft moonlight influence him and lull him to silence, for with the eagle glances of Frau Steingracht upon them, the cousins found conversation, save that of the most trivial kind, almost impossible. Lotta had written to him, entreating him to come, but assigning no reason save that of relationship and old affection; and later, as they paced the terrace together, the thoughts that had been haunting him all day as he journeyed from Berlin came surging to his lips with such force he could scarce repress them. Lotta was an enigma to him; and he was almost sorry he had come.

He watched her now, flitting about coquettishly amid the shadows made by the moonlight, now standing awaiting him in the silver sheen, answered gently her tender words, and received with something like pity her adulation and veiled flattery. If only it had been courteous, he would have asked why she had sent for him !

“T come to you almost as a stranger, don’t I, Lotta? It is so long since.”

‘“* You left so abruptly.”

“So much has happened since then. But I did not find you last time—not the Lotta of © days gone by. That was why I went.”

“ And yet I am the same.”

“No! oh no! Ihave lost her! You cannot help it! Do you remember the old garden at home? you were my bright fairy then! Now— but we cannot help it! You have lived; and I—I was a boy then; I am but beginning life now !”

“And you believe in it, Valentin ?”

“Tn hfe? certainly !”

“And so do I; only | would begin again! Let me go back for a moment and tell you. He is dead, so it is no sin now.”

“ Lotta, how did he die ?”

“Tt was his heart. He was in a passion.”

“What about ?”

She walked a few paces on, she stopped to pluck a flower; the full moonlight was on her face, and then she met Valentin’s eye boldly, and said—

“We quarrelled about you.”

The sound of a window being shut made them both start, and she whispered—

“Tt was Martha Steingracht. She must have heard. I had no idea she was listening. Valentin, we are undone. I never breathed this to a soul before, and now to think that she should know.”

“We had better go in.”

“Yes; I cannot say more now. ‘To-morrow, Valentin, for it is late. Good-night.”

Valentin could hardly congratulate himself on the confession he had heard, and when at last he left the terrace, and betook himself to his slumbers, a strange assembly of figures haunted him, amongst which the corpulent and defunct Hans Senden and Heidelberg students, with ghastly wounds on their faces, were the principal intruders.

CHAPTER II. ‘Fortune brings in some boats that are not steer’d.”

Cymbeline, Act iv. Se. 3.

THE next morning Valentin lay stretched at full length in a green alley—Lotta Senden had told him to await her there, and he, having restrained the impulse to ask her why she had sent for him, was exercising as much patience as he could master. On each side of him the walls of verdure shut him in, till, narrowing in the distance, they apparently met, and mingled in conclave over their prisoner. Above him the waving tree-tops seemed to touch the steel blue of the sky, stooping now and again as though to waft a blessing on him, or as though to speed him a kiss by the passing zephyr; just there, towering above the trees, rose the old castle of Sonnenfels, like a hoary sentinel, seamed and scarred with centuries of history, and looking down with something of scorn on the idle youth. Behind there was a blue background of distant mountain, to be caught but seldom, when the tree-tops waved a pass for the graceful forms ; below him, now and again, he saw the bright waters of the Rhine sparkling through the parted leaves; around him rose the hum of myriads of insects, birds darted across his strip of possession, and the flowers and shrubs filled the air with a thousand perfumes, and steeped his senses in delight.

A sense of peace came over Valentin; his thoughts flew back to the time, years ago, when he and Lotta were children together, and they had vowed eternal constancy. What dreams they had had, what castles in the air they had built! He laughed now as he thought of them ; he was very sure Lotta must laugh at them too now! Life was so very different from that.

Lotta herself is flitting before him now as he thinks thus; here she is with her fair hair, laughing mien, deep blue eyes, and svel/fe figure ; here she is peering at him through the parted leaves of a chestnut tree, crowned with a wreath of bilberries.

“Come, Lotta, come,” and he waved his hand, half displeased, half in jest, “we cannot be children always; we grow out of it in time; we leave it behind. Come, be reasonable.”

“Are you so old then, Valentin ?” said she, as she came and sat herself beside him; “for me, I feel as if my youth—nay! my childhood—might come back to me; and I would gladly have it so!” ,

“Your wealth and your freedom seem to suit you, Lotta?”

“Yes, but, Valentin, put them out of your mind, cannot you? I want you to see meas I used to be!”

“J shall never do that again, Lotta!”

The young man’s face darkened as he spoke, while hers paled under his glance.

“Never again?” faltered she.

“Listen tome! How long is it since you and I spoke together—face to face? Five—six years, is it? Do you remember the day we parted under the old willow tree at home, when I went to Heidelberg? What did we say then? That you were to be my little wife, that I was to be so proud of you, and that you in your turn would always worship me! Do you remember, Lotta ?”

eV ess”

“Well! the next news I had was that you were promised to Hans Senden, a rich merchant: aman ever so much older than yourself, a man below you in station, a man whom you could not love, a man whose money you did love. From that moment you were another person to me.”

“Valentin, be generous; you forget the pinching poverty, the weary days in Berlin. Hans Senden seemed good; he was very rich; you were away, and I only did what I was told.”

“ And you expected to be happy ?”

“ As far as doing right makes one

“Oh no, Lotta; say as far as being false makes one happy.”

“But I was not false. I was always true to you.”

Valentin stared at her.

“You and I could not have married! I was not happy; but I had hopes that ultimately I might do you good, and if you had not been unkind I might have been happier.”

“ T unkind ?”

“Why did you grow so handsome? Why did you dance with every one at the balls but Lotta Senden? Why did your face wear that contemptuous smile when you met me? Why, once when you spoke, was it only to twit me on my diamonds? you did not even admire them!”

Valentin laughed.

“7 remember that night. Hans Senden

VOL. I. Cc

> P looked so old, so very old; and so gouty, and so unhealthy. The diamonds seemed such a mockery ; and so did your love. You preferred the diamonds to me. You knew I could not give you diamonds.”

“But he could not live for ever. How stupid men are.”

“VfTans Senden must have been very stupid!” said Valentin bitterly.

“Ts all that terrible game I played for you to go for nothing, Valentin?” asked she tenderly. “That daily death in life, that bitter self-sacrifice, that utter self-abnegation that you might be rich and happy some day—is all that to count for nothing? Surely when you came to Sonnenfels two years ago you saw it all then? surely you understood, and you saw what I suffered daily— nay! hourly—and you must at least have pitied me?”

There was a moment’s silence.

“ Am I to be candid, Lotta ?”

Her affirmative answer was scarcely audible.

“T saw you so changed, your falsehood had so changed me, that I could not pity you. I scorned you. Forgive me, Lotta.”

She hid her face in her hands.

“You were so changed, so altered, so faded;

you seemed to have lost caste. You were my star no more; I looked in vain. You were noble, regal, bright no more. You had learned to serve, to obey, to scheme, to flatter. Lotta, I could not bear it, and I left you and Sonnenfels I thought for ever. Why have you sent for me now ?”

There was a silence, only broken by the voices of the birds and the insects murmuring around them.

“Why have you sent for me now, Lotta?” he repeated, more kindly, taking her hand.

“Oh, Valentin! you are unkind, cruel!”

He did not answer.

“Well, do not care for me!” she said presently passionately. ‘In Berlin, I dare say, now you have a thousand loves. But at least be my cousin still; I am so alone in the world, so forlorn, so forsaken.”

“ Always, Lotta, always, trust me.”

“ At least be my friend.”

« Always, believe me.”

“And stay with me now for awhile, and brighten my life a little with your society.”

“Surely I will.”

“ Just because—of—our old promises.”

“Which, dear, you broke.”

C2

Just then Martha Steingracht appeared at the end of the alley.

“T think I shall leave you, Lotta,” said he quickly.

“Yes; adieu.”

And womanlike, she smiled, though her dearest hopes had just been shattered to the ground.

“Cannot I mend up my broken happiness even now ?” thought she, as he smiled reassuringly in answer to her.

Meanwhile Valentin, starting to his feet, lighted a cigar and followed the windings of the green path down the hill-side. It brought him to Sonnenthal; there nestled the houses under the protecting presence of the stern old castle, and the sun gleamed down upon them, and on the sparkling river, and on the boats, as though shedding its blessing upon them all.

To Valentin, just come from crowds and from a society which gave him little time for reflection, this bright morning scene was particularly soothing, and productive of thought and calm meditation. He was accustomed to be very independent, and to endeavour to shape out his future life just as might seem to him good. Now his future seemed to him too beautiful, too unsullied, too fair to be weighted with Lotta

Senden ; that old dream of his seemed now faded and false ; he had risen above it; he had left the cloud behind him, for it to wreathe itself into another shape.

While thus thinking, as he leaned on the parapet above the water, Valentin had been idly watching a little boat on the river. He had watched it because it was there, not seeing it perhaps more particularly than anything else that floated before his eyes. Just now his attention, however, was particularly directed to it by seeing the excitement of a group of men on the bank of the river. They were shouting, gesticulating, and attracting the attention of every one to the solitary occupant of the boat, as also arousing the young man himself to a sense of his danger. Two large steamers were simultaneously approaching him from opposite directions, and the little boat, that looked but like a mere fly in the path of two elephants, must, in the tumult of waters they caused, be inevitably swamped.

It is too late now to avoid them or to escape the opposing currents: even now the boat turns like a tee-to-tum in the whirl of waters. The excited crowd is surging to and fro in its excitement. The whole town seems there. The eries are redoubled. The men on board the yy LAND AHEAD !

steamers shout and attempt to stay their unwieldy machinery. Alas! it is vain! There— capsized, bottom-upwards is the little boat.

But while others look and call and gesticulate helplessly, Valentin does more. Rushing down the steps, stripping his clothes off as he goes, he pushes through the frightened crowd, and prepares for a mad attempt. A girl standing there calls out in terror; but he only meets her fear with a smile, and waving his arm, springs recklessly into the dazzling water.

Quick as thought, some men, already pushing off in a boat, try to reach the strong swimmer, while in breathless suspense the crowd watch the fainting, spent efforts of the unfortunate youth who had been upset, and the strong strokes of Valentin.

“Holy God! will he do it?”

“Will he reach him ?”

“Ah! he cannot! The Rhine is so strong!”

“Ah!” said the portly landlord of “ Die drei Rosen,” “that such a good strong life should be spent thus! Mein Gott! mein Gott!”

‘¢ Will no one help him ? can no one save him 2 Oh! who can swim?” said the girl, who had screamed when Valentin jumped into the water.

‘Who cares for the sickly English youth 2

Our young German is worth half-a-dozen of him !”

“Tt is Frau Senden’s cousin,” said Heinrich Flugel, mournfully. ‘He only arrived at Sonnenfels last night.”

“To meet his death.”

“What will she do? what shall we say ?”

“Ah! this Rhine! it looks so fair, but it is so strong—so cruel! Ach, mein Gott!”

But just then a shout rent the air. The man was saved. Valentin has reached him, and now the boat is there. Valentin catches hold. Yes! see! they have them—have lifted them both in —drowning man and saver. With rapid strokes they are being borne back to land.

“God be praised!” rose the murmur. ‘“ How marvellous! how beautiful!” and some of the old women fell on their knees, while the men smiled, and the girl who had been so frightened hastily wiped a tear from her eye.

“How good it is to see the young and strong using their youth and strength for others!” said an old woman, going on with her knitting as she spoke. “That is right! but how few do it!”

But here they come! Valentin, pale indeed, but eager, excited, seeking something. [ull of care for the life he had saved, tenderly watching him, calling for restoratives, proud of him as though he were his own possession; looking down on the calm, unconscious face as though wondering over his history, and then looking up suddenly, apparently in search of something. Was it his clothes ?

They gave them to him. Gathering round him, they told him he must be warm, that he was precious, dear to them; that he was a hero. He laughed in their faces.

Lotta Senden rushed out of the group.

“How could you, Valentin! dear, brave Valentin!” and she kissed his hands, as her eyes filled with tears.

And then beyond he met the earnest gaze of the girl who had screamed; there was a calm, proud smile on her face now; the unrest died away from his eyes, they smiled fearlessly, triumphantly back to hers; and then he turned again to care for the youth he had saved.

“Who is he?” he asked. “I travelled with him yesterday evening; he is English; he was on board the steamer with me. Who is he?”

“He is a young English gentleman, mein herr,” said Heinrich Flugel, officiously. “ He is staying with the English clergyman here, to learn German.”

“Do you know where he lives ?”

“Oh yes! he comes every day for a boat.”

So they lifted him into a carriage, and Valentin sat by him; then together these two—the one so proud of, so in love with life, that he thought he had given the greatest treasure in giving it ; and the other so white, so inert, so mystérious, even now trembling on the verge, between this life and the next—left the sympathizing, admiring throng.

CHAPTER IIT.

Princess: My friend, the Golden Age has passed away, And yet true souls can bing it back again ; Yea! to confess to you my firm belief, That golden time of which the poets sing Was never more a truth than it is now. Or if it ever was, ’twas only so That it may always be restored again. Still close together true congenial souls, And share the joys of all this beauteous world. Goethe’s “ Tasso.”

Marcaret HorrMman, too, left the busy scene, and took her way quietly along the river bank towards her home. She was vexed with herself that she had screamed when Valentin had pushed by to jump into the water; she was vexed that she had shown any excitement, or had been betrayed into any individual interest for Valentin. She had never seen him before, had not known who he was till afterwards, when the words that he was Frau Senden’s cousin had reached her, and it had therefore been but one human being’s natural interest in another that had carried her beyond herself.

LAND AHEAD ! ode

Margaret’s life had all been spent at Sonnenthal ; it was so very quiet, so very uneventful, that 1t was small wonder if the excitement of the morning had moved her strangely. One human being on the verge of death; the impulsive, impetuous, reckless self-sacrifice of another in his cause, though unknown to him; his imminent danger, and the ultimate safety of both! If that other should live, what a bond of gratitude, a tie strong as life itself, would bind him for ever henceforth to his hitherto unknown benefactor !

She felt her blood stirring with a new impulse, felt her soul kindling with new feelings, with new enthusiasm, with new truth. It seemed to Margaret like a beautiful poem, such as she had read of the olden time, only infinitely more beautiful, because it was true, and because she had seen it. She had seen the dazzling river, the danger, and then the two lives trembling in the balance. How much she should like to know the people! But that she never should. Her life was so different, so quiet, so solitary. True, her father knew Frau Senden, but when he went to Sonnenfels he always went alone. ‘True, Frau Senden had often promised to come to their house to hear Margaret play, but then she never had come. No; Margaret could never see nearer those lives that had let in such a sudden glimpse of glory on her vision. So she left the river feeling very sad, and with a very full’ heart; another life, heroic and beautiful, unselfish and full of action for others, had been shown to her, but only at a distance, and it was closed in reality to her and to her effort, as much as the heavy gates that closed behind her shut out from the courtyard the town and the busy street,