The Daltons Volume II Part 55

"My desire for this meeting. General, proceeds from my wish to exculpate myself from what may seem to have been an unqualified wrong done to a member of your family. I am Prince Alexis Midchekoff."

Auersberg started from his chair at the words, and bent a look of angry indignation at the speaker,--an expression which the Russian bore with the very calmest unconcern.

"If I am to resume this explanation," said he, coldly, "it must be when you have reseated yourself, and will condescend to hear me suitably."

"And who is to be my guarantee, sir, that I am not to listen to an insult?" cried the old General, pa.s.sionately. "I see before me the man who has outraged the honor of my house. You know well, sir, the customs of your nation, and that you had no right to accept a lady's hand in betrothal without the permission of your Emperor."

"I was certain to obtain it," was the calm answer.

"So certain that it has been refused,----peremptorily, flatly refused."

"Very true, General. The refusal came at my own especial request. Nay, sir, I need not tell you these words convey no insulting meaning,--but hear me patiently, before you p.r.o.nounce. The facts are briefly these. It came to my knowledge that this young lady's acceptance of me proceeded entirely from considerations of fortune,--that she had been greatly influenced by others, and strongly urged to do that which might, at the sacrifice of herself, benefit her family. These considerations were not very flattering to me personally; but I should have overlooked them, trusting to time and fortune for the result, had I not also learnt that her affections were bestowed upon another,----a young Englishman, with whom she had been for some time domesticated, whose picture she possessed, and from whom she had received letters."

"Am I to take this a.s.sertion on trust?" cried the General.

"By no means, sir. This is the picture, and here is one of the letters.

I know not if there have been many others, nor can I say whether she has replied to them. It was enough for me that I discovered I had no claim on her affection, and that our marriage would bring only misery on both sides. To have disclosed these facts before the world would of course have exculpated me, but have injured _her_. I therefore took what I deemed a more delicate course, and, by providing for the Imperial refusal, I solved a difficulty that must otherwise have involved her in deep reproach." The Prince waited some seconds for the General to speak; but the old man stood like one stunned and stupefied, unable to utter a word. At last Midchekoff resumed: "My master fixed a sum of eighty thousand roubles to which I at once a.s.sented, as a settlement on Mademoiselle de Dalton; but this, I grieve to say, she has peremptorily rejected."

"Has she----has she done this?" cried the old Count. "Then, by St.

Stephen! she is my own dear child forever; come what may, there is no disgrace can attach to her."

"I had hoped, sir," said Midchekoff, "that you might have seen this matter as I did, and that I might have counted on your advocating what is simply a measure of justice."

"I know little of the extent to which money reparations can atone for injured feelings or wounded honor. My life has never supplied even a single lesson on that score. All I see here is, an injury on either side. _Your_ fault, I think, has been properly expiated; and as for _hers_, I want no other justification than what you have told me. Now, where is she? When may I see her?"

"I had given orders for her return to Vienna, with the intention of placing her under your charge; but some mistake has occurred, and her departure has been delayed. A second courier has, however, been despatched, and ere this she will have left St. Petersburg."

"You have acted well throughout, Prince," said the old General, "and I shall owe you my grat.i.tude for the remainder of my life; not for the delicacy of your reserve, still less for the generous character of your intentions, but because you have shown me that this girl has a highhearted sense of honor, and is a thorough Dalton." The old man's eyes filled up with tears, and he had to turn away to hide his emotion.

Midchekoff rose to withdraw, affecting to busy himself with the papers on the table, while Auersberg was recovering his self-possession. This did not, however, seem an easy task; for the old General, forgetting everything save Kate, leaned his head on his hands, and was lost in thought.

The Prince respected his emotion, and withdrew in silence.

So much was the old General von Auersberg absorbed in his interest for Kate, that he had not a thought to bestow upon the immediate affairs before him. It was scarcely a few weeks since he had received a few lines from herself, telling of the Emperor's refusal, and asking for his advice. It needed all his long-pledged devotion to monarchy to enable him to read the lines without an outbreak of pa.s.sion; and his first impulse was to seek out the man who had so grossly insulted his house, and challenge him to single combat. Later reflection showed him that this would be to arraign the conduct of the Emperor, and to call in question the judgment of a crowned head. While agitated by these opposite considerations, there came another and scarcely less sad epistle to his hand; and if the writer was wanting in those claims to station and rank which had such hold upon his heart, her touching words and simple style moved him to emotions that for many a year seemed to have slept within him.

It was Nelly's account of her father's death, told in her own unpretending words, and addressed to one whom she recognized as the head of her house. She dwelt with grat.i.tude on the old Count's kindness, and said how often her father had recurred to the thought of his protection and guidance to Frank, when the time should come that would leave him fatherless. It seemed as if up to this point she had written calmly and collectedly, expressing herself in respectful distance to one so much above her. No sooner, however, had she penned Frank's name, than all this reserve gave way before the gus.h.i.+ng torrent of her feelings, and she proceeded:----

"And oh! sir, is not the hour come when that protection is needed? Is not my poor brother a prisoner, charged with a terrible offence--no less than treason to his Emperor? You, who are yourself a great soldier, can say if such is like to be the crime of one well born, generous, and n.o.ble as Frank, whose heart ever overflowed to all who served him, and who, in all the reckless buoyancy of youth, never forgot his honor. Crafty and designing men--if such there may have been around him--might possibly have thrown their snares over him; but no persuasion nor seductions could have made him a traitor. 'See what the Kaiser has made Count Stephen!' were some of the last lines he ever wrote to me, 'and, perhaps, one day, another Dalton will stand as high in the favor of his master.' His whole heart and soul were in his soldier life. You, sir, were his guide-star, and, thinking of you, how could he have dreamed of disloyalty? They tell me that in troubled times like these, when many have faltered in their allegiance, such accusations are rarely well inquired into, and that courts-martial deal peremptorily with the prisoners; but you will not suffer mv brother to be thus tried and judged. You will remember that he is a stranger in that land, an orphan, a mere boy, too; friendless,--no, no, not friendless, forgive me the ungracious word; he who bears your name, and carries in his veins your blood, cannot be called friendless.. you will say, perhaps, how defend him?--how reply to charges which will be made with all the force of witness and circ.u.mstance? I answer, hear his own story of himself; he never told a lie--remember that, Count- -from his infancy upwards! we, who lived with and about him, know that he never told a lie! If the accusation be just-- and oh! may G.o.d avert this calamity--Frank will say so. He will tell how and when and why this poison of disaffection entered his heart; he will trace out his days of temptation and struggle and fall, without a shadow of concealment; and if this sad time is to come, even then do not desert him.

Bethink you of his boyhood, his warm, ardent nature, burning for some field of glorious enterprise, and dazzled by visions of personal distinction. How could he judge the knotted questions which agitate the deepest minds of great thinkers? A mere pretence, a well-painted scene of oppression or sufferance, might easily enlist the sympathies of a boy whose impulses have more than once made him bestow on the pa.s.sing beggar the little h.o.a.rdings of weeks. And yet, with all these, he is not guilty,--I never can believe that he could be! Oh, sir, you know not, as I know, how treason in him would be like a living falsehood; how the act of disloyalty would be the utter denial of all those dreams of future greatness which, over our humble fireside, were his world! To serve the Kaiser,--the same gracious master who had rewarded and enn.o.bled our great kinsman,--to win honors and distinctions that should rival his; to make our ancient name hold a high place in the catalogue of chivalrous soldiers,--these were Frank's ambitions. If you but knew how we, his sisters, weak and timid girls, seeking the quiet paths of life, where our insignificance might easiest be shrouded,--if you knew how we grew to feel the ardor that glowed in his heart, and actually caught up the enthusiasm that swelled the young soldier's bosom! you have seen the world well and long; and, I ask, is this the clay of which traitors are fas.h.i.+oned? Be a father to him, then, who has none; and may G.o.d let you feel all the happiness a child's affection can bestow in return! "We are a sad heritage, Sir Count! for I now must plead for another, not less a prisoner than my poor brother. Kate is in a durance which, if more splendid, is sad as his. The ceremony of betrothal--which, if I am rightly told, is a mere ceremonial--has consigned her to a distant land and a life of dreary seclusion. There is no longer a reason for this.

The sacrifice that she was willing to make can now confer no benefit on him who sleeps in the churchyard. The Prince has shown towards her a degree of indifference which will well warrant this breach. There was no affection on either side, and it would be but to ratify a falsehood to pledge fidelity. You alone have influence to effect this. She will hear your counsels, and follow them with respect, and the Prince will scarcely oppose what his conduct seems to favor.

This done, Sir Count, let Kate be your daughter; and oh! in all the glory of your great successes, what have you gained to compare with this? She loves you already--she has told me of the affectionate gentleness of your manner, the charm of your chivalrous sentiments, and a n.o.bility marked by every word and every gesture. Think, then, of the untaught devotion of such a child--your own by blood and adoption-- loving, tending, and ministering to you. Think of the proud beating of your heart as she leans upon your arm, and think of the happiness, as she throws around your solitary fireside all the charm of a home! How seldom is it that generosity doubles itself in its reward, but here it will be so. You will be loved, and you will be happy. With two such children, guided by your influence and elevated by your example, what would be your happiness, and what their fortune?"

In all these pleadings for those she loved so dearly, no allusion ever was made by her to her own condition. A few lines at the very end of the letter were all that referred to herself. They were couched in words of much humility, excusing herself for the boldness of the appeal she had made, and apologizing for the hardihood with which it might be said she had urged her request.

"But you will forgive--you have already forgiven me, Sir Count," wrote she; "my unlettered style and my trembling fingers have shown you that this task must have lain near to my heart, or I had not dared to undertake it. My life has been spent in a sphere of humble duties and humble companions.h.i.+p. How easily, then, may I have transgressed the limits of the deference that should separate us! I can but answer for my own heart, within which there exists towards you but the one feeling of devotion--deep and hopeful.

"If in your kindness you should ever bestow a thought upon me, you will like to know that I am well and happy. Too lowly in condition, too rude in manners, to share the fortune of those I love so dearly, I would yet delight to hear of and from them, to know that they still bear me in their affection, and think with fondness on poor lame Nelly.

Even the blessing of their presence would not repay me for the wrong I should do them by my companions.h.i.+p, for I am a peasant girl as much from choice as nature. Still, the sister's heart throbs strongly within the coa.r.s.e bodice, and, as I sit at my work, Frank and Kate will bear me company and cheer my solitary hours.

"My humble skill is amply sufficient to supply all my wants, were they far greater than habit has made them. I live in a land dear to me by a.s.sociations of thought and feeling, surrounded by those of a condition like my own, and who love and regard me. I am not without my share of duties, too,---- your kindness would not wish more for me. Farewell, then, Sir Count. Your high-hearted nature has taught you to tread a lofty path in life, and strive--and with great success-- for the great rewards of merit. It will be a pleasure to you yet to know that in this country of your adoption there are humble prizes for humble aspirants, and that one of these has fallen to the lot of

"Nelly Dalton.

"Any letter addressed 'To the care of Andreas Brennen, Juden Ga.s.se, Innspruck,' will reach me safely. I need not say with what grat.i.tude I should receive it."

Such were the lines which reached the old Count's hand on the very day he set out with his detachment for Vienna. Overcome by shame and sorrow at what he believed to be Frank Dalton's treason, he had demanded of the Minister of War his own act of retirement from the army, and for some months had pa.s.sed a life of privacy in a little village on the Styrian frontier. The wide-spread disaffection of the Austrian provinces, the open revolt of Prague, the more than threatening aspect of Hungary, and the formidable struggle then going on in Lombardy, had called back into active life almost all the retired servants of the monarchy. To give way to private grief at such a moment seemed like an act of disloyalty, and, throwing off every mere personal consideration, the old soldier repaired to the capital, and presented himself at the levee of the Archduke Joseph. He was received with enthusiasm. Covered with years as he was, no man enjoyed more of the confidence and respect of the soldiery, who regarded him as one tried and proved by the great wars of the Empire,--a Colonel of Wagram was both a patriarch and a hero. It was of great consequence, too, at that precise conjuncture, to rally round the throne all that were distinguished for fealty and devotion. He was immediately appointed to the command of a division of the army, and ordered to set out for Italy.

The complicated nature of the politics of the period, the mixture of just demand and armed menace, the blending up of fair and reasonable expectations with impracticable or impossible concessions, had so disturbed the minds of men that few were able, by their own unaided judgment, to distinguish on which side lay right and justice; nor was it easy, from the changeful councils of the monarch, to know whether the loyalty of to-day might not be p.r.o.nounced treason to-morrow. Many of the minor movements of the time--even the great struggle of the Hungarians--originated in a spontaneous burst of devotion to the Emperor,--to be afterwards converted by the dark and wily policy of an unscrupulous leader into open rebellion. No wonder, then, if in such difficult and embarra.s.sing circ.u.mstances, many strayed unconsciously from the paths of duty,--some misled by specious dreams of nationality, others from sympathy with what they thought the weaker party; and others, again, by the force of mere companions.h.i.+p or contact. In this way few families were to be found where one or more had not joined the patriotic party, and all the ties of affection were weak in comparison with the headlong force of popular enthusiasm. The old General von Auersberg knew nothing of these great changes; no news of them had reached his retirement; so that when he rejoined the army he was shocked to see how many had fallen away and deserted from the ancient standard of the Kaiser. Many a high name and many an ancient t.i.tle were more than suspected amongst the Hungarian n.o.bility; while in Italy they who most largely enjoyed the confidence of the Government were to be found in the ranks of the insurgents.

It might be supposed that these things would have in some degree reconciled the old Count to the imputed treason of his nephew, and that he would have found some consolation at least in the generality of the misfortune. Not so, however. His mind viewed the matter in a different light. He was willing to concede much to mistaken feelings of nationality, and to a.s.sociations with a time of former independence; but these motives could have no relation to one who came into the service as he himself and Frank did,--soldiers by the grace and favor of the Emperor.

The blot this treason left upon his name was then a sore affliction to one whose whole aim in life had been to transmit an honorable reputation and an unshaken fidelity behind him. His reasoning was thus: "_We_ have no claims of ancient services to the monarchy to adduce,----_our_ ancestors never proved their devotion to the House of Hapsburg in times past,--we must be taken for what our own deeds stamp us." With this decisive judgment he was ready to see Frank delivered before a court, tried and sentenced, without offering one word in his behalf. "This done," thought he, "it remains but for me to show that I have made the only expiation in my power, and paid with my heart's blood for another's fault."

Such was the resolve with which he crossed the Alps,--a resolve defeated for the moment by discovering that Frank was no longer a prisoner, but had made his escape in some unexplained manner on the eventful day of Goito.

This disappointment, and the still sadder tidings of the Emperor's withheld permission to Kate's marriage, came to his ears the same day,--the most sorrowful, perhaps, of his whole life. His honorable fame as a soldier tarnished, his high ambition for a great alliance dashed by disappointment, he fell back for consolation upon poor Nelly's letter.

The weak point of his character had ever been a dread of what he called his Irish cousins; the notion that his successes and supposed wealth would draw upon him a host of hungry and importunate relatives, eager to profit by the hard-won honors of his unaided career. And although year after year rolled on, and no sign was made, nor any token given, that he was remembered in the land of his forefathers, the terror was still fresh in his mind; and when at last Peter Dalton's letter reached him, he read the lines in a torrent of anger,--the acc.u.mulation of long years of antic.i.p.ation. Nelly's epistle was a complete enigma to him. She was evidently unprotected, and yet not selfish; she was in the very humblest circ.u.mstances, and never asked for a.s.sistance; she was feelingly alive to every sorrow of her brother and sister, and had not one thought for her own calamities. What could all this mean?--was it any new phase or form of supplication, or was it really that there did exist one in the world whose poverty was above wealth, and whose simple nature was more exalted than rank or station?

With all these conflicting thoughts, and all the emotions which succeeded to the various tidings he had heard, the old Count sat overwhelmed by the cares that pressed upon him; nor was it for some hours after Midchekoff's departure that he could rally his faculties to be "up and doing."

The buzz and murmur of voices in an outer room first recalled him to active thought, and he learned that several officers, recently exchanged, had come to offer their thanks for his kind intervention. The duty, which was a mere ceremony, pa.s.sed over rapidly, and he was once more alone, when he heard the slow and heavy tread of a foot ascending the stairs, one by one, stopping at intervals, too, as though the effort was one of great labor. Like the loud ticking of a clock to the watchful ears of sickness, there was something in the measured monotony of the sounds that grated and jarred his irritated nerves, and he called out harshly:

"Who comes there?"

No answer was returned; and, after a pause of a few seconds, the same sound recurred.

"Who's there?" cried the old man, louder; and a faint, inaudible attempt at reply followed.

And now, provoked by the interruption, he arose to see the cause; when the door slowly opened, and Frank stood before him, pale and bloodless, with one arm in a sling, and supporting himself on a stick with the other. His wasted limbs but half filled his clothes; while in his l.u.s.treless eye and quivering lip there seemed the signs of coming death.

With an instinct of kindness, the old General drew out a chair and pressed the poor boy down upon it. The youth kissed the hand as it touched him, and then heaved a heavy sigh.

"This exertion was unfit for you, my poor boy," said the Count, kindly.

"They should not have permitted you to leave your bed."

"It was my fault, not theirs, General. I heard that you were about to leave the village without coming to the hospital, and I thought, as perhaps----," here his voice faltered, and a gulping fulness of the throat seemed almost to choke him--"that as, perhaps, we might never meet again in this world, I ought to make one effort to see you, and tell you that I am not, nor ever was, a traitor!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: 380]

As though the effort had exhausted all "his strength, his arms dropped as he said the words; his head fell forward, and he would have fallen to the ground had not the old General caught him in his arms.

"You are too weak, too ill for all this, my poor fellow." said the Count, as he held the boy's hand in his own, and gazed affectionately at him.

"True, ever true," muttered the youth, with half-closed lids.

"I will hear all this when you are better, Frank; when you are strong, and able to declare it manfully and openly. I will bless you, with my heart's warmest blessing, for the words that restore us both to fair fame and honor; but you must not speak more now."