A Love Story Part 39

The two friends, for such they might now be styled, walked towards the castle, arm in arm; and stood on the terrace, adorned with headless statues, and backed by a part of the mouldering ruin, half hid by the thick ivy.

They looked down on the many winding river, murmuringly gliding through its vine covered banks.

Beyond this, stretched a wide expanse of country; while beneath them lay the town of Heidelberg--the blue smoke hanging over it like a magic diadem.

"Here, here!" said Carl Obers, as he gazed on the scene, with mournful sensations, "_here _ were my youthful visions conceived and embodied--_here_ did I form vows, to break the bonds of enslaved mankind--_here_ did I dream of grateful thousands, standing erect for the first time as free men--_here_ did I brood over, the possible happiness of my fellow men, and in attempting to realise it, have wrecked my own."

"My kind friend!" replied Delme, "your error, if it be such, has been of the head, and not the heart. It is one, natural to your age and your country. Far from being irreparable, it is possible it may have taught you a lesson, that may ultimately greatly benefit you. This is the first time we have conversed regarding your prospects. What are your present views?"

"I have none. My friends regard me as one, who has improvidently thrown away his chance of advancement. My knowledge of any _one_ branch of science is so superficial, that this precludes my ever hoping to succeed in a learned profession. I cannot enter the military service in my own country, without commencing in the lowest grade. This I can hardly bring my mind to."

"What would you say to the Hanoverian army?" replied Delme.

"I would say," rejoined Carl: "for I see through your kind motive in asking, that I esteem myself fortunate, if I have been in any way useful to you; but that I cannot, and ought not, to think, of accepting a favour at your hands."

Sir Henry said no more at that time: and they reached the inn in silence.

Delme retired for the night. Carl Obers sought his old chums; and, exhilarated by his meershaum, and the excellent beer--rivalling the famous Lubeck beer, sent to Martin Luther, during his trial, by the Elector of Saxony--triumphantly placed "young Germany" at the head of nations.

Early the following morning, they were again en route.

They pa.s.sed through Manheim, where the Rhine and Neckar meet,--through Erpach,--through Darmstadt, that cleanest of Continental towns,--and finally reached Frankfort-on-the-Maine, where it was agreed that Sir Henry and Thompson were to part from their travelling companions.

Sir Henry in his distress of mind, felt that theirs was not a casual farewell. On reaching the quay, he pressed the student's hand with grateful warmth, but dared not trust to words.

On the deck of the steamer, a.s.sisting Thompson to arrange the portmanteaux, stood Pietro Molini.

The natural gaiety of the old driver had received a considerable check at George's death.

He could not now meet Sir Henry, without an embarra.s.sment of manner; and even in his intercourse with Thompson, his former jocularity seemed to have deserted him.

"Good bye, Pietro!" said Delme, extending his hand. "I trust we may one day or other meet again."

The vetturino grasped it,--his colour went and came,--he looked down at his whip,--then felt in his vest for his pipe, As he saw Delme turn towards the p.o.o.p, and as Thompson warned him it was time to leave the vessel,--his feelings fairly gave way.

He threw his arms round the Englishman's neck and blubbered like a child.

We have elsewhere detailed the luckless end of the vetturino.

As for Carl Obers, that zealous patriot; the last we heard of him, was that he was holding a commission in the Hanoverian Jagers, obtained for him by Sir Henry's intervention. He was at that period, in high favour with that liberal monarch, King Ernest.

Chapter XIII.

Home.

"'Tis sweet to hear the watchdog's honest bark Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home, 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come."

Embarking on its tributary stream, Delme reached the Rhine--pa.s.sed through the land of snug Treckschut, and wooden-shoed housemaid--and arrived at Rotterdam, whence he purposed sailing for England.

To that river, pay we no pa.s.sing tribute! The Rhine--with breast of pride--laving fertile vineyards, cities of picturesque beauty, beetling crags, and majestic ruins; hath found its bard to hymn an eulogy, in matchless strains, which will be co-existent, with the language they adorn.

Sir Henry was once more on the wide sea. Where were they who were his companions when his vessel last rode it? where the young bride breathing her devotion? where the youthful husband whispering his love?

The sea yet glistened like a chrysolite; the waves yet laughed in the playful sunbeams--the bright-eyed gull yet dipped his wing in the billow, fearless as heretofore;--where was the one, who from that text had deduced so fair a moral?

Sir Henry wished not to dwell on the thought, but as it flashed across him, his features quivered, and his brow darkened.

He threw himself into the chaise which was to bear him to his home, with alternate emotions of bitterness and despair!

Hurrah for merry England! Click, clack! click, clack! thus cheerily let us roll!

Great are the joys of an English valet, freshly emanc.i.p.ated from sauerkraut, and the horrors of silence!

Sweet is purl, and sonorous is an English oath. Bright is the steel, arming each clattering hoof! Leather strap and s.h.i.+ning buckle, replace musty rope and ponderous knot! The carriage is easier than a Landgravine's,--the horses more sleek,--the driver as civil,--the road is like a bowling green,--the axletree and under-spring, of Collinge's latest patent. But the heart! the heart! _that_ may be sad still.

Delme's voyage and journey were alike a blank. On the ocean, breeze followed calm;--on the river, s.h.i.+p succeeded s.h.i.+p;--on the road, house and tree were pa.s.sed, and house and tree again presented themselves. He drew his cap over his eyes, and his arms continued folded.

His first moment of full consciousness, was as a sharp turn, followed by a sudden pause, brought him in front of the lodge at Delme.

On the two moss-grown pillars, reposed the well known crest of his family.

The porter's daughter, George's friend, issued from the lodge, and threw open the iron gates.

She was dressed in black. How this recalled his loss.

"My dear--dear--dear brother!"

Emily bounded to his embrace, and her cheek fell on his shoulder. He felt the warm tear trickle on his cheek. He clasped her waist,--gazed on her pallid brow,--and held her lip to his.

How it trembled from her emotion!

"My own brother! how pale--how ill you look!"

"Emily! my sister! I have something yet left me on earth! and my worthy kind aunt, too!"

He kissed Mrs. Glenallan's forehead, and tried to soothe her. She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, and checked her tears; but continued to sob, with the deep measured sob of age.

How mournful, yet how consoling, is the first family meeting, after death has swept away one of its members! How the presence of each, calls up sorrow, and yet a.s.sists to repress it,--awakes remembrances full of grief, yet brings to life indefinable hopes, that rob that grief of its most poignant sting! The very garb of woe, whose mournful effect is felt to the full, only when each one sees it worn by the other--the very garb paralyses, and brings impressively before us, the awful truth, that for our loss, in this world, there is no remedy. How holy, how chaste is the affection, which we feel disposed to lavish, on those who are left us.

Surely if there be a guardian spirit, which deigns to flit through this wayward world, to cheer the stricken breast, and purify feelings, whose every chord vibrates to the touch of woe; surely such presides, and throws a sunny halo, on the group, that blood has united--on which family love has shed its genial influence--and of which, each member, albeit bowed down by sympathetic grief, attempts to lift his drooping head, and to others open some source of comfort, which to the kind speaker, is inefficient and valueless indeed!

For many months, Sir Henry continued to reside with his family. Clarendon Gage was a constant visitor, and companion to the brother and sister in their daily walks and rides.

He had never met poor George, but loved Emily so well, that he could not but sympathise in their heavy loss; and as Delme noted this quiet sympathy, he felt deeply thankful to Providence, for the fair prospect of the happiness, that awaited his sister.