CHAPTER IX.
Baroness Harder and the Governor were closeted in solemn conclave. In the course of their interview Raven had made his sister-in-law fully aware of the relations existing between Gabrielle and Assessor Winterfeld, and the Baroness was almost beside herself with anger and indignation on hearing the news. She had really not had the slightest suspicion of how matters stood. It had never occurred to her that the young plebeian, fortuneless Assessor could raise his eyes to her daughter, still less that the girl could encourage so misplaced an affection. Gabrielle's future had ever been associated in her mother's mind with the idea of wealth and a brilliant position. Such a union as that now in question seemed to her as absurd as impossible, and she broke into a torrent of indignant complaint touching her daughter's giddy conduct, and the "mad presumption" of that young man, who supposed he had only to stretch out his hand to secure a Baroness Harder for himself.
Raven listened some time in sombre silence, but at length he cut short the exasperated lady's flow of words.
"Enough of these lamentations, Matilda. They will not alter the past by one jot. You, of all people, have least the right to lose your temper over this business, for the mischief occurred under your very eyes. The fact that it went so far as a declaration, that the two ever came to an understanding, argues a most unpardonable negligence on your part. Some steps must now be taken in the matter, and this is the point I wish to discuss with you."
"Ah, what a comfort it is that I have you at my side!" cried the Baroness, who, on principle and consistently, ignored her brother-in-law's attacks on herself. "I know that I have always given way too much to Gabrielle, and now she thinks she may behave to me as she likes. You, fortunately, have more authority over her. Act with firmness and severity, Arno. I myself implore it of you. Bounds must be set to the insolence of that young man; his pretensions must be checked. I will endeavour to make my daughter understand how completely she has forgotten herself and her station in life in listening to such proposals."
"There must be no reproaches," said the Baron, decidedly. "Gabrielle has already heard from me the view you and I take of the matter. Remonstrance and worry will only drive her to more and more determined resistance. Besides, this attachment of hers is not so absurd, nor the young man so wholly insignificant, as you suppose. On the contrary, I consider that the affair is very serious, and calls for immediate and energetic action. I hope it may yet be time for this to avail."
"Oh, that it certainly will--certainly!" chimed in Madame von Harder. "It is impossible that my childish, volatile Gabrielle should be so deeply, so seriously attached. She has been led away by the impressions of the moment, has had her head turned by all the romantic love-speeches she has heard. Young girls of her age are so apt to mix up the nonsense they read in novels with the affairs of real life. She will come to her senses by-and-by, and will see how foolishly she has acted."
"I hope so," said Raven; "and to bring this about, I have already taken measures to prevent any meeting between the two in future. It is for you to see that there is no interchange of letters, and I am persuaded, Matilda, that you will know how to withstand such prayers and tears as may be used to soften you, and that you will be guided solely by a regard for your daughter's future. You understand, of course, that my present intentions will not be carried into effect unless her conduct meets with my approval, unless her marriage is one that I can sanction. I am not inclined to reward an open opposition to my wishes by making a will in her favour, still less am I disposed to help Mr. Winterfeld to wealth and distinction by means of my fortune. Gabrielle is far too young and inexperienced to take such consideration into proper account. All the circumstances of the case are clearly before you, however, and therefore I feel sure of your co-operation."
The Baron was pursuing the wisest of tactics in pronouncing this most unequivocal threat. He was fully aware of Gabrielle's unlimited power over her mother, and of that lady's feebleness of character. Madame von Harder would often condemn in strong terms one day that to which on the morrow, by tears or by defiance, she would be brought to consent. His menace would prevent any weakness of this sort, and would, he felt certain, transform this foolishly indulgent mother into her daughter's most wary and vigilant guardian. The Baroness had turned quite pale at the bare mention of any possible alteration in the will.
"I shall fulfil my duty as a mother to the uttermost point," said she, solemnly. "Rest assured that I shall not allow myself to be deceived a second time."
The Baron stood up.
"And now I wish to see Gabrielle. She has kept her room since yesterday on the plea of illness, but I know that is only a pretext to avoid me. Tell her that I am waiting for her here."
The Baroness complied with her brother-in-law's request. She went, and a few minutes later returned in her daughter's company.
"May I ask you to leave us for a short time, Matilda?" said Raven.
"You wish----"
"I wish you to leave me and Gabrielle alone for a quarter of an hour."
The Baroness was hardly able to conceal her mortification. Beyond all doubt she had the first and best right to be present at the coming scene between judge and culprit, and yet the Baron, with that utter disregard for her feelings which he always showed, now sent her away, and reserved to himself alone the important decision, disrespectfully ignoring her maternal claims. If the lady had not cherished so lively a fear of her brother-in-law, she would this time have rebelled against his will; but his tone and general bearing seemed to say that to-day, even less than on other days, would he brook contradiction; so she submitted, or rather, as she expressed it to herself, in anguish of heart she yielded to his cruel tyranny.
The Baron remained alone with Gabrielle, She lingered at the farther end of the room, and he waited in vain for her to approach.
"Gabrielle!"
She advanced now a few steps, but stopped in evident timidity and distrust. Raven went up to her.
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked.
She shook her head negatively.
"Then why do you shrink from me? Why are you so shy and silent? Have I really been so harsh to you that you wish to avoid me?"
"I have really been unwell," replied Gabrielle, in a low voice.
The Baron scanned the youthful countenance before him, which was, indeed, far less rosy and fresh than usual. A shadow lay on it, a trace of some lurking trouble or anxiety very foreign to the wonted expression of that bright, sunny face.
Raven took the young girl's hand. He felt that it trembled and sought to disengage itself from his grasp; but he held it notwithstanding, held it firmly, yet without any friendly pressure, and his voice was cold and quiet as he spoke.
"I know what alarmed you at our last interview. Dissimulation would be useless, I feel; but you have nothing more to fear--it is over already. I require from you the sacrifice of a youthful inclination, and I must, first of all, show you by example how such sentiments may be overcome. I have been tempted occasionally to lose sight of the difference existing between your years and mine. You have recalled to me in time that youth willingly consorts with youth alone, and I thank you for the reminder. Forget that which was revealed to you in an unguarded moment. Nothing shall occur to alarm you again. I have fought down graver and deeper troubles, and I am accustomed to subordinate my feelings to my will. The dream is over, for I have determined that over it must be."
As he spoke, Gabrielle had raised her eyes to his face, and they still dwelt there, full of timid, doubting inquiry, but she made no answer. Her hand slid unresistingly to her side as he released it.
"And now take confidence in me again, child," continued Raven. "If I am severe to you in this matter of your love, believe that I am moved only by a sense of my duty as a guardian responsible for the welfare of an inexperienced young girl committed to his charge. Will you promise this?"
"Yes, Uncle Arno." Lingeringly, and with an accent of strange constraint, the name came from the young girl's lips. The old freedom and self-possession with which she had hitherto approached her "Uncle Arno" was gone, never to return.
"I have spoken to Assessor Winterfeld," Raven began again; "and have made known to him that I refuse, in the most decided manner, my consent to your engagement. This decision is irrevocable, for I know that such a union would, after the first fleeting illusions were dissipated, be productive of much care and bitter regret to you, and for your sake I must and will prevent it. You have been brought up with aristocratic notions, and with habits suitable to your rank; you are accustomed to wealth and luxury, and will never feel at home in another sphere. At the best, Winterfeld could only offer you the most simple domestic life and very moderate means. Such a marriage would entail on you a dreary, obscure existence, and daily, hourly privations, for you must necessarily leave behind you those comforts which have been so dear, so indispensable to you hitherto. There may be in the world characters strong enough to brave all this, boldly to enter on a course of ceaseless, unwearying self-abnegation. You are not equal to such heroism: to endure it you would need to transform your whole nature; and I have let the Assessor feel what egotism he would be guilty of, were he to require such sacrifices from you."
"He only asks me to endure them for a few years," interposed Gabrielle. "George Winterfeld is but at the beginning of his career. He will work his way up, as you yourself have done."
Raven shrugged his shoulders.
"It may be, or it may be not. He certainly is not one of those men who take fortune by storm; he will, at best, conquer, win success by persistent quiet labour. But for this long years are needed, and above all, he must be free, independent, as he is at present. Family cares, and the thousand ties and considerations with which they shackle a man, would leave him no space for the development of his talents and of his ambitious projects. He would fall into the every-day routine of one who works only to live, and, so falling, would be lost to all higher aims. In this fate you, of course, would be involved. You do not realise what it is to be dependent for your living on a sum hardly greater than that which now defrays the expenses of your toilet. I must save you from a practical experience of that most painful of ideals--love in a cottage."
A tear glistened in Gabrielle's eye as her guardian thus, with steady, unsparing hand, drew the picture of her future lot; but she defended her position courageously.
"You have no faith left in any ideal," said she. "You told me yourself that you looked on this world, and all men in it, with contempt. We still believe in love and happiness, and therefore they may be in store for us. George never thought of proposing to me to marry him at once. He knows that is impossible; but in four years I shall be of age, and he will have attained to a higher position. Then I shall be his wife, and no one will have the right to separate us, nobody in the world."
She spoke rapidly, and with a hurried, passionate intensity very new to her; but the old obstinate defiance had died out of her voice. This was not rebellion; it was rather a half-unconscious, anxious striving against that strange sensation she had once tried to express in words, confessing to her mother that there was about the Baron some subtle, secret influence which troubled her, and against which she felt she must defend herself at all hazards. To-day she sought a refuge and a shield in her love for George, and this undefinable sense of danger it was which lent such warmth and eagerness to her words.
A bitter smile played about Raven's lips.
"You appear to have most precise knowledge as to the extent of my authority," he replied. "It has, no doubt, been sufficiently explained to you--we study law to some purpose! Well, let the matter stand over until you come of age. If you then repeat to me the words you have spoken to-day, I shall make no further attempt to stop you, though from that day forth our roads will lie apart. Until then, however, no hasty promise, no imaginary fetters, shall bind you; and to this end it is necessary that Winterfeld should be kept at a distance. Meanwhile, you are absolutely free, free to accept the suit of any one whose rank in life and personal advantages entitle him to approach you. I shall not refuse to sanction any equal match--that is what I wished to say to you."
He spoke gravely and quietly. There was no unsteadiness in his voice, not the slightest quiver about his lips, to betray how much the engagement cost him. He had determined that the dream should be over, and Arno Raven looked a man strong enough to make good his word. This disciplinarian governed himself with a dominion as despotic as that he exercised over others. Neither to his passions nor to his enemies would he make surrender.
He opened the door of the adjoining room, where the Baroness was sitting. That lady, to her great vexation, had been unable to catch a word of the interview, owing to the thickness of the portières, which effectually stifled every sound.
"We have done, Matilda," said the Baron. "I now give over your daughter to your charge; but, once again, no reproaches--I will not have them. Good-morning, Gabrielle."