No Surrender

by E. Werner

CHAPTER XIX.

"Well, thank God this wretched business has come to a satisfactory end at last. It made me desperate to think I was the cause of it. I congratulate you with all my heart on your release, father."

So saying, Max Brunnow warmly embraced his father, who replied with a half smile:

"It was not an altogether unexpected solution of the question. I received a pretty plain hint some time ago from the Superintendent himself."

"But the press has worked valiantly in your behalf," said Max. "All the papers clamoured for a pardon, and from the very first day the public eagerly espoused your cause."

This conversation took place in the apartments formerly inhabited by Assessor Winterfeld, which that gentleman, on his sudden departure from R----, had made over to his friend. On his recovery, Max had returned to these quarters, and had this morning brought home to them his father, whose release from imprisonment now filled him with joy. The notice of Brunnow's liberation, an act of clemency confidently expected by the nation at large, had been received with general and loudly-expressed satisfaction. In high places it had been agreed to overlook the Doctor's obstinacy, which would not stoop to a petition, would not allow him to move hand or foot in his own behalf--a full and free pardon had been vouchsafed to him. Nevertheless he had the appearance of being depressed and careworn; he was very pale, and evidently ill in mind and body.

Max, on the other hand, was absolutely his own old self. His vigorous constitution had, as he prophesied, enabled him rapidly to recover from the effects of his accident, of which the fresh scar on his forehead was now the sole reminder. One change was noticeable in him, however. The young man's manner to his father, somewhat curt, formerly, and unsympathetic, was now marked by an affectionate and respectful deference. He felt deeply the proof of devotion his father had given him, and Brunnow, for his part, had grown aware how dear his son really was to his paternal heart. That hour in the sick-room had transformed the cold and distant relations existing between the two, had roused within them genuine affection, and brought about a thorough understanding.

"But now to other matters," said Max, changing the subject. "I have a confession to make to you. Look at me well, father. Do you remark nothing extraordinary about me?"

Brunnow inspected him from head to foot with some curiosity.

"No; only that you have got well with extraordinary promptitude. I remark nothing else."

Max drew himself up with much dignity, took a step forward, threw out his chest, and announced with complacency, "I am an engaged man."

"An engaged man? You?" repeated the Doctor, in surprise.

"Yes; I have sustained the character some weeks now. There has been too much at stake for us all of late, I could not worry you with my love-affairs. But now that you are safe and at liberty, I must ask for your approval and consent. You already know my future wife--I mean Councillor Moser's daughter."

"What, not the young girl who gave me my information as to your state of health? Impossible!"

"Why impossible? Does not Agnes please you?"

"I did not say so, but that delicate white maiden with those dreamy dark eyes cannot surely be to your taste. And then her strange nun-like dress! I took her for a sister of mercy who had been called in to nurse you."

"She wants to go into a convent, she says," declared Max. "I shall have to fight a round battle with the lady abbess, the father confessor, and half-a-dozen reverends, before we two are joined together in matrimony."

"But, Max!" interrupted his father.

"Agnes is extremely delicate, sickly even," went on Max; "but there is nothing really serious the matter with her--mere nervous excitement. I shall soon make her hearty, or what am I a doctor for? She knows nothing about housekeeping, unfortunately."

"Well, as you are carrying out your marriage programme so faithfully," put in Brunnow, in a jesting tone, "how does it stand with the first, the principal clause--with the fortune you declared to be indispensable?"

The young surgeon looked a little disconcerted.

"Bah! I have found out that is not necessary. Do you think I can't provide for my wife and my home expenses? I certainly cannot reckon on any fortune here."

"Well, I must say you go very consistently to work," exclaimed his father. "All this is in direct contradiction to the views you have hitherto expressed. What has come to you, my good fellow?"

Max heaved a deep sigh.

"I don't know; but I believe the germ of idealism is sprouting in me. You have all your life been striving in vain to convert me. Agnes managed it in a few weeks; and as you have always found me painfully deficient in sentiment, I hope you will be enchanted at the change."

The Doctor appeared anything but enchanted. He looked on his son's conversion to idealistic doctrines with evident distrust.

"But, Max," he said, shaking his head, "this won't do at all. A young girl, brought up with convent notions, inclined to religious enthusiasm, the daughter of a bureaucrat of the purest water--how can you transplant this tender plant into our midst? how can you accustom her to our ways and habits of thought? Reflect----"

"I don't mean to reflect--I mean to get married," interrupted Max. "Everything you can say in the way of objection, I have said to myself a hundred times, or more; but it has never been of any good. I must have Agnes--and have her I will, if I am driven to take all the obstacles, our papa the Councillor and his white cravat included, by storm!"

"Ah, yes, the Councillor!" interposed Brunnow. "What does he say to this business?"

"Nothing at present, because he knows nothing at all about it. As a matter of course, I could not ask him for his daughter's hand while you were incarcerated as an offender against the State. But now I shall delay my suit no longer. He will kick me out at once, or at least he will manifest the gracious intention of so doing; but it is not an easy thing to make me quit a position I desire to maintain. I can stand my ground as well as anyone. You need not look so grave, father. I assure you, when you get to know Agnes, you will admit this engagement of mine is the best piece of business I ever did in my life."

The Doctor was forced to smile, in spite of himself.

"We will wait and see; but if, as seems probable, you have to encounter any lengthened resistance from the father of your betrothed, I shall hardly see much of her on this occasion. I start for home the day after to-morrow."

"Oh, do give up that notion, I beg of you," insisted Max. "Why not wait until I can accompany you? Our law business is now happily over; but there is still much to be settled. For instance, a purchaser has come forward for our cousin's estate, and it would be far better that he should discuss the details with you personally."

"No, no," returned Brunnow, parrying the argument. "You have full authority to act, and are much better qualified to settle these practical matters than I am, I want to get away as soon as possible."

"Upon my word, father, I do not understand you," declared Max. "You have sighed so long for your native land, and now that it is open to you once again, you seem absolutely to fly from it."

Brunnow was sitting with his head wearily resting on his two hands. The look of pain in his careworn face was more striking than ever, as he replied:

"I have become a stranger in my own land. And do you think it would be agreeable to me to be called on for my testimony as to Raven's past, to which these disclosures have directed public attention? I must answer, if I were asked; and I will not be interrogated on the subject--at all events, not here."

"Why not?" asked Max. "You have always expressed yourself in the bitterest terms with regard to the Baron and his pernicious mode of government: you have spoken of his fall as a necessity of the times; and now, when, according to all appearances, this fall is imminent, you will not lend a hand to hasten it!"

"Say no more. Max," said the Doctor, sadly. "You do not know how hard a thing it is to have to aim a mortal blow at the man who was once a well-beloved friend. I hoped Winterfeld would have carried his point; but I should have known Arno Raven better. He held his ground, clever as was the adversary--held it to his own undoing. At that time it was open to him to yield, to retire; now he falls--falls disgraced and branded as a traitor! This, to a nature such as his, is to die a thousand deaths. I"--here Brunnow rose impetuously--"I will not be the one to deal out the last stroke. Let those who began the work go through with it to the bitter end. I have made up my mind to start the day after to-morrow."

Max insisted no further.

"It will be some weeks before I am able to follow you, I expect," he observed, after a pause. "I shall not leave R---- until our engagement is ratified and officially made known--until I have secured the Councillor's consent, and can feel sure that Agnes is safe from all worrying interference on the part of her spiritual guardians. But, in the first place, may I count on your support and approval?"

He held out his hand to his father, who took it in his own, and responded cordially without a moment's hesitation.

"I have only seen your affianced wife once; but the very fact that her appearance then charmed and interested me, made me think it impossible you should have been attracted towards her. Our tastes have hitherto differed so widely. Any doubt on my part springs from this alone: I see so great a difference of character and education. If you think you can overcome these difficulties, my son ... all I wish is to know that you are happy."

A warm pressure of the hand confirmed these words; and Max cried triumphantly:

"Now I will go to the Councillor, and drive that most loyal subject of a most gracious sovereign to distraction, by suggesting myself, a rampant demagogue, as a son-in-law. I may leave you alone for an hour, father? You need rest, after all the congratulations and the demonstrations of sympathy with which you have been overpowered all the morning. Good-bye for the present. I am off to run a tilt at my future father-in-law."

Unsuspicious of the coming evil, Councillor Moser sat at home in his parlour, reading the papers. They spoiled the flavour of his coffee, and disturbed his rest. The Councillor read, of course, only the Ministerial journals; but even they could no longer dissemble the terrible fact that the State was in a bad way--hopelessly drifting further and further down the steep decline of Liberalism.

And, worst of all, there stared him in the face the R---- news, which now held a permanent place in the columns of the leading papers. Moser had long noticed, with astonishment and dismay, that the whole official press, instead of energetically taking up the cudgels in behalf of the Governor of R----, adopted with regard to this affair a very lukewarm and indifferent tone; but its attitude now, in the presence of the late occurrences, passed all bounds of belief. No vigorous defence of the Baron, no indignation at the shameful calumny, no word as to a chastisement to be inflicted on that lying journal. Mention was made of the "late incredible charges," a hope expressed that the Governor would be able successfully to rebut them; tacked to this came an insinuation that, should he not purge himself from all taint and suspicion, his dismissal would become inevitable--thus the possibility of the alleged guilt was admitted. Immediately below this article appeared the intelligence that Dr. Rudolph Brunnow, formerly convicted of treasonable proceedings, had received a full and free pardon, and would that day be restored to liberty.

The Councillor, on reading this, fell into a train of gloomy thought.

For some time past the notion of retiring on his pension had occupied his mind. He had served the State honourably for well-nigh forty years, and had thereby satisfied his sense of duty. His daughter, too, the only pledge of a marriage contracted late in life, and speedily dissolved by death, was about to leave him, to enter on her novitiate. He himself was getting on in years, and needed rest. His position, once his greatest pride, afforded him no satisfaction now. The new spirit breathing through the land invaded even the sacred places of the Chancellery. As yet the Baron's hand grasped the reins tightly; but Moser thought with affright of what would happen were that firm hand to relax its hold. He believed no single word of the lies now scattered broadcast. Raven could, and must, utterly silence these malignant tongues; but, after the treatment he had met with from the Government, it was hardly likely he would consent to remain in office. The Councillor felt that he, too, had had his day, and was quite resolved to imitate his chief's example, should the latter tender his resignation.

Moser was roused from his meditations by the opening of a door.

Christine announced "Dr. Brunnow," and that gentleman quickly followed in person.

The Councillor rose and bowed to his visitor, with stiff politeness.

"I hope you have not misconstrued my conduct in remaining a whole fortnight without calling on you," began Max, when the first ceremonious words of greeting had been spoken, and he had taken the seat offered him. "It was solely out of consideration to you and your position, you understand. Now that my father----"

"I am already informed of his liberation," interrupted the Councillor, with all his usual rigid formality. "Our most gracious sovereign has been pleased to pardon."

"Yes; and so all the past is wiped out, and just as if it had never been," said Max, with deft and logical inference. "As for my father, he will certainly not make much use of the permission to remain in his native land."

"No?" asked Moser, visibly relieved by the tidings. The thought that he had bestowed a friendly pressure on the hand of that attainted man weighed upon his conscience.

"No; he returns to Switzerland, which has become to him a second home," replied the young surgeon. "We shall continue to live there; but, in the first place, I feel impelled to reiterate to you my thanks for all the kindness I received in your house. I shall never forget it."

The Councillor nodded graciously. These proffered thanks were but right and proper in his eyes.

"So you come to take leave?" he asked. "I am rejoiced to see you are completely restored to health and strength; and my daughter, too, will be delighted, I am sure, when I inform her of it."

The information was not precisely needed, for Agnes knew very well how matters stood with her former patient. Since he had left her father's roof, she had met him regularly at the house of their common protégeé, the law-writer's wife. The latter had now in a great measure recovered from her serious illness, and was no longer in need of medical or spiritual aid; but physician and ministering friend continued their visits with a fidelity which was really touching.

"I owe your daughter most special thanks," replied Max. "To her alone, to her devoted care, I am indebted for my happy recovery. You will allow me, therefore, to address to you one request bearing special reference to Fräulein Agnes?"

Moser nodded a second time. He was inclined to grant the request; the young man would doubtless sue for permission to take leave of Agnes personally.

But Max rose from his chair, and said point-blank, without any ceremonious preface:

"I come to sue for your daughter's hand."

The Councillor, about to nod a third assent, stopped suddenly, and sat with open mouth. For the first instant he really did not understand what the other had said; then he rose in his turn, not hastily, but with slow solemnity. His gaunt figure grew taller and taller as it emerged from the depths of his armchair, seeming gradually to become more gaunt and more uncanny, until he stood at his full height, and looked down over his white neckcloth with a scathing gaze at the young surgeon.

"I--I believe I did not hear aright," said the old gentleman, at length. "You were saying----"

"I am asking for your daughter's hand in marriage," replied Max, with equanimity.

"Are you out of your senses?" asked Moser, still in bewildered amazement; for though this strange thing was repeated, his mind refused to grasp it.

"Not at all. I am in a perfectly normal condition," Max affirmed, and then went on in the same breath, without giving his listener time to collect his wits: "As for my proposal, it is based on our sincere mutual affection. I have already obtained your daughter's promise. Agnes has given me her hand and heart, conditionally, of course, on your consent, for which I now formally ask, entertaining the pleasing hope that it will not be denied me, that my betrothed's father will deign to accept me as his son. Allow me, then, my dear father-in-law----"

He advanced towards the Councillor with open arms, but by an agile rebound the latter saved himself from the intended embrace.

That terrible word "father-in-law" had roused him from his torpor. The position was evidently not to be taken on a first assault.

"You are speaking seriously of a marriage?" he cried--"of a marriage with my daughter, whose vocation for a religious life you well know. You, the son of a political offender, of a convicted rebel, dare to make such a suggestion?"

"My dear sir, I am not seeking a State appointment, but a wife," urged the young surgeon, in self-defence. "I really do not see why you should be so horrified at my offer."

"What, you ask the reason? Your father, sir, wished to overthrow the Government of his country."

"Well, I had nothing to do with it; I could not very well be implicated, as at the time of that affair I was just about four years of age. Besides, these are old stories long buried and forgotten. My father has been amnestied."

"Once a rebel, always a rebel," declared the Councillor, emphatically. "An amnesty can avert punishment. It cannot efface the past."

Max assumed a look of indignation.

"Is it possible, Councillor Moser, that I hear this from your lips? You, who have ever boasted of being our sovereign's most loyal subject, now refuse to recognise that sovereign's edict? His gracious Majesty has pardoned, you say yourself. It is his will that the past should be effaced and forgotten; but you will not accept this decision; you would abrogate the royal prerogative; you rise up in revolt against the authority of the reigning prince! Why, this is opposition, rebellion--to put it plainly, treason itself."

This wonderful chain of argument was developed with so much fluency and assurance that the Councillor had no time to put in a word, or to reflect on its intrinsic value. He was flustered and disconcerted. Casting a hopeless glance at the speaker, he said at length, in rather a small voice:

"Do you really think so?"

"It is my unalterable conviction. But to return to my offer of marriage."

"Not a word more on the subject," interrupted Moser. "To speak of it is an insult. My daughter is the betrothed of Heaven."

"I beg your pardon, she is my betrothed," asserted Max, manfully. "Heaven can wait, I can't. After fifty years of conjugal happiness, I have no objection to surrender Agnes to a higher lot. Until then, I claim her as mine, and mine alone."

"Do you mean to turn my child's sacred vocation into ridicule?" exclaimed the old gentleman, kindling to fresh wrath. "I have long known you to be an infidel, an atheist, a----" his voice forsook him, he panted for breath, and grasped at his neckcloth with both hands.

"Do not excite yourself in this manner," said the young doctor, warningly. "These violent fits of emotion are most dangerous at your age, and to a man of your temperament. They are calculated to produce congestion--apoplexy!"

Moser's long, meagre frame seemed to give the direct lie to this assumption, but Dr. Brunnow did not stick at such trifles. He went on calmly:

"Let me add that, to one of your peculiar constitution, it would be an incalculable benefit to have a doctor for a son-in-law, one who would watch over his father-in-law's health with the utmost care. As I said before, you must not excite yourself."

"It is you who excite me!" cried the Councillor, stung to distraction by this repeated mention of the objectionable relationship. "It is you who will bring on me an apoplectic attack with your detestable suggestions. I feel quite ill now; the blood is all mounting to my head. I want air."

So saying, he sank back in his arm-chair, and clutched at his cravat again. Max kindly came to his assistance, and loosened the knot.

"We will take off this white monstrosity," said he, "you'll feel easier then. I have an infallible remedy against congestions, and I will prescribe it for you at once. These seizures are serious; we must be careful."

Moser gave a melancholy glance at his beloved white cravat, now in the sacrilegious hands of the doctor, who folded it neatly together before laying it on the table. With that "white monstrosity" all the old gentleman's vehemence seemed to have gone from him; the allusion to apoplexy had made him anxious. He looked on quietly while his tormentor went up to the writing-table, wrote a prescription for a harmless composing draught, and then returned to him, holding the paper.

"Six drops in a glass of water," he said impressively.

"How often?" growled the Councillor.

"Three times a day."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it, pray."

The Councillor hoped and expected that this irrepressible suitor would now deliver him from his presence; but he was soon undeceived. Instead of taking his leave, the young man drew forward a chair, and sat down opposite him.

"So I may reckon on your consent to my marriage with your daughter?" Max began again.

Moser would have blazed forth anew, but he thought of the tendency to apoplexy and the necessity of avoiding all excitement, and therefore replied with all the calm he could command:

"No; a thousand times no! I do not believe that Agnes can so far forget herself as to entertain an affection for you. She has, of her own free will, chosen a religious life. She is an obedient daughter, a pious Catholic."

"And will, I am sure, make an excellent wife," wound up Max. "Besides, after all, I am a Catholic myself."

Moser folded his hands.

"Ah, what sort of one?" he groaned.

"I only mean that the religion need not be an obstacle. My position, I must confess, is rather a modest one at present; but it may satisfy a wife who has not very soaring pretentions. As for my character and habits, my father-in-law----"

"For Heaven's sake, let me have no more of your father-in-law. I will not endure it. You are an impertinent, a most obnoxious person."

"You will get used to me in time," said the young surgeon, consolingly. "I may come again to-morrow, may I not, to see my betrothed?"

The old gentleman made no reply, fearing to prolong the interview. His one object was to rid the house of this tormenting nuisance. To-morrow he would shut himself in, and see his doors well bolted. Max himself seemed to understand that he had gone far enough for one day, for he now moved to take his departure, turning to fire a parting shot as he reached the door.

"Councillor Moser!"

"Well, what more do you want?" asked the old gentleman, despairingly.

"When you talk over this business with Agnes, be sure and avoid all undue excitement. You know the danger of it. Six drops of the medicine in a glass of water three times a day, and, above all things, quiet and composure. I should be miserable if any accident were to happen to so near and dear a relation."

Then he really went. The Councillor sank back in his arm-chair, utterly spent. Now only, on being left alone, did he fully comprehend the glaring nature of the affront put upon him, and he could not even allow free vent to his just and righteous anger; he must be on his guard against violent emotions and apoplectic fits.

Dr. Brunnow had not left the house so promptly as its master supposed. He was at this moment standing outside in the anteroom with his arm round Agnes's waist, quite as a thing of course, and as though he had received official recognition as her future husband. The girl was anxiously questioning him, wishing to hear exactly what course the interview had taken, and what answer her father had made.

"Well, he says 'no,' so far," Max had to confess; "but set your mind perfectly at rest--he will say 'yes' before he has done. I did not expect the fortress would capitulate all at once. It must be invested, besieged in due form. On the whole, I am satisfied with the result of this first attack. Breaches have been made in the fortifications, and to-morrow I shall advance my posts."

"Ah, Max," whispered Agnes, with her eyes full of tears, "what troubles we have before us! My courage fails me when I think of all the difficulties. I shall never overcome them."

"No more you need. To overcome them is my business," said Max, encouragingly. "I shall stay here until it is all settled and the wedding-day fixed. Your father must be allowed time now to grow accustomed to the idea; meanwhile, I shall, in the most humble and deferential terms, signify the fact of our engagement to the lady abbess and his reverence the confessor, the two of whom you stand in such great awe."

Agnes shuddered.

"Some portion of the storm you will have to meet," continued Max; "but the chief brunt of it I will take on myself. Steady, little Agnes--show a brave front. I give you my word that your father will voluntarily and cordially give us his blessing."

With these words and a kiss, he took leave of his betrothed.