“I know that oak!” I exclaimed. “I feel what she must have felt there. She loves me still!”
“I believe so, Jonker, for she said we were to leave her there to die, and to tell you where she died. It appears she had ridden towards the town, and then, suddenly changing her course, was returning to the Castle through the wood; but either she must have pressed Tancredo too hard, or dropped the reins—she cannot explain it herself. But certain it is, the noble animal, no longer recognizing the hand of his mistress, galloped home, and she fell out of the saddle. We carried her home, and laid her on the sofa in the drawing-room. The surgeon declared there was no danger, but said she must not be moved for some days.”
“And why did you not send me word immediately?”
“Hum! I wanted to write to you, and she also. I ought not to tell you perhaps, but she wrote a note to you.”
“No, for young Pauwelsen was charged to deliver it into your own hands at Zutphen; but when he arrived there they told him you had left, and he brought back the letter, which the Freule tore up, with a bitter laugh saying—
“‘I deserved no better.’”
“Oh, if I could have foreseen all this!” I cried, wringing my hands.
“I advised you to stay,” replied the Captain; “why need you go off in such a hurry?”
“My dear Captain, I felt I was going to be ill; I was ill already. But how was it she did not receive my packet? I waited until the third day for an answer.”