“Why don’t you sell the Castle, uncle?”
“Ah, my dear boy, for that I must have money, much money; and that I have been in want of all my life. There are so many mortgages on the Castle that nobody would give the sum necessary to pay them. Besides, the person who bought it would like to possess the neighbouring estates. My sister-in-law, who possessed the Runenberg estates bordering on my property, wished to buy it, but I refused her; family hatred would not suffer me to make room for her. Thank heaven, she’s gone. She instituted proceedings against me about a strip of land of no real value to either of us; and the lawsuit cost me thousands of guilders. She won, as a matter of course, and then laid claim to a small bridge which connected the land in question with my grounds. Again I lost my money and my case; and now I must make a long round to reach places quite near, because the use of the bridge is forbidden me. Oh, that woman has been the curse of my life!”
“But to come back to the question. Overberg has commissioned me to say that the heir to the Runenberg is likely to make you an advantageous offer for the Werve.”
“It could be done privately—as in the case of the farms? Overberg arranged that for me—and there are reasons for avoiding a public sale,” cried the old man, brightening up with a ray of hope.
“Yes, Overberg said as much; the only question was whether you could be induced to sell it.”
“For myself, yes, with all my heart. But Francis—there’s the rub! She has an affection for this old rats’ nest, for the family traditions, and for heaven know’s what; nay, even for the title which its possession carries with it. God bless the mark! She has got it into her head that at some future day she will be Baroness de Werve; and it is an illusion of hers to restore this old barrack. But her only chance of doing it is to make a rich marriage. Formerly she had chances enough amongst the rich bachelors, but she treated them all slightingly; and now we see nobody in this lonely place.”
“But you do not need her permission to sell the Castle?”
“Legally I do not require it; but there would be no living with her if I sold it without her consent. Besides, she has a right to be consulted. When she came of age I had to inform her that her mother’s fortune was nearly all spent. It was not my fault. Sir John Mordaunt kept up a large establishment, and lived in English style, without English money to support it; for he was only a second son, and his captain’s pay was not large. A little before his death he lost an uncle, to whose property and title Francis would have succeeded if she had been a boy. Shortly after this event my son-in-law died of apoplexy, and I was left guardian to Francis. My evil fate pursued me still, and being in want of a large sum of money to clear off a debt, which would disgrace the family if not paid at once, Francis generously offered me her whole fortune. I accepted it, as there was no alternative, but only as a loan; and promised to leave the Werve to her at my death.”
“But Francis is your only grandchild—or stay, I have heard you had a son, General; has he children?”
“My son is—dead,” Von Zwenken answered, with a strange kind of hesitancy in his voice. “He was never married so far as I know—at least, he never asked my consent to a marriage; and if he has left children I should not acknowledge them to be legitimate. In short, you now understand why I cannot sell the Castle without Francis’ consent; after my death my creditors cannot take possession of it without reckoning with her.”