Not a word could Lucie utter. Amazement, shame, and indignation overwhelmed her. Werner no longer awaited a reply; he left her not as was his wont with a low bow, but with head proudly erect, hurrying towards the castle, and not even looking back at her whom he had so insulted. He did not see the intense scorn and disgust expressed in her face as she gazed after him, nor hear the word "wretch!" that passed her lips as she did so.
CHAPTER XIV.
For a few moments after leaving Lucie Werner's features wore a smile of triumph; he thought the proud beauty subdued and terrified by his threats; but when he reached his own apartment, and had time for reflection, he felt by no means so sure of his victory. As his excitement subsided he became greatly discontented with himself, and bitterly regretted having yielded to one of the outbursts of passion which had cost him dear in his boyish years, but which he had lately learned to control. Pacing his room to and fro, he pondered upon the occurrences of the past hour. While in Lucie's presence, rage at the thought of his brother's successful rivalry had bewildered his understanding; he could not think clearly. Reason had returned, and he confessed to himself that he had played the part of a jealous fool. His brother was no intriguer, his ways were never those of a schemer. But whence, if not from Arno, could Fräulein Müller have received her information? She saw no one but the inmates of the castle, and she had lately received no letters, as no one knew better than Werner, who distributed the letters from the post-bag every morning. He grew very uncomfortable; Lucie had known of his acquaintance with Repuin, and she had now learned of what nature this acquaintance was; she still maintained a correspondence with influential people in Prussia, Adèle von Guntram, President von Guntram's daughter, was her most intimate friend, and any information forwarded to them would soon reach the Chancellor's office.
The longer the Finanzrath reflected the more grave did the situation appear to him. Vague pictures of an examination of his papers, of an arrest, and possible trial for high treason presented themselves to his imagination. Finally, he seated himself at his writing-table, and thought he would write to inform Repuin of what he had heard. This, however, proved to be by no means an easy task; he could scarcely do it without implicating Lucie, and should he mention her relations with Adèle von Guntram the Russian's suspicions would surely be aroused; he would make his appearance at the castle with Sorr, who would enforce his marital rights. Should this occur, Lucie would be restrained by no considerations from betraying him. At present she would feel obliged to have some regard for the man who knew her secret and held her fate in his hands. He tore up his letter to Repuin, and decided to attempt to avert in another way the danger that menaced him. Lucie was not implacable; she had no reason for bringing distress upon the Hohenwald family by betraying him; only a desire for revenge or to defend herself from attack could prompt her to do this; he would ask her pardon for expressions used in the heat of passion, and would not allow his love for the beautiful woman or his jealousy to carry him so far again. Soothed by these reflections, Werner began to look to the future with confidence.
What now? Lucie had asked herself, when left alone in the castle garden. To answer this question was not easy. Suppose that Werner, impelled by anger and jealousy, should discover her retreat to Count Repuin, would not her best course be to leave the castle immediately, and await in some secluded village the result of Adèle's efforts to procure her another situation? The thought of the consequences of Werner's betrayal of her secret filled her with horror. What if Sorr, summoned by the Finanzrath, should appear at the castle and require her to return to him! She felt sure that the old Freiherr would grant her his protection, but what would it avail her against her husband! And Arno? Lucie's heart died within her as she thought of the pain that a knowledge of her secret would cause him. Nothing was left her but a hurried flight. But no, she would not leave Hohenwald; had she not promised Kurt and Celia to use her influence with the old Freiherr to induce him to forget the wretched feud with the Posenecks? Could she disappoint Celia's confidence in her by forsaking her at her need, in selfish care for her own safety? Would not Kurt in that case have a right to recall the promise he had given her? And what mischief might ensue! No, it was her sacred duty to watch over Celia; she would not leave the castle for some time yet. But she had written to Adèle begging her to procure another situation for her as soon as possible. The letter had gone; should she not write another and revoke her request?
In the midst of her uncertainty, Celia, who had seen from her window that Werner had returned to the castle, joined her again, eager to know the result of the interview with her eldest brother. "Well?" she asked.
"You were right, I ought not to have spoken to your brother," Anna replied; "he does not believe me. I cannot tell you more, Celia; it is enough that my appeal to him was quite in vain."
"I knew how it would be," the girl said, sadly; "I wish you had taken my advice, but it is not yet too late. Let me call Arno; he is in his room, I saw him go to it; he will be here in a few minutes. Indeed, dear Anna, Arno has the best heart in the world. He is not so amiable and agreeable as Werner, he cannot pay compliments, but you can rely upon him. I have often watched him when he thought no one was observing him, and I am quite sure that he likes you very much. He will believe you, and soon devise some way of shielding our dear old father from danger. Do speak with Arno, dearest Anna. Let me call him. May I?"
"Yes; I will await him here."
Celia's gratitude was shown by a fervent kiss, and she flew towards the castle, returning in a few moments with Arno, whose hand she held in hers.