Celia always rode alone. Formerly, old John had sometimes accompanied her, but, although he soon recovered from the effects of his fall, his young mistress never now desired his attendance. She could not so easily have declined Lucie's companionship, but Fräulein Müller had never been a horsewoman, and did not care to learn to ride.
Thus, then, Celia rode alone. A happy smile illumined her features and her dark eyes sparkled as she daily caught the first glimpse of the light straw hat among the trees, and found Kurt at the appointed place in the forest waiting to walk along the woodland road by her side. Then the girl would drop the bridle on her horse's neck, and Pluto, who was now on the best of terms with Kurt, knew perfectly well that before he was urged to greater speed than a leisurely walk an hour would elapse. An hour! How quickly it flew by! how much had both Celia and Kurt to say in that brief space of time! Celia told of her studies, of the delightful hours she now owed to her friend Anna, whose beauty and loveliness, clearness of head and goodness of heart, she described in such glowing terms that Kurt could not at times suppress a smile, for which Celia would instantly reprove him as implying a doubt of the accuracy of her descriptions.
Kurt, on the other hand, would tell of his life at Grünhagen: how he was becoming more at home in Germany, how his uncle's hospitality and social qualities made his house delightful, a resort for the country gentry and for the principal people in the neighbouring town of A----. He often spoke also of the Finanzrath, who was now frequently at Grünhagen. Kurt, who was always candid and unreserved towards Celia, admitted to her that, although for her sake he should always treat her brother with the utmost politeness, he had very little liking for the exaggerated polish of his manners and bearing.
Thus they talked in the most innocent manner. At parting Celia always offered her hand to Kurt, and smilingly permitted him to imprint upon it an ardent kiss, but not again did she bend over him as when she once had yielded to an irresistible impulse. If he had uttered one tender word she would hardly have refused him a second kiss, but this word was not spoken; he withstood with manly determination the temptation to utter it. He had registered a vow that never should this innocent girl have cause to regret the frank confidence she had shown him.
Lucie had no suspicion of the attraction that took Celia to the forest, nor that the simple-hearted girl could have a secret from her. She took delight in her charming pupil's tender affection for her, which indeed she reciprocated with all her heart.
The old Freiherr had greatly changed since Lucie's coming to Castle Hohenwald: he had grown social. True, his sociability was confined to a desire for the society of his immediate family circle, among whom he reckoned, of course, Fräulein Anna Müller; but with them he developed a genial courtesy that astonished his sons.
Arno, on the other hand, preserved the same attitude towards his sister's governess that he had adopted upon her first arrival at the castle; he was conscious of an involuntary thrill of delight when, in the course of conversation, or upon an accidental encounter in their walks, Fräulein Müller bestowed upon him one of her rare sweet smiles; but the next moment he would rouse himself to renewed hatred of the entire sex, bethinking himself that this very enchanting smile was bit a trap set by overweening love of admiration, and could avail nothing with him. And yet he could not avoid her. When Lucie, occupied with some bit of feminine work, seated herself at the table beside the Baron's rolling-chair and talked pleasantly with the old man and Celia, Arno would join the circle, placing his chair where, unobserved, he could watch every change of expression on the lovely face. He spoke but little, but not a word of hers escaped him,--especially did he watch and listen when, as was but rarely the case, she appealed to Werner.
Why was he so pleased at the coldness and reserve of her usual manner towards his brother? Why should he be so much annoyed when one day Werner announced that he had just received a favourable reply from his chief in office to his request for a prolongation of his leave of absence? Wherefore should Werner have seemed to him absolutely insufferable since he had taken to paying such marked court to Fräulein Müller?
Arno had never been upon terms of close intimacy with his brother,--theirs were antagonistic natures; but now he felt an absolute repugnance to him for which there was no accounting; surely it was nothing to him if Werner chose to pay court to Celia's beautiful governess.
No; it was not "nothing to him." He excused himself for this by reflecting that Werner's superficial, frivolous manner was unworthy a Hohenwald. What views could he entertain with regard to Fräulein Müller? Had he not often declared that in the choice of a wife he should consult his head, and not his heart? Wealth was of no consequence; but the future Freifrau von Hohenwald must belong to a family through whose influence the Hohenwalds might recover the importance they had lost with the government. Arno thought he knew well that Werner, keenly devoted as he was to his own interests, never carried away by sentiment, would not be false to these expressed principles of his. It was inconceivable that he should sacrifice his ambition to love for a poor bourgeoise girl, his sister's governess! He could scarcely cherish honest intentions with regard to her, and Castle Hohenwald should never be profaned by the reverse! And this was why, as Arno tried to convince himself, he watched Werner and Fräulein Müller so narrowly.