Lieschen in Linau! She had been his nurse that night; it was her lovely face of which he had been aware in his semi-consciousness; her cool, gentle hand had been laid upon his forehead; she had leaned over him in anxious hope for his return to life. His dream, had been no dream, after all.
And he had supposed that Bertha had cared for him so kindly! He rejoiced that he owed nothing to her nursing. He could not think of her save with a sensation akin to dislike. Her charm was utterly gone. Why had she concealed from him that Lieschen was beneath her roof? No one had even hinted at her presence there. But yes, Clara! Egon suddenly comprehended the child's parting words to him, words which he had understood falsely: 'There's somebody, at all events, who does want to see you.' She had flown back to say this to him unheard by her sister-in-law.
Oh, he understood it all,--the ennui of the woman trained to live in the whirl of society and stranded in her quiet home, knowing 'so ill to deal with time' as to turn for excitement to an idle flirtation with the first man available, and dreading lest another should interfere with her schemes. But it was not too late to baffle them.
To Linau then! He went himself to the stables to order the horses put to a light hunting-wagon. The coachman could not obey his orders quickly enough. Anton shook his head over his master's impatience, while to Egon every moment that passed seemed an irreparable loss.
At last he found himself seated behind his spirited horses; but Anton did not drive fast enough; his master took the reins from him, and urged the pair to their quickest speed. To him they seemed to travel at a snail's pace. On they flew; not until Anton ventured to call his attention to their condition did he bethink himself that there really was no need for such urgent haste. The servant's words recalled his resolve to exercise self-control, to curb the impulse of the moment, and he gave back the reins to his coachman's hands.
The way seemed to stretch out infinitely, but at last Linau appeared, half hidden in trees, on the summit of a gentle incline. A quarter of an hour would bring them to its court-yard, but Egon was forced to curb his impatience and to order the coachman to rein in his horses. This he did in obedience to the flutter of a white kerchief waved by a graceful horsewoman who came galloping across-country towards him. It was Clara, who had seen him from a distance and thus signalled him to await her approach. The high-road was separated from the meadows bounding it on one side by a tolerably wide and deep ditch, but this was no obstacle for Clara; her pretty little mare took it at a leap, and in a minute its rider drew up beside the light wagon. With sparkling eyes she greeted Egon, saying, with a confidential nod, "You have come at last, Herr von Ernau! I expected you yesterday and the day before, as poor old Jost knows to his cost," and she pointed with her riding-whip to the old groom, who had followed her and was riding about on the other side of the ditch, looking for a narrow place at which to cross it.
"You expected me, Fräulein Clara?"
"Of course. I considered that you promised me to come before Sunday, and therefore on the day before yesterday and yesterday I rode about the fields here at the time when I thought you would appear, looking out for you. If you had not come now, I was going to send my old Jost to Plagnitz to remind you to keep your promise this afternoon, and, if the worst came to the worst, I should have gone and brought you over myself, for I was determined that come you must to-day."
"If I am right in my conjecture," Egon said, very gravely, "you wished me to come to Linau to-day because Fräulein von Osternau leaves it to-morrow."
Clara dropped her bridle and clapped her hands. "Oh, this is delightful!" she exclaimed. "You know that Elise is here! I have never told you, and now my silly promise not to tell you binds me no longer."