She paused; and, after a slight struggle with herself, went on,—
“The contract, legally drawn up and complete in every way, was signed; not, however, by my father, but by my brother. You have heard, perhaps, that I have a brother. Bad companionship and a yielding disposition have led him into evil, and for some years we have not seen him. Much misfortune has befallen him; but none greater, perhaps, than his meeting with Marsac; for, though Adolf has done many things, he would not have gone thus far without the promptings of this bad man.”
“Was it his own name he wrote?” asked I.
“No; it was my father's,” and she faltered at the word; and as she spoke it, her head fell heavily forward, and she covered her face with her hands.
She rallied, however, quickly, and went on. “We now know that the timber is not worth one-fourth of this large sum. Baron Elias himself has seen it, and declares that we have been duped or—worse. He insists that we rescind the contract, or accept all its consequences. The one is hopeless,—the other ruin. Meanwhile, the Baron suspends farther relations with us, and heavy acceptances of ours will soon press for payment. I must not go into this,” said she, hurriedly. “You are very young to charge with such a mission; but I have great faith in your loyalty. You will not wrong our trust?”
“That I will not.”
“You will go to Graf Hunyadi, and speak with him. If he be—as many of his countrymen are—a man of high and generous feeling, he will not bring ruin upon us, when our only alternative would be to denounce our own. You are very young; but you have habits of the world and society. Nay,—I am not seeking to learn a secret; but you know enough to make you companionable and acceptable, where any others in our employ would be inadmissible. At all events, you will soon see the sort of man we have to deal with, and you will report to me at once.”
“I am not to tell him how this signature has been obtained?” asked I, awaiting the reply.
“That would be to denounce the contract at once,” cried she, as though this thought had for the first time struck her. “You know the penalty of a forgery here. It is the galleys for life. He must be saved at all events. Don't you see,” cried she, eagerly, “I can give you no instructions. I have none to give. When I say I trust you,—I have told you all.”
“Has Herr Ignaz not said how he would wish me to act?”