“Peace, Ebbo!” said his mother, rising; “peace, I entreat, house-mother! pardon, uncle, I pray thee. O, why will not all who love me let me follow that which I believe to be best!”
“Child,” said her uncle, “I cannot see thee domineered over by a youth whose whole conduct shows his need of restraint.”
“Nor am I,” said Christina. “It is I who am utterly averse to this offer. My sons and I are one in that; and, uncle, if I pray of you to consent to let us return to our castle, it is that I would not see the visit that has made us so happy stained with strife and dissension! Sure, sure, you cannot be angered with my son for his love for me.”
“For the self-seeking of his love,” said Master Gottfried. “It is to gratify his own pride that he first would prevent thee from being enriched and ennobled, and now would bear thee away to the scant—Nay, Freiherr, I will not seem to insult you, but resentment would make you cruel to your mother.”
“Not cruel!” said Friedel, hastily. “My mother is willing. And verily, good uncle, methinks that we all were best at home. We have benefited much and greatly by our stay; we have learnt to love and reverence you; but we are wild mountaineers at the best; and, while our hearts are fretted by the fear of losing our sweet mother, we can scarce be as patient or submissive as if we had been bred up by a stern father. We have ever judged and acted for ourselves, and it is hard to us not to do so still, when our minds are chafed.”
“Friedel,” said Ebbo, sternly, “I will have no pardon asked for maintaining my mother’s cause. Do not thou learn to be smooth-tongued.”
“O thou wrong-headed boy!” half groaned Master Gottfried. “Why did not all this fall out ten years sooner, when thou wouldst have been amenable? Yet, after all, I do not know that any noble training has produced a more high-minded loving youth,” he added, half relenting as he looked at the gallant, earnest face, full of defiance indeed, but with a certain wistful appealing glance at “the motherling,” softening the liquid lustrous dark eye. “Get thee gone, boy, I would not quarrel with you; and it may be, as Friedel says, that we are best out of one another’s way. You are used to lord it, and I can scarce make excuses for you.”
“Then,” said Ebbo, scarce appeased, “I take home my mother, and you, sir, cease to favour Kasimir’s suit.”
“No, Sir Baron. I cease not to think that nothing would be so much for your good. It is because I believe that a return to your own old castle will best convince you all that I will not vex your mother by further opposing your departure. When you perceive your error may it only not be too late! Such a protector is not to be found every day.”
“My mother shall never need any protector save myself,” said Ebbo; “but, sir, she loves you, and owes all to you. Therefore I will not be at strife with you, and there is my hand.”