A Noble Name; or, Dönninghausen

by Claire von Glümer

The evening passed without any mention by the Freiherr of Otto's note; Johann Leopold's letter was the absorbing topic. Magelone breathed more freely; perhaps, after all, her grandfather had not recognized Otto's handwriting. The note was forgotten, and all danger was over.

She was mistaken. The Freiherr had seen at a glance that the scrawl was from Otto, and as soon as he found himself alone in his room after supper he took the note from his pocket to read it again, and decide what course to take in the matter.

It was not addressed, but the Freiherr was as sure that it was destined for Johanna as he was that it was written by Otto. It ran thus:

"You torture me, and misunderstand me. I can bear it no longer. Grant me, I conjure you, one-quarter of an hour's explanation, but not with Aunt Thekla's eyes looking on; they strike me dumb. Will you await me at half past ten in the birchen hut? I will come so soon as I have escorted the Klausenburgs back to K——. Or would you rather it should be to-morrow morning early, between five and six? Tell me, when will you hear what I have to say? My only love, you must hear me."

"'Only love,'" the Freiherr repeated, and his brow clouded. How could Johanna, with her earnest and profound nature, have given this superficial creature the right to address her thus? and why had pride and gratitude not prevented her from bringing a new mésalliance upon Dönninghausen? But what was Dönninghausen to her? She was the child of her mother, and Agnes, proud, pure, unselfish though she was, had outraged family honour, duty, and conscience when beguiled by that scoundrel's whisper of love.

The Freiherr arose and began to pace to and fro. The soft breath of the summer night wafted in through the open window gradually soothed him. He told himself that he must hear what Johanna had to say before he condemned her. It was plain from the note that she was displeased with Otto. Perhaps he persecuted her, in spite of her efforts to prevent it, with an affection which she regarded as unjustifiable and misplaced. At all events, Otto must be brought to reason, and an end put to this fresh nonsense.

Suddenly the Freiherr stood still; his glance was attracted by a letter lying beside the lamp on the table,—the letter that he had received to-day from Johann Leopold,—and the scales seemed to fall from his eyes. "No, there need be no end," he murmured, continuing his walk. "If they love each other it might make all things right!"

Johann Leopold's letter had increased the Freiherr's anxiety with regard to his successor and heir. The strength and improvement which the sick man had hoped for from his travels had not yet resulted from them.

He regretted that the novelty of his daily impressions so exhausted him as to leave little room for enjoyment, adding that he had resigned all hope of ever being able to fill any important position in life, and that he begged his grandfather no longer to cherish any illusions with regard to him. If it really should happen that Johann Leopold resigned the heirship, it must devolve upon Waldemar, since Otto, the next in line of precedence, had proved only too clearly that he was utterly incapable of bearing the responsibility of so large an estate. But would he recognize this fact himself, and join with his grandfather in cutting off the entail? Endless lawsuits, family dissensions, deterioration of the property, might be the result of the change; and, moreover, the Freiherr would thus lay hands upon the right of inheritance, to defend which he had always held to be the sacred duty of the nobility. But here, in Otto's attachment to Johanna, a way presented itself out of all his perplexities. If Otto contracted a mésalliance, by so doing he voluntarily relinquished Dönninghausen, which would devolve of right to Waldemar and Waldemar's children; Johanna would take the position in the family which her grandfather desired for her, and—better than all—if she loved Otto she was the one woman to give him firmness and steadiness of character. The lovely legend of the redeeming power of love, which has beguiled so many a youthful heart, was here a siren song in the ears of an old man, singing his doubts and cares to sleep.

The next morning early the Freiherr sent to Klausenburg for Otto, who made his appearance without delay.