The bow-window of the room in the lower story looking towards the park was dark. The outline of the mill buildings rose black and shapeless against the sky,—it all seemed lonely and deserted; the bark of the watch-dog, who resented the approaching footsteps, sounded lost as in some endless desert. The wheels were silent, and the huge room was so empty and echoing that one might have fancied that, since the strong human hand so lately working here had stiffened in death, each friendly busy elf had pulled his cap over his peevish face and slipped away.
The doctor drew the young girl towards him before he opened the gate. "I seem to be leading you into exile," he said, anxiously. "You ought not to give me the pain of knowing you alone after this sad and weary day. Come with me; my aunt will be only too happy to receive and take care of you."
"No, no!" she said, hurriedly. "Do not think that I shall resign myself to a passion of useless grief when I am alone. I have no time for it, and I shall not do so. I must," and she pointed to the bow-window, where the dim light of a lamp began to shine behind the chintz curtain, "play the part of comforter there. Those four poor people are dependent upon my energy and assistance."
"Dear, dear Kitty!" he said, clasping her right hand in both his own and pressing it to his breast. "Go then in God's name! I should hold it a crime to place one stone in the hard but sure path you have chosen through your present suffering. Only remember that you are not yet quite recovered. Do not make too great a demand upon your strength; and wear the bandage upon your forehead for a few days longer. And now farewell: at Easter, when the last wintry mist has flown, when the ice and snow are thawed, when human hearts throb joyously,—at Easter I shall return. Until then, think of one whose every thought is yours, and do not let slander or mistrust come between us!"
"Never!" This one word came almost like a groan from her lips. She withdrew the hand he pressed to his lips, and the gate in the wall clanged to behind her. She took no step forward; leaning against the cold damp wall, her face buried in her hands, she listened breathlessly to his departing footsteps. What was death in comparison with the tortures of this wildly-beating heart condemned to live? She listened until the soft night air, brushing her cheek, brought no sound upon its wings, and then, with tearless, weary eyes, she passed on into the house, to enter upon her mission of comforter and protector.
Three days later, immediately after Henriette's burial, Doctor Bruck and his aunt left the capital. Kitty had not seen the doctor again, but his aunt had repeatedly passed an hour with her. The same day Flora left also, accompanied by the Frau President. The old lady was to visit the baths; and Flora went to Zürich, where, report said, she was to devote herself for a time to the study of medicine.
[CHAPTER XXIX.]
More than a year had passed since the day in March when Kitty Mangold, grandchild and sole heir of the wealthy castle miller, had been walking upon the high-road from the town on her way to present herself at her guardian the councillor's in her new character of heiress.
Those who now turned aside into the by-road leading to the mill found upon their right a row of pretty little cottages, that belonged to the workmen in the factory, and had been erected upon the waste portion of the mill-garden,—the strip of land that Kitty had begged of her guardian for the convenience of these men. And the townspeople liked much to walk in this direction. Formerly the high massive wall enclosing the mill-grounds had cast its shade so far that the footpath beneath it was almost always damp and had long been avoided. Now the wall had gone, and the pretty path was planted with acacias. The cottages looked neat and trim, with their air of Dutch cleanliness, the pretty porch in front of each, and the small gardens which had been planted the previous autumn with all kinds of flowering shrubs.
Behind them loomed the castle mill, hoary with age, its windows looking in the opposite direction, as if angry that its ancient mantle of green had been thus bordered with gay embroidery. It had undergone no alteration, save that the shabby old dial had been brightened, and the little gate leading through the wall into the adjacent park had been walled up. There was no longer any connection between the mill and the former estate of the vanished Von Baumgartens from whom the old structure had derived its high-sounding title. But the deafening noise, the throbbing heart of the old pile went on with rejuvenated vigour, and the road to the mill-yard was more frequented than ever,—the masterless business was directed by a firm cool hand and a prudent head. Kitty's undertaking had been attended with success. She had found an experienced foreman, and poor Lenz, the merchant who had lost his all, was her assistant book-keeper.