"Well, we are fortunate in at least having one among us who has force of character enough and sufficient strength of will, to say, 'Thus far shalt thou go and no farther!' Zounds! it came upon us like a second deluge!" said the forester.
"True, Herr von Walde is possessed of an energy and force of character such as falls to the lot of but few," replied Miss Mertens, quickly. "His mouth is closed, but his eyes are wide open, and servility, malice, and hypocrisy quail before them and drop their masks."
In the mean while Reinhard had been attentively examining the walls of the ruinous wing of the old castle which bounded the garden on the south. Three large, pointed, arched windows, faultless in shape, extended upward to the height of the second story from about six feet from the ground. Close beside them a curious jutty projected far into the garden, forming a deep corner, where grew a giant oak, which stretched some of its boughs through the two nearest sashless windows far into the airy, cool apartment within, which must once have been the chapel of the castle, intended to accommodate a large number of worshippers, for it extended through the entire depth of the wing. Opposite these windows were three others of like dimensions; they had been less exposed to wind and weather, and had preserved some fragments of coloured glass in their delicately carved stone rosettes. Through them could be seen the dark court-yard, with its crumbling, ghostly walls like a picture painted in gray. The garden side of this wing looked gay and odd enough. The most extravagant caprice had here heaped together all styles of windows and decorations; judging by the exterior, the old building must have been a perfect labyrinth of rooms, passages, and staircases. The jutty alone seemed to be in a most dangerous state of decay. It inclined perceptibly to one side, and appeared to be awaiting the moment when it should bury the blooming life of the oak beneath its masses of stone. It had thrown a green mantle coquettishly over its falling form,—an impenetrable garment of ivy wreathed it all over from the ground to the ruinous roof, and effectually concealed every crack and aperture in the masonry. Some sprays of the ivy had crept across the oak and climbed up to the sculptured arms on the principal front of the chapel, which looked forth grimly enough from beneath its intrusive decoration.
"I attempted," said Ferber, "to explore this wing as far as I could, shortly after my arrival here, for its peculiar style of architecture interests me greatly; but I could not get farther than the chapel, where, indeed, it seemed dangerous to stay long. You see the whole upper story has fallen in, and the weight of the ruins has caused the ceiling of the chapel to sink considerably, so that it seems ready to tumble at the slightest breath of wind. The jutty has only lately looked so threatening in consequence of several severe storms. It must be taken away, for it makes a part of the garden inaccessible to us. If I could have engaged any workmen, it should have been pulled down before now."
After this explanation, Reinhard had no further relish, as he expressed it, for wandering about in the old ruins. But he was all the more interested in the connecting building, and Ferber arose to show his guests his dwelling. And first, they ascended the rampart behind them. Ferber was very capable and skilful, and employed every moment of his leisure in improving his new possession. With his own hands he had mended the steps which led to the top of the rampart, and they arose now smooth and white from the close-shaven turf which clothed its sloping side. On top, the tolerably wide plateau was strewn with fresh gravel, and in the centre of it, embowered in the linden boughs which overshadowed the basin below, stood a group of home-made garden chairs and a table. While they leaned against the breastwork and enjoyed the confined but lovely view from the steep mountain over the valley beneath, Elizabeth told the story of Sabina's ancestress, for doubtless this rampart had been the scene of her narrative.
"Br-rr!" said Reinhard, shuddering. "What a leap it would have been! The wall is high, and when I imagine below there, instead of that mossy carpet, the sluggish, slimy waters of a castle-ditch full of frogs and lizards, I cannot possibly understand the resolution required to throw one's self over."
"But," said Miss Mertens, "despair has led many a one to seek a death even more horrible."
At this moment Elizabeth saw with her mind's eye the glowing, passionate expression with which Hollfeld had hastened towards her on the preceding evening. She remembered the disgust that she had experienced at his touch, and she thought to herself that it was not very difficult to imagine the position of the persecuted girl.
"Come in, child," said her uncle, rousing her from her reverie. "Are you listening to hear the grass grow that you stand there so silent?"
Beneath his clear gaze, and at the sound of his strong, honest voice, the terrible vision vanished in an instant. "No, uncle," she replied, laughing, "that I shall not attempt, even though I do boast that I have wonderfully keen eyes and ears for the processes of nature."