'Is it possible that you can have been listening? asked the latter, his breath almost failing him as he thought of such a possibility.
'No, uncle,' said the young Count angrily. 'I am not in the habit of playing the spy or the listener. I merely caught your last words as I was opening the door. It is natural surely that I should like to know their meaning, and to learn what it is that has hitherto been kept secret from me as from my father.'
'You heard me beg my sister not to mention the subject to you,' replied Heideck, who had now recovered his composure. 'I was alluding to a reminiscence of our youth which we shall do well to keep to ourselves. You know that our early days were passed amid graver, sadder circumstances than yours. We had battles to fight and sacrifices to make whereof you can have no conception.'
The explanation was plausible and appeared to find belief, but Edmund's tone, though tender, was fraught with deep reproach, as he said, turning to the Countess:
'I could not have believed, mother, that you had a secret from me.'
'Do not torment your mother now,' interrupted Heideck. 'You see how very unwell she is?'
'You should have spared her then, and not have called up painful reminiscences to-day,' replied Edmund, rather warmly. 'I came to tell you, mother, that Hedwig and her father are here. May I bring her to you? As you felt able to see my uncle, you will, I am sure, not refuse to receive us.'
'Certainly,' assented the Countess. 'Indeed, I feel much better now. Bring Hedwig to me at once.'
'I will fetch her,' said Edmund, and went; but before leaving the room he turned once again, and cast a strange scrutinising glance at his mother and uncle. There was no suspicion in his look, but, as it were, a vague presentiment of coming trouble.
The young Count had sent a message over to Brunneck on the preceding evening, with the news that he had been slightly wounded in the hand when out shooting, and therefore would not be able to pay his usual visit, adding that there was not the smallest cause for uneasiness. This piece of intelligence had brought the Councillor and his daughter over to Ettersberg without loss of time. The sight of Edmund, who received them with all his wonted gaiety, soon set any remaining fears on his account at rest. Almost simultaneously with them came the neighbouring squire on whose estate the accident had occurred. He had driven over with his son to inquire after the patient.