'Edmund!'
It was a faint, trembling cry. Edmund turned, and beheld his mother standing close before him. She said not another word, but in her eyes he could read the misery, the anguish of the last few hours. And as she stretched forth her arms to him, he did not recoil, but stooped down to her. His lips met her forehead with a damp and icy touch, and in a whisper, audible to her alone, he said:
'Be at peace, mother. I will try and bear it for your sake.'
[CHAPTER XII.]
Two months had now passed since Oswald had taken up his abode in the capital, where he had met with a most friendly welcome. His friend and patron, Councillor Braun, ranked among the first jurisconsults of that city, and this gentleman, happy to lend a helping hand to the son of his deceased friend, stood warmly by him, advancing his interests, and lending him all the assistance in his power. He comprehended and sympathized with this young man in the resolution he had taken. It was a worthy impulse, the old lawyer felt, which withdrew Oswald from a life of dependence, easy and brilliant though it might be in outward circumstances--a right feeling which made him prefer to work and struggle on alone, rather than to receive constant benefits from his relations, and submit, in return, to play a subordinate part through life.
Herr Braun and his wife were childless, and their young guest was received by them almost on the footing of a son. Oswald threw himself zealously into the work before him, and the approaching examination left him little leisure to ruminate on all that he had left at Ettersberg; still, it surprised him greatly that no news from the castle had reached him. Edmund had replied to his first long letter full of details by only a few lines, the style of which seemed strangely forced.
An excuse was offered for this brief note on the score of a maimed hand, the writer's wound being not yet healed. Oswald was still looking for a response to his second epistle, though weeks had elapsed since it had been despatched.
The young man knew full well that by the return of that picture the bridge of communication between himself and the Countess had been broken once and for all, that she would now use every effort to loose the bonds which bound him to her son; but it seemed impossible that Edmund should succumb so quickly and completely to her influence.
Thoughtless as the young Count often showed himself, his friendship for his cousin had ever been faithful and true. He could not have forgotten the friend of his youth in the course of a few short weeks. There must be something else that prevented his writing.
The first days of December had arrived. Oswald's examination was over; he had passed it brilliantly, and was desirous of at once entering upon his new career. But Councillor Braun declared decidedly that after the exertions of the last few weeks the young man stood in need of rest, that he must grant himself a respite, and remain on some little while longer as a guest in his house.