"The notion is not so dreadful as you fancy. Every sensible person gets married, and the great majority find it answer. It is really unpardonable to instil into a young girl's mind such a horror of things which come as a matter of course, and which---- Yes, Fräulein, we must stop a minute now and rest. I have no breath left. Thank God, your lungs are still as sound as a bell, or they could not have stood that rapid charge."
Agnes stopped likewise, for she too was panting for breath. Her cheeks, usually so pale, were rosy now with the exertion, and the bright colour suited her delicate little face most admirably. Dr. Brunnow perceived this, but it did not tend to soften his mood. On the contrary, he frowned reprovingly as he caught the girl's wrist, and proceeded to feel her pulse.
"Why heat yourself in this most unnecessary manner? I told you you were to be careful and to avoid fatigue. You will go home slowly now, and I must beg that when you go out for a walk you will choose some warmer covering than this thin mantle. Persevere with the medicine I prescribed for you, and, for the rest, I can only repeat my former instructions--air, exercise, cheerful occupation for the mind. Will you follow out all this punctually?"
"Yes," whispered Agnes, altogether intimidated by the tone of command assumed by the young doctor, who, despite her father's august prohibition, still played the part of family physician, and who held her little hand so firmly in his while speaking.
"I shall depend on your promise. As to my patient down yonder, we can share the treatment between us. Prepare the woman for the next world by all means, if you wish. I will do what I can to keep her in this as long as possible, and I think her husband and children will be grateful to me for it. I wish you good-morning, Fräulein."
With that he took off his hat, bowed, and, turning, struck off into the road which led to the town, while Agnes pursued her way home. Obedient to the command laid upon her, she walked slowly at the regulation pace; but, inwardly, her spirit revolted against this Dr. Brunnow. He certainly was a dreadful person, without religion, without principles of any sort, sneering at the most sacred things, and so rough and unfeeling in his manner withal! But, indeed, what could one expect from the son of a man who had wished to upset Church and State, and who had communicated to his children the same pernicious tendencies? The Councillor had related to his daughter the story of the exile's crimes, painting them in the blackest colours. She was altogether of his opinion that both Brunnows, father and son, were to be held in abhorrence; at the same time, she resolved to pay a visit to the sick woman on the morrow. It was obviously her duty to counteract, so far as in her lay, the influence of this doctor, who might, possibly, cure his patients, restoring them to bodily health, but who, while so doing, endangered their souls' salvation by declaring all spiritual consolation to be quite "superfluous."
CHAPTER IX.
Baroness Harder and the Governor were closeted in solemn conclave. In the course of their interview Raven had made his sister-in-law fully aware of the relations existing between Gabrielle and Assessor Winterfeld, and the Baroness was almost beside herself with anger and indignation on hearing the news. She had really not had the slightest suspicion of how matters stood. It had never occurred to her that the young plebeian, fortuneless Assessor could raise his eyes to her daughter, still less that the girl could encourage so misplaced an affection. Gabrielle's future had ever been associated in her mother's mind with the idea of wealth and a brilliant position. Such a union as that now in question seemed to her as absurd as impossible, and she broke into a torrent of indignant complaint touching her daughter's giddy conduct, and the "mad presumption" of that young man, who supposed he had only to stretch out his hand to secure a Baroness Harder for himself.
Raven listened some time in sombre silence, but at length he cut short the exasperated lady's flow of words.
"Enough of these lamentations, Matilda. They will not alter the past by one jot. You, of all people, have least the right to lose your temper over this business, for the mischief occurred under your very eyes. The fact that it went so far as a declaration, that the two ever came to an understanding, argues a most unpardonable negligence on your part. Some steps must now be taken in the matter, and this is the point I wish to discuss with you."