Heidelberg: A Romance. Volumes I, II & III

by G. P. R. James

Agnes rose more calm than he had expected, and, laying her hand on his, she answered, "Whatever you ask me, I will do, Algernon; but you must let me watch here this night; I will come now, but it will be to return again soon; and I will try to clear my thoughts, and tell you what were the wishes and intentions of him who lies there so sadly still."

She turned her head from the bed, and, with her eyes cast down, withdrew into the outer room of the gardener's dwelling, where there was no one but an old servant; for the chief gardener himself had removed some weeks before to a more secure abode; and there, seating herself near the window, she seemed to watch with eyes half overflowing the last faint streaks of light which hung upon the western sky.

"He felt that it would end thus, Algernon," she said at length, "and often talked to me of such evil chances, as if he would prepare my mind for the event. But it went worse with him lately; for something--I know not what--had disturbed and grieved him. He spoke then of sending me to the Electress mother, and seemed doubtful and anxious; whereas before he had always seemed to feel that, if it were God's will he should fall, you would protect and defend me."

"It was, my love, that he heard suddenly, and from one who knew not all the facts," Algernon replied, "that, which he would not listen to from me."

"I fear it embittered his last hour," said Agnes, gloomily; "for he left me this morning more sad and careworn than ever. I fear that doubts and apprehensions for his child, troubled him in the hour of death."

"Not so, dear one," replied her lover;--"by a happy chance, my page found means this morning to force his way into the town, having been sent by me to England; and thus I was enabled to assure him that every obstacle between me and you was removed for ever. It is a sad and horrible tale, Agnes, not fitted for ears so pure as yours to hear; but of this, at all events, be assured, that on that score, at least, your father's heart was at rest, and that our union has his blessing."

"Oh, thank God!" said Agnes, with a deep-drawn breath, as if the bitterest part of her sorrow was withdrawn. "These are balmy tidings, indeed, Algernon. But I recollect not what I was saying.--Yes; it was that he wished me to go to the Electress Louisa; but, ere his messenger could return, the passage from the other side was cut off; and then he would have sent me forth by the passages which lead out through the rock towards the Wolf's Well, beyond the enemy's posts. But I could not go alone, and there was no single person with whom he would trust my safety. If many went, we were sure to be discovered and stopped, and the peril seemed too great for the occasion."

"Such is not the case, now," answered Algernon, the meaning of Herbert's words breaking upon him. "You are in far more peril here than anywhere in the open country. There we should only be made prisoners. But the storming of a fortress is an awful thing, Agnes, and there are fates worse than death. However," he continued, as she bent down her head with a pale cheek, "it is well to be prepared for any event. Know you the way, dear one? Have you the keys?"

"This is all that is needful," answered Agnes, drawing a key from her bosom. "He has made me wear this ever since the siege began; and long ago he taught me all the ways, with a prophetic warning that I might one day need them."

"I remember your telling me so when first we met," answered her lover; and they went on to speak of many things connected with their past, their present, and their future fate, with that desultory discursiveness in which the mind is fond to indulge in moments of deep grief. The old servant of the gardener came in upon them to light a lamp, and recalled them to the present; and the night-drum beating reminded Algernon Grey that his men were probably still in the outworks. He loved not to leave Agnes there alone; but she herself was the first to propose it. "I must go and take my place in that room," she said; "and there I will spend the night in prayer. You will leave me, dear Algernon, for you must be sadly weary. You were in arms all last night, I know."