“There, Christian, that is all I can tell you of the story as it is generally current. The sequel is a secret history. What the facts are, can only be conjectured or imagined, until the proofs shall be discovered, if any such exist, and shall ever come to light.
“The baroness was so frightened at learning that the baron was staying at Pastor Mickelson’s, that she resolved to shut herself up in the old chateau, which was so very limited in extent—for the new gaard had not then been built—that it could easily be defended by a small number of faithful servants. At the head of these were Adam Stenson, already grown old in the service at the chateau, and a confidential female attendant, whose name I have forgotten.
“Now, what took place after that? It has been said that the baron succeeded in corrupting all the guardians of Stollborg, even the confidential waiting-woman and the incorruptible Stenson. But I would risk my right hand on the faith of Stenson; and, indeed, the continued good understanding between this excellent man and the baron, is to me almost conclusive proof of the innocence of the latter. There are two versions of the conclusion of this tragedy: one is that the baron imprisoned his sister-in-law so closely, and made her so unhappy in Stollborg, that she actually died of sorrow and chagrin; the other is, that she was already insane when she took up her abode there, that she soon became liable to dreadful fits of mania, and died amidst transports of impious fury, cursing the evangelical religion, and proclaiming the kingdom of Satan.
“Amid all these varying rumors there is, however, one fact certain, and that is that her pregnancy was a simulated one. Ten months after her husband’s death, in the last days of the year 1746, the baroness died at Stollborg, where she had been living for three months in a state of bodily languor and mental disorder. On her death-bed, she formally acknowledged to Pastor Mickelson and the baron, that she had not been pregnant, but had intended to bring forward a counterfeit child, who was to have been a boy, in order to retain the control of her husband’s property, and to gratify her hatred of Baron Olaus. There is still a third version, which I really only mention with reluctance. It is that the baroness actually died of starvation in this donjon, but this Stenson has always emphatically denied. Whatever the facts are, the last moments of Hilda are enveloped in mystery. None of her own relatives were living, and her husband’s family, frightened at the reports that prevailed about her religious opinions, shut their eyes to the whole business, and did not move in her behalf. They had, in fact, always liked the compliant Olaus, who flattered their prejudices, better than the high-spirited Adelstan, who was constantly offending them. It is said that this story came to the ears of the king, and that he had meant to investigate it, but that the senate, in which Olaus had powerful friends, requested his majesty to attend to his own business—that is, to attend to nothing at all.
“My father was in very ill-health when Baron Olaus came to tell him his own version of his sister-in-law’s death. For the first time my father manifested some surprise, and even a disposition to blame the baron. He told him he had done wrong to expose himself to such grave suspicions, and that if proceedings should be commenced against him his defence would be difficult. The baron, on this, showed him the declaration of Pastor Mickelson, in his double capacity of clergyman and physician, in which he testified to the feigned pregnancy of the baroness, and to her death, in consequence of an illness of which he had made a careful diagnosis, and had treated in a skilful and judicious manner, as all the physicians who had since been consulted on the subject had agreed. Moreover, he produced the declaration of the baroness, signed by her own hand, affirming that she had made a false representation of her condition. This paper my father examined rigorously, and even caused it to be scrutinized by experts in handwriting, but he found it impregnable. Still, I remember that he blamed the baron for not having called in ten physicians, instead of one only, for authenticating the facts for his own defence in so weighty a matter. But he never suspected him of any crime or imposture, and in this belief he died, a short time afterwards.
“After a time, murmurs were heard against the baron, whose conduct began to make him hated, but he very soon made himself feared also; there was no one whose direct interest it was to avenge his supposed victims, and no one came forward generous and bold enough to defy him. I myself would have done this, although then young at the bar, as I should be ready to do this moment if my suspicions were sufficiently aroused. But I was naturally influenced by my father’s opinion, and he had never gone further than to find fault with Olaus for not being prudent enough in his own behalf. Besides, my father’s death took place just about that time, and you can readily imagine that my sorrow, which was very keen, diverted my mind from other objects.
“I inherited the management of the baron’s law business, and, as I have said, notwithstanding the increasing dislike with which his political conduct and his personal manners have inspired me, I have never from that day to this been able to find the least proof of the crimes with which he is charged, or even to get hold of any probable or reliable evidence on the subject. Among his tenantry and retainers there has been a reaction in opinion about him, as might well have been expected; for as soon as he no longer needed their sympathy, he took no further pains to make himself popular. His domestics are all strangers, persons whom he substituted for the old servants immediately upon taking possession of the estate, and he pays them in a manner to secure from them blind obedience and absolute discretion. Stenson is the only one of the old household whom he has retained; he employed him for a long time as steward, but at last allowed him to retire, on account of his great age. He provides him with a suitable retreat, an honorable pension, and has always treated him with great respect, and even with marked friendliness. This has been supposed to indicate that Stenson was his accomplice; but, Christian, it is this very fact that satisfies me as to the truth of the matter, and which makes my own conscience easy; for Stenson is actually a holy man, a model of all the Christian virtues.”
[VIII.]
CHRISTIAN had listened attentively to the lawyer’s narrative, and, after a few moments’ reflection, he observed:
“There is a great deal in this history that seems to me extremely ambiguous. I feel sorry for that poor Baroness Hilda; of all the persons of this drama, she is the one who interests me the most. Who knows whether she did not really die of starvation in this horrible chamber, as so many believe.”