"I will sooner die than consign myself to misery and disgrace!"
"Be easy on that subject. God will shield you from misery, and your father's watchful eye will see that you do not consign yourself to disgrace," replied the banker, coldly. "But enough of words. Night sets in, and I have yet a few preparations to make for tomorrow. It is proper that you pass the last evening of your maiden life in solitude, and that you may not spend it in weariness, I have ordered your drawing-rooms to be lighted, and your trousseau to be laid out for your inspection. Go, and gladden your heart with its magnificence. Good-night."
So saying, Baron Eskeles Flies left the room. Rachel heard him turn the key in the lock, and withdraw it. She then remembered that the drawing-rooms were lighted. Perhaps her father had neglected to fasten some of the doors leading thence into the hall. She sprang to the door of communication, and flung it open. The rooms were brilliantly illuminated, and the sparkling chandeliers of crystal looked down upon a wilderness of velvet, satin, flowers, lace, and jewels—truly a trousseau for a princess.
But what cared Rachel for this? Indeed, she saw nothing, save the distant doors toward which she sped like a frightened doe. Alas! they, too, were locked, and the only answers to her frantic calls were the mocking echoes of her own voice.
For a few moments she leaned against the wall for support; then her glance took in the long perspective of magnificence which was to gild the hideous sacrifice of a whole human life, and she murmured, softly:
"I must be free. I cannot perjure myself. I shall keep my vow to Gunther or die! My father is no father—he is my jailer, and I owe him no longer the obedience of a child."
She went slowly back, revolving in her mind what she should do. Unconsciously she paused before a table resplendent with trinkets, whose surpassing beauty seemed to woo the young girl to her fate. But Rachel was no longer a maiden to be allured by dress. The exigencies of the hour had transformed her into a brave woman, who was donning her armor and preparing for the fight.
"Gunther awaits me," said she, musing.
But why—where? that she could not say. But she felt that she must free herself from prison, and that her fate now lay in her own hands.
At that moment she stood before a large round table which was just under the principal chandelier of her superb reception-room. Here lay dainty boxes containing laces, and caskets enclosing jewels. Not for one moment did she think of their contents. She saw but the gilt letters which were impressed upon the red morocco cases.