"It is already arranged," said Valerie, who had overheard the last words as she entered; "the carriage is at the door."
The happy lovers had not heard the noise of wheels in the deep sand, nor had they heard the hoofs of the horse of the rider whom Aunt Valerie had seen through the window, and whose message she had gone out of the room to receive.
He was there; he had commanded her to come!—She knew it, before she opened the letter which François handed her. She read the letter in the little room to the left, standing at the open window, while François stood outside, and then in the inclosure, and she had laughed aloud as she read it, and torn the sheet to pieces and hurled them out of the window into the storm, which carried them away in an instant.
"Madame laughs," François had said—in French, as usual when he wanted to speak emphatically.—"But I assure Madame that it is not a laughing matter, and that if Madame is not at the castle by six o'clock it will be a great misfortune."
"I shall come."
François bowed, mounted his horse again—he still held his bridle in his hand—and, giving his horse the spurs and bowing almost to the saddle, hurried away to the breathless astonishment of the children of the pilots, who had been attracted by the unusual spectacle of a horseman—while Valerie asked Mrs. Rickmann to have the carriage brought from the stable of the chief pilot in the village, and then—with heavy heart—went to separate the happy lovers. But she decided upon the last meeting with the detestable despised man, only because of those she loved and for whom she wished to save, in the impending catastrophe, what remained to be saved! It would not be much—she knew his avarice full well—but yet perhaps enough to secure the future for Else and free poor Ottomar from his embarrassments. And she smiled as she thought that even Else could believe that all this was for her sake, for her future!—Great God!
Else was ready at once, and Reinhold did not try to detain her with a word or a look. He would have been so glad to accompany them, but that was not to be thought of. He could not now leave his post an hour; duty might call him any moment!
And Else hadn't her wrap on when a pilot came in, bringing news of a boat which had gone out at two o'clock to a steamer signaled from Wissow Hook and flying the signals of distress. They were launched in ten minutes, and in half an hour were past the Hook, but they hadn't found the steamer, which had reached the open sea around Golmberg, as they had seen after passing there on their return—it was half-past four; they had been terrified at the surf, which had risen along the dunes between the Hook and Golmberg, and held to as long as possible to ascertain whether the sea had broken through as Reinhold had predicted. They were not able to determine that at first because of the heavy surf; but as they came nearer, in order to be sure about it, Claus Lachmund first, and then the others, saw two persons on the White Dune, one apparently a woman, who did not stir, the other a man who made a sign. But, in spite of all efforts, they had not been able to get over there—indeed they were lucky to get afloat again after sailing so close to the White Dune—and had then seen that the breach had been made by the sea—certainly to the north and south of the White Dune, and possibly at other places—for they had seen nothing but water landward—how far they could not say—the fog was too dense. It must be bad in Ahlbeck, too; but they did not approach nearer, because those there, with the Hook near by, could not be in peril; but the situation of the two on the White Dune would be very serious if they were not rescued before night.
"Who can the unfortunate ones be?" asked Valerie.