A Twofold Life

by Wilhelmine von Hillern

Cornelia threw her arm around his neck, and gazed intently into his face; but he closed her eyes with kisses, and left the house. She went to the window and watched her lover's tall figure as he strode away. No one could bear himself more proudly, no one could hold his head more haughtily erect. Now he met an acquaintance, removed his hat slowly and condescendingly, and continued his way without glancing up, for he seemed to have noticed that the gentleman was looking after him. It wounded Cornelia, and when the latter raised his eyes to the window she blushed with a strange feeling of shame and retreated. She would not go to Veronica; something in her mood demanded solitude, so she leaned back on one of the ancient carved chairs and gazed thoughtfully at the dark oak wainscoting on the walls. Twilight spread its shadows over her,--twilight also brooded over her soul, and she knew not whether it would change into night or day. Why should she feel ashamed because that stranger looked after Ottmar and then glanced at her? why should it cause her pain because Ottmar passed on without looking? Secrecy made this caution necessary. It required that he should deny her in the presence of the first chance-comer, that she should steal a glance at her lover like a thief in the night, and blush if surprised in the act, as if she were doing wrong. How painful! how humiliating! But was this secrecy really needful? Were the reasons he alleged sufficient and strong enough not to be vanquished by the strength of a genuine, manly love? Ought he not to sacrifice everything to spare her such a humiliation? How far would his marriage with her, with their mutual fortunes, be dependent upon a crisis in office? What induced the ardent lover to consent to this patient waiting? Could his private relations exert a disturbing influence upon his position as a servant of the government? What made him so timid, if it was not the fear of forfeiting his place at court by a mesalliance with a plebeian, the daughter of a republican? But what would the delay of a few months avail?--would not the marriage be precisely the same at whatever time it occurred? If he feared that, he would never dare to wed her. She fell into a deep reverie. Suddenly her eyes flashed, and she held her breath as if the very air was poisoned. Suppose he should be false?--suppose the dread of prejudicing himself should be stronger than his integrity? She could not doubt his love, for his ardor had already made her tremble. Suppose he wished to plunge her into the same abyss that had engulfed so many others? suppose the reports concerning him were true, and he should prove false, terribly, fiendishly false? Yet scarcely was the suspicion born ere her whole nature rose against it in all its strength. What a monster you are to have the thought of such baseness arise in your young brain! Is your imagination so corrupt that the most sacred thing is not too holy to be thus sullied? Her horror was now not of him, but of herself. He was not the traitor, but she,--she who could cherish so disgraceful a doubt, whose love was not strong enough to crush it in the bud; she had betrayed him in her own heart.

She started up, rushed into her room, and lighted a lamp; then in the anguish of her soul threw herself on the floor before his picture,--the same one she had received from Fräulein Hedwig. Her eyes wandered over the sketch and strove to animate the mute features and unravel their mystery; in vain, the solution was concealed in her own breast, and everything there was confused and gloomy. Thus, tortured by doubts of him and of herself, she was at last attracted towards the pure, faithful heart of her foster-mother. She entered the tea-room and found Veronica sitting with her clasped hands resting in her lap, absorbed in sorrowful thought.

"Are you come at last, my darling? You have left your old Veronica alone a long time. But I understand it. In this solemn hour you must first be at peace with yourself. You happy, fortunate child!"

Cornelia threw herself upon a stool at Veronica's feet, and asked, cautiously, for she did not wish this unprejudiced mind to catch a glimpse of her troubled soul, "Do you believe in Heinrich as firmly as I do?"

"Certainly," replied Veronica. "I think he has given us sufficient proof that he is a man of honor."

The old servant brought a lamp and the musical urn into the room; Veronica took out her knitting-work, and as they sat so quietly together with the sweet melodies circling round them with the rising steam, the memory of the evening of their first unseen meeting rose gently before Cornelia's mind with all its magic and blessedness. Her excited nerves grew calm, her mood dissolved in tears. She remembered so many lofty words, so many glances full of true nobility of feeling. All those fair moments passed before her. With what joyful affection he had met her that day! Can one who has any evil design be so frank, so confident? Oh, if he should suspect how she had doubted him!

"Do you think it necessary to keep our love a secret?" she asked, at last.

"Oh, yes, my child," said Veronica, calmly.

"To me it is only very painful," murmured Cornelia.

"That may be; but it is something that happens a thousand times. You must be reasonable. We cannot know that he is not in the act of obtaining a higher position, and in that case his engagement with you would be an obstacle in his way. Therefore he must deny it until the expected promotion is secured; then only he can venture to defy all the prejudices of his circle and take you for his wife."