hind it hovered all its train of hook-nosed Jews and monstrous percentages. "A mistake! echoed Herr Mohr. "It strikes me that you are making nothing but mistakes to-day; you turned the Wednesday in the date of the first letter into Ash-Wednesday, and you made Steinwurm talk of caves instead of crypts. What is this new mistake about?" "It is—it is—that is to say, I think the letter is not for you, papa; it is meant for some one else," and she crushed the perilous letter into the depth of her pocket. "Then why do you open some one else's letter," asked the invalid sharply. not speak, for fear that her voice should betray her. But, silent though she was, something in her face betrayed her all the same; for with a sudden change of tone her father said— "Why, Gretchen, you look as woe-begone as though the splendour of your own good fortune frightened you. You are luckier than a princess in a fairy tale; you cried for the moon and you have got it. What is wrong with it now? Is it too big, or too bright? Does it burn your fingers? Or would your ladyship like the sun better? It was your own wish, you know." 66 'My own wish-yes, my own wish," repeated Gretchen to her "Because - well, I think, the self. address was not distinct." "It is you who are not distinct. I could scarcely make out a line of what you read to-day; you never used to mumble in this way before. I suppose "with a touch of increased asperity-"that it is not so amusing to read aloud letters to an old man, as to walk about the hills with a young one." Gretchen could not answer, though her cheek was burning. She longed to rise and be gone to her own room, but she knew that this mood of her father's was not to be escaped. "A tiresome office," he was saying, still in that tone of melancholy cynicism which had grown upon him since his illness; "but cheer up, Gretchen, you will soon be quit of it. Instead of acting the secretary, you will be commanding one. I suppose my Lady Baroness will be too grand ever to dip a pen in ink herself, or to be troubled with deciphering the crooked caligraphy of the age?" The tears were in Gretchen's eyes; she dared not move, for fear that they should fall; she dared True again—all quite true. Belita was right; her father was right. Everywhere there stood her own wishes, her own arguments, her own words, her own self between her and-ah, between her and what? There, indeed, was the rub; something unutterable, undefinable-something which she dared not look at, dared not think of, and yet could not crush. She started from her chair; there was no peace here either, and no concealment for the poor criminal. In the privacy of her own chamber she meant to seek it; and certainly, to reach her room unmolested did not seem an unreasonable desire, nor an unfeasible undertaking. But there are days when the furies will follow a man about step by step; and the spirits of evil had hold of Gretchen today. She had not got farther than the passage when there was a rustle of drapery behind her; and turning round, she found herself confronted by her mother, who had sat by, an apparently indifferent spectator of the scene just passed. But Gretchen scarcely recognised her mother now; there was a flush on her cheek, there was light again in the eyes, which, since the day when they fell upon the walls of Draskócs, had seemed to have grown dim for ever. What had brought this change? What had worked this instantaneous transformation? Gretchen was soon to know. Ascelinde did not say much; but what she said was enough for Gretchen. Flinging her massive arms around her daughter's neck, she murmured in her ear "I could not believe it till now; it was too good to be true. I thought that Fate had nothing but disappointments in store for us. Oh, my daughter!" and her voice swelled to exultation, "Draskócs will be Draskócs after all, for you will rebuild the house of my ancestors!" Majestically she swept from the spot, and went to dream of the real stone walls that were to rise, and the real white swans that were to swim round the real Draskócs of the future. Hitherto Baron Tolnay's suit had been to her a dim and far-off thing-a sort of distantly twinkling star too shapeless to penetrate the profundity of that grief, the fondling and fostering and petting of which now formed her sole interest in life. It was only to-day, during Adalbert's pointed remarks to his daughter, that, roused from her apathy, there had flashed across her mind the grand inspiration to which she had just given utterance. She was almost as happy, while she built her Draskócs in the air, while she furnished the rooms, laid the pavement and peopled the stables, as she had been in the far-off, dream-beguiled, deceptive ante-Draskócs days. And Gretchen stood where her mother had left her, and gazed round her in the empty passage, with the stare of an animal at bay. A cold dread was creeping over her, a nameless panic was shaking her. She was chained and prisoned; but the chains were of her own forging, the prison of her own building; what right had she to complain? Golden chains! A golden prison-wall! But ah, how heavy, how oppressive! Turn which way she might, the passage was barred. On all sides the same assurance, the same smiles, the same unhesitating confidence that her lot was cast. "And it is cast! thought Gretchen. "I have cast it myself." She herself had composed the recipe for her happiness; there was no ingredient awanting neither the silver florins, nor the golden ducats, nor the coronet. How was it, then, that the result tasted so much more bitter than sweet? so much more like misery than happiness? In common logic and in common justice she had no right now to reverse her fate, and she had no idea of reversing it. A desperate quiet, a numb feeling of resignation began to steal over her. She was conscious only of a helpless shrinking from the moment of the crisis. Yesterday it had been all but completed; next time it would be completed. It was impossible to meet Baron Tolnay again as a mere acquaintance. Tomorrow they were to be on the mountains again, and tomorrow her fate would be clenched. Oh, rather to-morrow than to-day! rather next hour than this hour! rather even next minute than this minute! Respite was what she asked for, and in the meantime peace. Surely now, at last, she could reach her room undisturbed, and find there the solitude for which she panted. She was not two steps from that haven, when Kurt, turning the corner, met her close. At the sight of her brother she instantly remembered that letter in her pocket, which had lain there forgotten since the moment of the broken-off reading. Without reflection, she pulled out the crumpled paper and held it towards him. Kurt received it calmly, and read it attentively; while, speechless with sisterly indignation and brimful of overwhelming reproaches, Gretchen watched his face. There was not much to see on Kurt's face; nothing but an easy good-humour and a perfect selfconfidence was written there. "So you have found it out," he remarked pleasantly, while with serene composure he folded up the paper. "Oh, Kurt, how could you!" cried Gretchen, in her severest tone of censure, before which Kurt was accustomed not to quail. "Yes; I am in a devil of a mess!" he said, with a particularly bright smile. "Lucky for me that the way out of it is so short!" "At your age!" groaned his sister, wringing her hands, too excited to pay much heed to the latter half of his phrase. "Some of us begin early and some of us begin late," returned Kurt, with all the aplomb of a thrice-bankrupt roué. "But surely a woman of your logical powers will admit that the immorality of the proceeding is not greater at sixteen than at twenty-six?" "I admit nothing," said Gretchen; "it all comes from your smoking cigars and drinking wine, when you should have been learning your lessons in the school room." "My habits are expensive, that much I grant;" and Kurt pulled up his shirt-collar with a shade of extra complacency. "It is a great mistake my not having been born a millionaire; but it was nature who blundered there, and not I-" "No more nonsense, please," remarked Gretchen, with a frown of judicial severity; "and let us keep to what is, not to what might have been. Why have you kept the matter a secret?" "Why? Because it would have disagreed with my father." "It will disagree with him all the more when he has to pay the accumulated percentages." what you and Tolnay talked about yesterday in the cave when you stayed behind." The transition, in the first moment, might appear abrupt; but an uneasy suspicion was already knocking at Gretchen's heart. "What has that got to do with it? We talked about the cave, of course." "Oh, of course, naturally; and about the beauties of nature and the geological causes of the stoneformation, and so on. Oh yes, I know; but you will not go on talking about caves for much longer, I presume." Gretchen's scarlet. "Kurt-I Baron Tolnay?" she asked, turning at the door of the room. He looked at her for a moment, then began to laugh. "My dear Gretchen, it is you who are joking now; and I must confess that your choice of a subject is not a very happy one. You might try and hit upon something that is either more amusing or more credible." 66 Do you mean to say that I am to marry Baron Tolnay in order that your debts should be paid?" "I think you have plenty of other reasons for marrying him, and those few beggarly thousand face had grown florins can go along with it." "Do not wish to dwell upon the subject. I understand. What I meant to say was simply that I have the greatest confidence in Tolnay's coming forward in a handsome and gentlemanlike fashion, for which I esteem him highly in advance." Really, Kurt, this is unbearable!" cried Gretchen, turning away. "It is bad enough for a boy of your age to make debts; you need not make jokes about it too!" "Jokes!" echoed Kurt, goodnaturedly; "you have no notion how serious I am. There is no need for you to go in for such excessive unconsciousness, when everybody knows that the affair must be settled within the week." "What affair?" "Since you will have me speak plainly, your marriage with Baron Tolnay." "And supposing I do not marry It was to be borne no longer; the conspiracy was unanimous. The words and the smiles on all sides agreed; and every word was a new stone in the wall, every smile a golden link of the chain which she had forged to bind herself. Would not the very leaves on the trees lift up their voices next to taunt her? Would not the sparrows chirp, and the insects hum, into her ear-" You wanted it yourself; you have your wish now; of what do you complain?" Her courage had carried her thus far; it would carry her no further. She turned upon her brother a gaze which was meant to be haughty, but which first wavered into despair, and then melted into tearfulness. "Oh, Kurt, you too!" she cried, with sudden wildness; and before her brother's eyes, the cool-headed, the self-possessed, the logicalminded Gretchen burst into a storm of absolutely illogical, but not the less burning tears. REMINISCENCES OF SIR HERBERT STEWART. BY A BROTHER OFFICER. "HE is the best youngster I ever saw join a regiment," was the observation made by a popular officer of some standing in the service, shortly after Herbert Stewart joined the army. That this opinion was well deserved has been proved by the late Sir Herbert's short but brilliant career, the fatal ending of which, all who knew him and served with him do now so deeply deplore. A few reminiscences of his life, by one who had the privilege of his intimate friendship, may be interesting at the present time, while his memory is still fresh, and the circumstances amid which he met his death are still so engrossing men's minds. Herbert Stewart was gazetted ensign in the 37th Regiment, now the First Battalion of the Hampshire, in 1863. In the beginning of 1864 he joined at Aldershot, bringing with him the reputation (not an unimportant one in a good old English regiment) of having been captain of the eleven at Winchester School. The 37th were devoted to cricket, and the new subaltern proved an immense acquisition to the regimental team; he will be long remembered among cricketers as one of the best amateur wicket-keepers in England. With his valuable assistance, the regimental eleven of the old 37th was for many years hard to beat. As a youngster, Stewart never one of those who took pleasure in midnight orgies or practical jokes-amusements sometimes too much in vogue among young officers-but on festive occasions he preferred the whist-table or the billiard room, where he always was ranked much above the average player. At Dover, whence the regiment proceeded from Aldershot, Stewart mainly distinguished himself at cricket and boating. In the regimental six-oar no man pulled a better stroke. He possessed in great perfection that ready co-operation of hand and eye so essential to success in all manly sports. Some of the older members of the Dover Club must still recollect his skill at billiards-his brilliant winning hazards at pool. This may seem a trifling matter; but Stewart's play indicated that swift judgment, quick decision, and imperturbable temper which so distinguished his after-career the success of which was predicted by those who knew him well. Promotion was exceptionally rapid in the 37th Regiment at the time of which I write-many subalterns getting their companies after less than four years' service. Stewart was promoted to Lieutenant in 1865, and selected for the Adjutancy in 1866. From Dover the regiment was sent to Ireland, where it spent a short year in various stations; and officers who were then quartered in that country must still remember Stewart's feats in cricket-matches at the Curragh, Cork, and Fermoy. In July 1866 the headquarters of the 37th, with Stewart as Adjutant, embarked at Queenstown in "the good ship Blenheim," bound for Calcutta. Good ship, however, proved a misnomer in this case, as the vessel grounded on the sandbanks at the mouth of the Hooghly, where she narrowly escaped ship |