II.
Next day they went on to Baden. De Stancy was beginning to cultivate thepassion of love even more as an escape from the gloomy relations ofhis life than as matrimonial strategy. Paula's juxtaposition had theattribute of making him forget everything in his own history. She was amagic alterative; and the most foolish boyish shape into which he couldthrow his feelings for her was in this respect to be aimed at as the actof highest wisdom.
He supplemented the natural warmth of feeling that she had wrought inhim by every artificial means in his power, to make the distraction themore complete. He had not known anything like this self-obscuration fora dozen years, and when he conjectured that she might really learn tolove him he felt exalted in his own eyes and purified from the dross ofhis former life. Such uneasiness of conscience as arose when he suddenlyremembered Dare, and the possibility that Somerset was getting oustedunfairly, had its weight in depressing him; but he was inclined toaccept his fortune without much question.
The journey to Baden, though short, was not without incidents on whichhe could work out this curious hobby of cultivating to superlative poweran already positive passion. Handing her in and out of the carriage,accidentally getting brushed by her clothes, of all such as this he madeavailable fuel. Paula, though she might have guessed the general natureof what was going on, seemed unconscious of the refinements he wastrying to throw into it, and sometimes, when in stepping into or from arailway carriage she unavoidably put her hand upon his arm, the obviousinsignificance she attached to the action struck him with misgiving.
One of the first things they did at Baden was to stroll into theTrink-halle, where Paula sipped the water. She was about to put down theglass, when De Stancy quickly took it from her hands as though to makeuse of it himself.
'O, if that is what you mean,' she said mischievously, 'you shouldhave noticed the exact spot. It was there.' She put her finger on aparticular portion of its edge.
'You ought not to act like that, unless you mean something, Miss Power,'he replied gravely.
'Tell me more plainly.'
'I mean, you should not do things which excite in me the hope that youcare something for me, unless you really do.'
'I put my finger on the edge and said it was there.'
'Meaning, "It was there my lips touched; let yours do the same."'
'The latter part I wholly deny,' she answered, with disregard, afterwhich she went away, and kept between Charlotte and her aunt for therest of the afternoon.
Since the receipt of the telegram Paula had been frequently silent; shefrequently stayed in alone, and sometimes she became quite gloomy--analtogether unprecedented phase for her. This was the case on the morningafter the incident in the Trink-halle. Not to intrude on her, Charlottewalked about the landings of the sunny white hotel in which they hadtaken up their quarters, went down into the court, and petted thetortoises that were creeping about there among the flowers and plants;till at last, on going to her friend, she caught her reading some oldletters of Somerset's.
Paula made no secret of them, and Miss De Stancy could see that morethan half were written on blue paper, with diagrams amid the writing:they were, in fact, simply those sheets of his letters which related tothe rebuilding. Nevertheless, Charlotte fancied she had caught Paula ina sentimental mood; and doubtless could Somerset have walked in atthis moment instead of Charlotte it might have fared well with him,so insidiously do tender memories reassert themselves in the face ofoutward mishaps.
They took a drive down the Lichtenthal road and then into the forest, DeStancy and Abner Power riding on horseback alongside. The sun streamedyellow behind their backs as they wound up the long inclines, lightingthe red trunks, and even the blue-black foliage itself. The summer hadalready made impression upon that mass of uniform colour by tippingevery twig with a tiny sprout of virescent yellow; while the minutesounds which issued from the forest revealed that the apparently stillplace was becoming a perfect reservoir of insect life.
Abner Power was quite sentimental that day. 'In such places as these,'he said, as he rode alongside Mrs. Goodman, 'nature's powers in themultiplication of one type strike me as much as the grandeur of themass.'
Mrs. Goodman agreed with him, and Paula said, 'The foliage forms theroof of an interminable green crypt, the pillars being the trunks, andthe vault the interlacing boughs.'
'It is a fine place in a thunderstorm,' said De Stancy. 'I am not anenthusiast, but to see the lightning spring hither and thither,like lazy-tongs, bristling, and striking, and vanishing, is ratherimpressive.'
'It must be indeed,' said Paula.
'And in the winter winds these pines sigh like ten thousand spirits introuble.'
'Indeed they must,' said Paula.
'At the same time I know a little fir-plantation about a mile squarenot far from Markton,' said De Stancy, 'which is precisely like thisin miniature,--stems, colours, slopes, winds, and all. If we were to gothere any time with a highly magnifying pair of spectacles it would lookas fine as this--and save a deal of travelling.'
'I know the place, and I agree with you,' said Paula.
'You agree with me on all subjects but one,' he presently observed, in avoice not intended to reach the others.
Paula looked at him, but was silent.
Onward and upward they went, the same pattern and colour of treerepeating themselves endlessly, till in a couple of hours they reachedthe castle hill which was to be the end of their journey, and beheldstretched beneath them the valley of the Murg. They alighted and enteredthe fortress.
'What did you mean by that look of kindness you bestowed upon me justnow, when I said you agreed with me on all subjects but one?' askedDe Stancy half humorously, as he held open a little door for her, theothers having gone ahead.
'I meant, I suppose, that I was much obliged to you for not requiringagreement on that one subject,' she said, passing on.
'Not more than that?' said De Stancy, as he followed her. 'But wheneverI involuntarily express towards you sentiments that there can be nomistaking, you seem truly compassionate.'
'If I seem so, I feel so.'
'If you mean no more than mere compassion, I wish you would show nothingat all, for your mistaken kindness is only preparing more misery for methan I should have if let alone to suffer without mercy.'
'I implore you to be quiet, Captain De Stancy! Leave me, and look outof the window at the view here, or at the pictures, or at the armour, orwhatever it is we are come to see.'
'Very well. But pray don't extract amusement from my harmless remarks.Such as they are I mean them.'
She stopped him by changing the subject, for they had entered anoctagonal chamber on the first floor, presumably full of pictures andcuriosities; but the shutters were closed, and only stray beams of lightgleamed in to suggest what was there.
'Can't somebody open the windows?' said Paula.
'The attendant is about to do it,' said her uncle; and as he spoke theshutters to the east were flung back, and one of the loveliest views inthe forest disclosed itself outside.
Some of them stepped out upon the balcony. The river lay along thebottom of the valley, irradiated with a silver shine. Little rafts ofpinewood floated on its surface like tiny splinters, the men who steeredthem not appearing larger than ants.
Paula stood on the balcony, looking for a few minutes upon the sight,and then came into the shadowy room, where De Stancy had remained. Whilethe rest were still outside she resumed: 'You must not suppose that Ishrink from the subject you so persistently bring before me. I respectdeep affection--you know I do; but for me to say that I have any suchfor you, of the particular sort you only will be satisfied with, wouldbe absurd. I don't feel it, and therefore there can be nothing betweenus. One would think it would be better to feel kindly towards you thanto feel nothing at all. But if you object to that I'll try to feelnothing.'
'I don't really object to your sympathy,' said De Stancy, rather struckby her seriousness. 'But it is very saddening to thi
nk you can feelnothing more.'
'It must be so, since I CAN feel no more,' she decisively replied,adding, as she stopped her seriousness: 'You must pray for strength toget over it.'
'One thing I shall never pray for; to see you give yourself to anotherman. But I suppose I shall witness that some day.'
'You may,' she gravely returned.
'You have no doubt chosen him already,' cried the captain bitterly.
'No, Captain De Stancy,' she said shortly, a faint involuntary blushcoming into her face as she guessed his allusion.
This, and a few glances round at the pictures and curiosities, completedtheir survey of the castle. De Stancy knew better than to trouble herfurther that day with special remarks. During the return journey he rodeahead with Mr. Power and she saw no more of him.
She would have been astonished had she heard the conversation of the twogentlemen as they wound gently downwards through the trees.
'As far as I am concerned,' Captain De Stancy's companion was saying,'nothing would give me more unfeigned delight than that you shouldpersevere and win her. But you must understand that I have no authorityover her--nothing more than the natural influence that arises from mybeing her father's brother.'
'And for exercising that much, whatever it may be, in my favour I thankyou heartily,' said De Stancy. 'But I am coming to the conclusion thatit is useless to press her further. She is right! I am not the man forher. I am too old, and too poor; and I must put up as well as I can withher loss--drown her image in old Falernian till I embark in Charon'sboat for good!--Really, if I had the industry I could write some goodHoratian verses on my inauspicious situation!... Ah, well;--in this wayI affect levity over my troubles; but in plain truth my life will not bethe brightest without her.'
'Don't be down-hearted! you are too--too gentlemanly, De Stancy, inthis matter--you are too soon put off--you should have a touch of thecanvasser about you in approaching her; and not stick at things. Youhave my hearty invitation to travel with us all the way till we cross toEngland, and there will be heaps of opportunities as we wander on. I'llkeep a slow pace to give you time.'
'You are very good, my friend! Well, I will try again. I am full ofdoubt and indecision, mind, but at present I feel that I will try again.There is, I suppose, a slight possibility of something or other turningup in my favour, if it is true that the unexpected always happens--forI foresee no chance whatever.... Which way do we go when we leave hereto-morrow?'
'To Carlsruhe, she says, if the rest of us have no objection.'
'Carlsruhe, then, let it be, with all my heart; or anywhere.'
To Carlsruhe they went next day, after a night of soft rain whichbrought up a warm steam from the Schwarzwald valleys, and caused theyoung tufts and grasses to swell visibly in a few hours. After theBaden slopes the flat thoroughfares of 'Charles's Rest' seemed somewhatuninteresting, though a busy fair which was proceeding in thestreets created a quaint and unexpected liveliness. On reaching theold-fashioned inn in the Lange-Strasse that they had fixed on, thewomen of the party betook themselves to their rooms and showed littleinclination to see more of the world that day than could be gleaned fromthe hotel windows.