Unromantic though it may sound, I must confess to having slept well on the first night I spent under the roof of my mother’s ancestors. Sleep surprised me whilst I was reflecting on the strange and incomprehensible character of Francis. Proud, generous, noble-hearted, quick-witted, beautiful—and yet with all her charms (which I could feel had already begun to work upon me) spoilt by a detestable education, by the manners of a sutler and a rudeness of the worst kind. And then, in addition to all this, there was the question of her past life which I had heard painted in such black colours. It seemed doubtful whether Major Frank could ever become Lady Francis van Zonshoven.

When I awoke the sun was streaming through the one window whose shutters I had purposely left open, with the intention of taking an early morning walk. I crept silently down the stairs so as not to awake anybody, but I met Fritz in the vestibule, and he made his military salute in silence. The hall door was wide open. I took the direction of the home-farm, where I hoped to obtain a glass of new milk, and draw the tenants out a little about the inhabitants of the Castle—one in particular.

I had not gone very far before whom should I see coming from the farm but Francis herself, with a basket of fresh eggs.

After a moment’s hesitation I asked—

“Are we again good friends?” For I had an idea she would have taken another path if she had seen me a little sooner.

“I never knew we had ceased to be so,” she answered, colouring a little.

“Hem! Towards the close of the evening, in spite of what you may say to the contrary.”

“Say, rather, in spite of myself. Believe me, Leo, I was not morose out of caprice; I was troubled and anxious. I saw my manner displeased you, but I was afraid that to flatter grandfather’s weakness you were suffering yourself to become his dupe.”

“And even in that case I could not permit you to interfere.”

“You had told me you were poor, that you must economize, and then to squander your money in such a way in our house—it seemed to me like card-sharping.”

“No, no; nothing of the sort. But supposing it had been, you have tact enough to understand that it was beneath my dignity to take the money back.”

“That’s true, I am of your opinion; but I warned you beforehand that my manners were bad.”

“I think it less a question of bad manners than a certain arrogance, a certain despotism——”

“Well, then, pardon the arrogance, the despotism,” she said jestingly; “still, if I confess you were in the right and that I deserve correction, will you on your part acknowledge that you are making somewhat too much ado about a little mistake?”

“But you, who are so proud, how can you suppose that a man will consent to be protected by a woman?”

“Again you are right, Leopold; such a man would be like so many others I know.”

“Pardon me, Francis; our friendship is like a tender plant, and we must cultivate it so as to prevent its taking a crooked turn.”

“If you regard our friendship in such a serious light,” she resumed, whilst a slight blush suffused her cheeks, “I will capitulate on condition that our little quarrel of last night be forgotten and forgiven.”

I felt myself under the charm again, and seizing her hand in a transport of joy, I covered it with kisses.

“Leo, what are you doing?” she cried, pale and with tears in her eyes.

“Sealing the bond of our friendship.”

“Leo, Leo! you know not what you do,” she said softly; “you forget to whom you are speaking—I am Major Frank.”

“I will have no more of Major Frank; my cousin Francis Mordaunt must suffer me to offer her my arm.” And taking her hand again, I gently drew her arm within mine. She submitted in silence, with a singular expression of dejection on her face.

“I feel it will do me good to talk to you for once in this way, though it may be the first and only time. Where are you going, Leo?”

“To the farm yonder; I see you have been there already for eggs; let me carry the basket for you.”

“No, thank you. I had not reckoned on the eggs, but the good people insisted upon my taking them; I went to see a patient.”

“A patient! Do you play the doctor?”

“I do a little of everything; but the patient in question is a dog, a dear, faithful creature, my poor ‘Veldher,’ who has broken his leg, and will suffer no one to touch him but myself. Another trouble I have brought on myself; and yet, if the others could be remedied as easily!” she said, with a profound sigh.

She became pale as death, her lips quivered, and, withdrawing her arm from mine, she stood still, covering her face with her hands as if she would force back the tears already rolling down her cheeks. I remained by her side, and after a pause I said, with gentle earnestness—

“Tell me what has happened, Francis; it will be a relief to you and ease your mind.”

“Yes,” she resumed, calmly, “I must confide my sufferings to some one, but not now. I will not spoil our morning walk by calling up such a frightful scene. I can myself scarcely understand how it is possible that I, who cannot bear to see dumb creatures suffer, have to reproach myself with the death of one of my fellow-men.”

“I beseech you to tell me all, trusting in me for my sincerest sympathy.”

“Not now,” she cried; “what good would it do? It would only embitter the few minutes we have to spend together.”

“May I help you with a word it seems to cost you trouble to pronounce? Is it not a certain unfortunate incident with regard to your coachman?”

“Just so, that’s it,” she replied, assuming her defiant and bitter tone. “If you wish to know more about it, ask the people at the farm—they know all the particulars.”

“I shall take good care not to go making inquiries into your secrets behind your back, Francis.”

“My secrets!” she exclaimed, her voice quivering with indignation. “There is no secret in the matter. It is a question of a dreadful accident, which happened on the public high-road in the presence of a crowd of spectators attracted by the noise; but the occasion was not lost to set public opinion against me. Was it not Major Frank, who never acted like anybody else—Major Frank the outlaw! It would have been a pity to let such an opportunity of blackening her character pass. I ought to have reflected that you would have heard the story; and very likely you are come here ‘to interview’ the heroine of such a romantic adventure. It would be a pity you should lose your pains. There’s the farm—go straight on and ask the people to tell you all about the affair between Major Frank and her coachman Harry Blount; both the man and his wife were witnesses. And, Jonker van Zonshoven, when they have satisfied you, you may return to the Werve to take your leave, and return as you came.”

And off she ran, without giving me time to answer, leaving me in a state of terrible confusion.

One thing at last seemed clear to me; I had lost her for ever. Should I follow and overtake her? She appeared resolute to tell me no more. Yet I must know more! I could neither stay at the Werve nor go away until my doubts were cleared up.

I went on to the farm, and was soon served with a glass of milk. The farmer’s wife seemed to know all about my visit, and thought it quite natural for the Freule to send me there for a glass of new milk. She was loud in her praises of the Freule, said her equal was not to be found in the whole aristocracy, “so familiar and kind-hearted, but at times flighty, and then she goes off like a locomotive”—she pronounced it “leukemetief.” But it would be impossible for me to reproduce her Guelders dialect; and, to confess a truth, I had myself sometimes great difficulty in understanding her.

She showed me the farm and the dog, a splendid brown pointer who allowed me to stroke him, probably for his mistress’ sake. Once the good farmer’s wife had loosened her tongue, she rattled away with great volubility—

“Yes, she was sorry the General was no longer their landlord; but Overberg was not a bad fellow—he had made many repairs, and even promised to build a new barn which the General would never consent to. It was a pity for the man! A good gentleman, but he took no interest in farming; the whole place must have gone to wrack and ruin if the General had not agreed to sell it before it was too late. The Freule was sorry, for she liked farming; she had learned to milk, and talked to the cows just as if they were human beings. And horses—yes, Jonker, even the plough horses, before they go out into the field in the morning, she talks to them. My husband was groom to her grandfather, in his youth; I think I can see the greys she used to drive with so much pride, and Blount the coachman at her side, as proud as a king, with his arms folded, and looking as if the team belonged to him. Oh dear, yes! And now all that grandeur has disappeared. The beautiful carriage-horses are sold, and the Freule has only her English horse which my husband stables and grooms for her. What a sin and shame it is when the gentry fall into such decay! And the family used to be the greatest in these parts, and good to their tenants. My parents and grandparents always lived on the estate; but oh, oh! since the marriage of the eldest Freule Roselaer, they have never prospered. What can I say? ‘A house divided against itself cannot stand,’ as the Scriptures tell us. The Jonker has certainly heard of all these things?”

“Enough, Mrs. Pauwelsen, more than enough,” I responded, for the good woman’s chatter was becoming insupportable. I hastily took my leave of her and arrived just in time for breakfast; in fact, I was in the breakfast-parlour before either the Captain or the General. Francis was alone, but when she saw me she left the room under the pretext of seeing if the tea-water boiled.

“Stay, Francis—I think I have a right to a kinder reception.”

“On what do you ground your right? Have you now satisfied your curiosity?”

“I know nothing, Francis; I asked no questions.”

“Asked nothing! on your word of honour?”

“I have not asked two words, Francis. I did not ask, because I did not want to hear anything.”

“Forsooth! You have shown more self-control than I thought a man capable of.”

“Are the women so much our superiors in this respect?”

“If it be necessary, we can keep quiet.”