 | IV. Inklings of adventure |  |
4. IV.
I know nothing that gives one such an elevated idea
of human nature (in one's own person) as helping
another man to a woman one loves. Oh last days of
minority or thereabouts! oh primal manhood! oh
golden time, when we have let go all but the enthusiasm
of the boy, and seized hold of all but the selfishness
of the man! oh blessed interregnum of the
evil and stronger genius! why can we not bottle up
thy hours like the wine of a better vintage, and enjoy
them in the parched world-weariness of age! In
the tardy honeymoon of a bachelor (as mine will be,
if it come ever, alas!) with what joy of Paradise
should we bring up from the cellars of the past a
hamper of that sunny Hippocrene!
Pedlar Karl and “the gentleman in No. 10” would
have been suspected in any other country of conspiracy.
(How odd that the highest crime of a monarchy,
the attempt to supplant the existing ruler, becomes
in a republic a creditable profession! You are a
traitor here, a politician there!) We sat together
from midnight onwards, discoursing in low voices
over sherry and sandwiches, and in that crowded
Babylon, his entrances and exits required a very con-spirator-like
trade and his disguise were up. As a pedlar, wandering
about where he listed when not employed over his
wares, his interviews with Meeta were easily contrived,
and his lover's watch, gazing on her through the
long hours of the ball from the crowd of villagers at
the windows, hovering about her walks, and feeding
his heart on the many, many chance looks of fondness
given him every hour in that out-of-doors society,
kept him comparatively happy.
“The Baron looked hard at you to-day,” said I, as
he closed the door in my little room, and sat down on
the bed.
“Yes; he takes an interest in me as a countryman,
but he does not know me. He is a dull observer,
and has seen me but once in Germany.”
“How, then, have you known Meeta so long?”
“I accompanied her brother home from the university,
when the Baron was away, and for a long
month we were seldom parted. Riding, boating on
the Rhine, watching the sunset from the bartizan of
the old castle towers, reading in the old library, rambling
in the park and forest—it was a heaven, my
friend, than which I can conceive none brighter.”
“And her brother?”
“Alas! changed! We were both boys then, and a
brother is slow to believe his sister's beauty dangerous.
He was the first to shut the doors against me, when
he heard that the poor student had dared to love his
high-born Meeta.”
Karl covered his eyes with his hand, and brooded
for a while in silence on the remembrances he had
awakened.
“Do you think the Baron came to America purposely
to avoid you?”
“Partly, I have no doubt, for I entered the castle
entrance, and he found me at her feet in the old corridor.
It was the only time he ever saw me, if,
indeed, he saw me at all in the darkness, and he immediately
hastened his preparations for a long-contemplated
journey, I knew not whither.”
“Did you follow him soon?”
“No, for my heart was crushed at first, and I despaired.
The possibility of following them in my
wretched poverty did not even occur to me for
months.”
“How did you track them hither, of all places in
the world?”
“I sought them first in Italy. It is easy on the
continent to find out where persons are not, and after
two years' wanderings, I heard of them in Paris.
They had just sailed for America. I followed; but
in a country where there are no passports, and no
espionage, it is difficult to trace the traveller. It
was probable only that they would be at a place of
general resort, and I came here with no assurance
but hope. Thanks to God, the first sight that greeted
my eyes was my dear Meeta, whose irregular step,
as she walked back and forth with you in the gallery,
enabled me to recognise her in the darkness.”
Who shall say the days of romance are over? The
plot is not brought to the catastrophe, but we hope it
is near.
| IV. Inklings of adventure | |