“Yes, Mr. Rupert. I not only permit, but must insist upon it. It must not, however, be done in my presence. You cannot suppose, young man, that I can bestow any portion of my valuable time, in sitting by while my secretary corrects his own blunders. Take these papers with you to the library. If I mistake not, the baroness permits your proceeding with the necessary business of making a catalogue of the books in my library, without your making a point of leaving the room when she enters it; and, fortunately, the noble size of the apartment permits her doing so without any inconvenience to herself. Take these papers with you, my good lad, and on no account permit yourself to be in a hurry. Rather than that you should be so, I would permit you to have a holiday from your work in the library for the remainder of the day. Your enjoying the joint offices of private secretary and librarian, will, of course, render it occasionally necessary that the great work of forming a catalogue should be suspended. Now leave me, Mr. Rupert. My time is very valuable. You are too young and inexperienced, as yet, to be aware of the many calls upon the time of a nobleman of my position; and therefore, for the present, I can only impress upon you the necessity of never breaking in upon me without having received especial permission to do so.”
Rupert bowed low, and was leaving the room in respectful silence, when the baron recalled him, to say: “Of course, you are aware, young man, that you are not to presume to sign my name to this document. I will not believe, as it is evident that you have received a very decent education — I will not believe, I say, that you would be likely to commit such an offence. It is, however, my duty, having received you as an inmate into my family, that I should not trust your being aware of so important a law, to chance. It is not impossible, indeed, or wholly improbable, that when you have listened to such a prohibition as that which I am now enforcing, you may have heard it accompanied by the formula, ‘with intent to defraud.’ But this qualification, though enough, if attended to, to exonerate you from danger in the eye of the law, is by no means sufficient, in the case of a secretary to a nobleman holding my position in society. The law contemplates only the pecuniary injury which may be done; but the feelings of a nobleman, on such subjects, are far more refined than it is within the reach of mere lawyers to understand. Do you hear me, Mr. Rupert? And do you comprehend what I mean?”
“I quite well comprehend,” replied Rupert, fixing his eyes upon the ground, “that in no way, and for no reason, my Lord Baron, would you hold me excusable were I to write your name.”
“You have expressed yourself very properly, my good lad,” replied the baron, evidently pleased by the clear and distinct manner in which his young dependent had worded the important law he had laid down; “and now,” he added, “you may leave me, my good Rupert; I have business of importance to transact, in which I shall not require your assistance.”
If the boy had looked in upon his noble master ten minutes later, and seen him, as he would have then found him, fast asleep in his arm-chair, it is possible that he might have suspected this august master to have been uttering a jest when he thus dismissed him; but, in that case, the boy would have blundered, for nothing in the least degree resembling a joke occupied the mind of the solemn baron. Perhaps he thought that he really was going to perform important business; perhaps he had some dreamy sort of notion that he would ring the bell, and tell the footman to tell the butler to tell the cook that it was probable there would be a company dinner given at the castle on the following Thursday.
But if any such active project really occurred to him, the fatigue he had undergone in transacting business with his secretary, had incapacitated him for that, or for any farther exertion; for, in truth, although he placed a hand on each arm of his chair, as if he intended to rise from it, he was too much overpowered by drowsiness to achieve the doing so; and having gently sunk back into a leaning position, had fallen into a sound sleep, which lasted till the first dinner-bell had sent its rousing peal through the castle.
CHAPTER XII.
WHEN Rupert returned with his papers to the library, he found the baroness and Gertrude rather lazily occupied; for, to say the truth, neither the mother, who had sat down with an intention to read — nor the daughter, who had sat down with an intention to draw, could fix their attention sufficiently upon what they were about, to prevent their thinking a good deal, and talking a little upon the subject of Rupert’s débût, in his capacity of secretary to the baron.
They had both been for some days aware that he had been appointed to this important office, but this was the first time he had been called upon to perform the duties attached to it.
Unfortunately — very unfortunately — as the excellent baroness often told herself, the young Gertrude von Schwanberg had a peculiarly acute sense of the ridiculous; and there was, perhaps, no point of her education which had given her mother so much trouble as she had found in keeping this unfortunate propensity in subjection. The excellent motives which had made this sort of discipline appear so peculiarly important to Madame de Schwanberg, may be easily guessed at.
Her consciousness of her own deficiencies in the respect and love with which it is the duty of a wife to regard her husband, was a subject of never-ceasing regret to her; nay, there were times when the far bitterer feeling of self-reproach was mixed with this regret; for she was ever perfectly ready to acknowledge, even to her own heart, that her noble husband was possessed of many excellent qualities, and that his obliging and observant conduct to herself had been such as ought to have atoned to her, more than they had done, for his slow and weak intellect, as well as for the many traits of character which often excited both smiles and frowns on her part, when, as she was quite ready to allow, they ought not to have excited either. But it was much easier to plead guilty to her faults in these her secret self-examinations, than to correct them in her intercourse with her husband; all that she could do, therefore, for the ease of her conscience, was to guard as much as possible from betraying any species of disrespect to him, in the presence of her daughter.
This cautious circumspection on her part, at least, produced one good effect, and that a very important one, for it prevented their ever indulging together in a smile at any of the numerous absurdities of the worthy baron. How far, in the case of Gertrude, this restraint proceeded from her own convictions of what was right and proper, and how far from compliance with the example so stedfastly exhibited by her mother, it might be difficult to say, nor did her mother seek to know.
When Rupert entered the library, with his hand full of papers, and his eyes full of fun, while the flush upon his handsome face showed plainly enough, that he had passed through some scene which had more than usually excited him, both the baroness and her daughter behaved admirably well; and that it was their purpose to do so, was proved by their not even exchanging a glance together.
The library at Schlôss Schwanberg was a very noble and spacious apartment. That part of it which was farthest removed from the door of entrance had three large windows, which commanded a view of the porch. It was here that the baroness and her young daughter spent by far the greatest part of their days.
Each of them had their own place there; a separate table large enough to contain materials for various employments, and a chair ready to be occupied by the person employed. Each of these tables was so placed as to command the view afforded by the two windows most distant from each other; while between the two, and in front of the third, was a somewhat longer table, with a sofa, well calculated for the accommodation of two lounging ladies, the table in front of it being tolerably well laden with books.
But this portion of the apartment occupied only one-third of its entire size; the lofty ceiling being in three divisions, each one marked by a very noble arch, and supported by columns of very noble proportions, which, though not advancing above three feet from the wall, gave a sort of enjoyable snugness to the three divisions of the room, which, without them, might have looked too large for comfort.
Each of the lower compartments had
its separate window, and the middle one seemed dedicated to music, for there stood the grand pianoforte, which both mother and daughter touched so ably, and there also stood a harp, and music desk.
How the lower end of the room had been arranged before the Schloss Schwanberg establishment had been augmented by a librarian and secretary, it boots not to say; but at the time of which I am now speaking, a very substantial writing-table, with all appurtenances and means to boot, was placed at a convenient distance from the lowest window; and on this table was placed not only all implements necessary for writing, but a goodly show of very ample volumes, ready to receive from the hand of Rupert the titles of the many thousand volumes which were ranged on the massive book-shelves which surrounded the room.
It should seem, from the aspect of this very noble apartment, that the climate was a cold one, for each division had its separate stove.
On the entrance of Rupert in the manner above described, the two ladies raised their eyes from their respective employments, and then, having looked at him for a moment, resumed them.
Rupert, too, for one short moment looked at them; but as they did not address him, or give any other indication of wishing him to approach, he quietly seated himself at his especial writing-table, and in a minute or two afterwards, appeared to be busily occupied with his pen.
But the sharp eyes of Gertrude speedily perceived that he was not at work upon his catalogue; and after watching him for a little while, without affecting to conceal that she was so doing, she suddenly started up, exclaiming, “Mamma! I must see what it is that papa has given him to do, before I can fix my attention upon anything I wish to do myself;” and without waiting for any reply, she bounded down the room with a very active and resolute step, and placed herself behind the chair of the young secretary.
Rupert behaved admirably well, for he did not, even for an instant, turn round his head to speak, or even to look at her. It might be, perhaps, that he dared not meet her eyes, from fearing that he might laugh. But, whatever was his motive, his demeanour was exactly what it ought to he; a fact, of which the baroness, who had followed her daughter’s movements with her eyes, was perfectly aware.
She certainly gave the lad credit for his discretion, in so steadily pursuing the occupation which had been given him, without permitting the frolicsome approach of the young lady to withdraw his attention from it; but she was not aware of half his merit; for there lay all the various sheets of papers before him, on which he had made his first abortive attempts at performing the duties of a secretary, by writing from dictation; and considering their mutual acquaintance with the peculiarities of the other party concerned, which would have required nothing more than a simple exposure of the various folios, in order to make the ludicrous scene which had passed, as obvious to Gertrude as it had been to himself; Rupert indulged not himself by making any such display; but, on the contrary, contrived to mix the paper with which he had returned so skilfully, with what he found on his table, that he thought that not even the sharp eyes of Gertrude could make any very important discovery concerning the business which had been transacted between the Baron von Schwanberg and his newly-appointed secretary.
The words, as well as the movement of Gertrude had made her mother aware both of her object, and of the unscrupulous mode she had taken to obtain it; and as the baroness happened to be so placed, as to be able to follow her wilful daughter with her eyes, without changing her own position; she had an opportunity of observing the behaviour of Rupert, as well as that of Gertrude; and she gave him great credit for the manner in which he contrived to defeat her unscrupulous curiosity, without even appearing to notice it.
She felt that the boy deserved to be trusted, and the feeling this, was really and reasonably a great satisfaction to her; for had the case been otherwise, the familiarity of intercourse, which was the almost inevitable consequence of his employment in the apartment they chiefly occupied, would have been very objectionable.
But although the baroness gave him honour due for the quiet, yet effective manner in which he had avoided the indiscretion, as well as the familiarity, of making the young lady acquainted with the business which he was transacting with her father; she was very far from being aware, either of the amount of this forbearance on his part, or of the importance of it on that of her daughter.
Well prepared as she was to give the baron credit for very great absurdity, she by no means supposed that any scene so ridiculous as the one which has just passed between him and his secretary, could have taken place; and she therefore attributed no merit to Rupert, beyond that of well-behaved discretion.
Rupert might, indeed, very easily have repaid himself for the heavy moments which he had passed in the performance of his difficult duty to his master; for the mere exposure of the various abortive dispatches to eyes and intelligence as quick as those of Gertrude, would have been quite sufficient to have explained the whole matter to her; and there was merriment enough in one smile of hers, to have atoned for more than all the heavy dullness from which he had just escaped.
But Rupert Odenthal had other good qualities, besides the courage which had urged him to spring into the water, for the purpose of saving Gertrude’s life. Rupert Odenthal “had a conscience.” The difference of age between himself and the young baroness, was only three years; but when the senior is only fifteen and a-half, such difference is apt to appear greater than it really is. Moreover, Rupert was a very manly boy of his age, and much older in proportion, as far as judgment went, than the over-indulged heiress of the Baron von Schwanberg.
There was a bounding gaiety of step in the manner in which Gertrude now approached him, which made him shrewdly suspect, that the young lady might be so indiscreet as to quiz her papa, if he afforded such an opportunity for it, as the variations in his correspondence with his noble neighbour might give; and he accordingly placed the sheets which he had brought back with him (by a hasty movement), between the pages of his blotting-book, bringing forward, almost at the same instant, a fresh sheet of paper, which he placed before him, while he commenced the dilatory operation of mending a pen.
But Gertrude had been too quick for him. Ere she had reached his chair, her eye had caught sight of the characters upon the various sheets which had been taken, and rejected; and the real state of the case was revealed to her, as distinctly as if she had been present at the scene.
Her prompt suspicion of what had passed, was, of course, materially assisted by her foregone knowledge of the dull baron’s extraordinary slowness and uncertainty upon all occasions of the kind; and for one short moment she anticipated considerable merriment, from the account which Rupert, who was by no means a dull narrator, was likely to give of the affair; but a second thought brought a repentant blush to her cheek, and she walked back again to her own little table, without saying a word. Madame de Schwanberg saw all this, and understood it too, and gave both parties the credit they deserved. Rupert was permitted to proceed with his important task as secretary without farther interruption; and when, after the judicious delay of about half-an-hour, he carried the fair-written document to the baron for his signature, that illustrious individual felt such an agreeable accession of dignity from this royal mode of giving it value and effect, that from that time forth, he never made any other use of his pen than what was necessary to sign his name; and it would, perhaps, be difficult to trace as much ingenuity and invention in any other circumstance throughout his life, as he displayed at finding occasions for performing this important ceremony.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE instance given in the last chapter of Rupert Odenthal’s discreet conduct, and more than discreet feeling, went farther, and did more, towards giving Madame de Schwanberg a respect for his character and confidence in his principles, than might have been produced by a multitude of excellent traits, all perhaps exhibiting great ability, and even good feeling also.
But the poor baroness was so deeply conscious of the profound feeling of contempt with which her nob
le husband’s intellectual deficiencies had inspired her, that she dreaded nothing so much as seeing her beloved Gertrude fall into the same sin. So blameless had been her own life, and so truly benevolent and indulgent were the feelings of her heart towards every human being with whom she had come in contact, with the sole exception of her wearisome husband, that the consciousness of this exception lay very heavily on her spirit, and the idea of her child’s being by any means betrayed into the same sin, was really terrible to her. The strong persuasion, therefore, that, instead of being led to this, she would be guarded from it, by the good sense and high principle of the boy, whom accident had thrown into such intimate contact with them, was most welcome, and consolatory.
Had Madame de Schwanberg’s practical knowledge of the world been equal, or in any fair proportion, to the information she had acquired from books, this dread, lest her daughter should sympathise too completely with her in her feelings towards the baron, would not have taken such painful possession of her; for with more experience of the world and its ways, she would have learnt that Nature never blunders as hopelessly as we sometimes blunder ourselves.
Save in some few rare and perfectly exceptional cases, we never see any dislike between parents and children, that can compare, in bitterness and intensity, to what may frequently be seen to exist between husband and wife.
The community of their worldly interests, and still more, perhaps, the community of their parental feelings, go far towards checking this; so far, indeed, that in a multitude of instances, domestic peace is not disturbed openly, by the want of personal attachment between the parties; but where parents have authoritatively interfered to bring those together whom inclination, on either side, would keep asunder, they have to answer for the heavy sin of charging the unhappy victim with a weight too heavy to be borne patiently, and a duty too difficult to be sincerely performed.
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