Page:The Scots Magazine and Edinburgh Literary Miscellany (vol 94, 1824).djvu/594

 girl as my Eleonora. And is it possible that, for him, the noble, excellent Saalburg should be forgotten? Oh, woman! woman!—But I will expose the fellow—I will open her eyes—or my name is not Neideck.”

The Baron, who had a bad custom of speaking before he thought, was promising more than he found it easy to perform. He was completely the slave of his daughter Eleonora, a beautiful girl, the image of his wife, with whom he had enjoyed eighteen years of uninterrupted happiness. Whatever Eleonora chose to command was done; he found it impossible to refuse her a single request, or to make use of a harsh word towards her. He saw the necessity, however, of exerting himself at present, and determined that Schirmwald should leave the house the moment that Saalburg, who had been fixed on, even from his childhood, as the husband of his daughter, should arrive. “Once let me see her Saalburg’s wife,” thought he, “and all will go well.”

The door opened. Tall and slender, with something of a sorrowful and solemn expression in her countenance, Eleonora Von Neideck entered the room. Her dignified air, her dark clustering locks, shadowing her pale countenance, and falling on her shoulders, gave her the appearance rather of a sybil than the daughter of a German nobleman. But in the midst of the grace which characterized her movements, an attentive observer might perceive something of a theatrical cast—an affected elevation of language and manner, which in some measure impaired the impression which the first glance was calculated to produce. She was dressed in a black velvet robe, fitted closely to her figure, and fastened round the waist by a rich gold band and clasp. Long white plumes trailed downwards from her dark hat, and in her hand she held a riding-switch.

“Whither so fast, my daughter?” said old Neideck, feeling his resolution melting away at the sight of this beautiful vision. “To the free air,” answered Eleonora; “I come to kiss your hand.” “Oh, you are going to ride,” said the father;—“quite alone?” “Schirmwald goes with me; you need be under no apprehensions.” “Really!” “He who once saved me,” continued Eleonora with dignity, raising her dark melancholy eyes to heaven, “who, at the peril of his own life preserved mine, may well be allowed to accompany me in a short ride.”

The chief keeper of his Majesty’s forests bit his lips. “Saalburg,” said he, “will be here immediately.” “You told me so yesterday.” “He loves you, Eleonora.” “You told me that too.” “And what will you say to him if it is so?” “I will tell him the truth.” “Of course—but what is that—yes or no?” “No, father.” “No! by Heaven!” He stopped for a moment. “You do not love Saalburg?” “Not at all.” “You love,—you love,—what the devil is the use of going about the bush—you love this Schirmwald. Is it not so?” “It is so,” said Eleonora, casting her eyes down.

“No, girl! It is not, it shall not be so—I shall bear it no longer. You forget your own honour and mine. It is the talk of the whole house: you sit, and sing, and harp, and make verses together continually. At first, I was pleased at your intercourse, for I thought it might be a means of improving your taste for music: I allowed the man who had been your preserver to be the companion of your amusements and your walks; but I could not have suspected that your infatuation could ever have proceeded to this length, and I feared to warn you, lest the warning itself might increase the danger;—and thus it is that you reward my delicacy and my confidence! Leonora, you know I love you more than I can express—you know I hate all compulsion, all unnecessary exertion of authority; but make up your mind, dismiss Schirmwald—marry Saalburg.”

“Never, father,—my heart, my whole existence, are Schirmwald’s.”

“He is a miserable, deceitful wretch.” “Calumny—calumny—it is the lot of the great and the good.” “I have proofs, my daughter.” “Forgeries, framed by the malice of his enemies.” “But when you read the papers—” “I shall not believe them.”

There was a moment’s pause. The Baron resumed—“Promise me, at