by G. A. Henty
Fergus wrote a note to the general of the division, and Karl returned with a pass authorizing Count Eulenfurst’s carriage to pass through the lines, at any time.
“There is one difficulty I have not thought of, count. I have no civilian clothes. Those I brought with me were left in the magazine at Dresden, when I first marched away; and there they have been, ever since. But indeed, even if I had them, I do not think that they would fit me; seeing that I have grown some four inches in height since I came out, and at least as much more round my shoulders.”
“I thought of that,” the count said, “and have brought with me a suit from Dresden that will, I think, fit you as well as an invalid’s clothes can be expected to fit.”
The next morning an early start was made. No difficulties were encountered on the way and, although sundry detours had to be made, they reached the count’s house after a three-hours’ drive. Thirza ran down to meet them as the count drove up; and she gave a little cry of surprise, and pity, as the count helped Fergus to alight.
“I shall soon be better, countess,” he said with a smile, as he held out his hand. “I am quite a giant in strength, compared with what I was a fortnight ago; but just at present I am a little tired, after the drive.”
“You look dreadfully bad,” the girl said. “Still, I hope we shall soon bring you round again. My father said you would be back with him about this time, and we shall begin by giving you some soup, at once.”
As they entered the hall, the countess herself came down.
“Welcome back again! I may say, I hope, welcome home again, Major Drummond!”
“Colonel Drummond,” the count corrected. “He is one of Frederick’s colonels now.”
“I congratulate you,” she went on, “though just at present, you certainly do not look a very formidable colonel. However, we will soon build you up; but don’t try to talk now. I see the journey has been almost too much for you.
“In here, please. I thought you had better take something before you climbed the stairs.”
A meal was laid, in a room leading off the hall; and after a basin of soup and a couple of glasses of Rhine wine, Fergus felt much better.
“That is right,” the count said. “You have now got a tinge of colour in your cheeks.
“Come, Thirza, you must not look so woebegone, because our knight is pulled down a bit. Invalids want a cheerful face and, unless you brighten up, I shall not intrust any of the nursing duties to you.”
Thirza tried to smile, but the attempt was a very forced one.
“It has been a surprise,” she said quietly, but with an evident effort. “You see, I have always seen Colonel Drummond looking so strong and bright. Though I knew that he had been very ill, somehow I did not expect to see him like this.”
“But I can assure you I am better,” Fergus said, laughing. “I did feel done when we arrived, but I can assure you that is not my normal state; and being here among you all will very soon effect a transformation. In a very short time you will see that I shall refuse altogether to be treated as an invalid, and my nurse’s post will be a sinecure.”
“Now you had better go and lie down, and get a sleep for two or three hours,” the countess said, decidedly. “You will have your old bedroom, and we have fitted up the next room as a sitting room. We know a good many of the Austrian and Confederate officers, and of an afternoon and evening they often drop in; and although we are not afraid of questions, it will be more pleasant for you to have a place of your own.
“Still, I hope you will be able to be out in the garden behind the house, the best part of the day, under the trees. You would be as safe from interruption, there, as if you were a hundred miles away from Dresden. We have arranged that Thirza shall have chief charge of you, out there; while the count and I will look after you while you are in the house.”
Fergus obediently lay down and slept for some hours. As the countess had arranged, he rang his bell on waking and, hearing from the servant who answered it that there were no visitors downstairs, he went down. The count had gone out, but the countess and Thirza went out into the grounds with him; and he found that, in a quiet and shady corner, a sofa had been placed for his use, with a table and two or three chairs.
The countess remained chatting with him until a servant came out, to say that three Austrian officers had called; and she went in, leaving him to the charge of Thirza. For two or three hours they talked together, and were then joined by the count and countess; when Fergus told them the piece of good fortune that had befallen him, by recovering his father’s estates. They were greatly pleased and interested.
“And are they extensive?” the count asked.
“They are extensive,” he said, “if taken by acreage; but if calculated by the revenue that they bring in, they would seem small to you. But at any rate, they suffice to make one wealthy in Scotland. The large proportion of it is mountain and moorland; but as the head of my clan, I shall hold a position far above what is represented by the income. Two hundred men were ready to draw sword, at my father’s orders, and to follow him in battle.
“I don’t know that, here in Germany, you can quite understand the ties that bind the members of a clan to their head. They do not regard him as tenants regard a lord; but rather as a protector, a friend, and even a relation. All disputes are carried to him for arbitration. The finest trout from the stream, the fattest buck from the hills, are sent to him as an offering. They draw their swords at his bidding, and will die for him in battle. To them he is a sort of king, and they would obey his orders, were he to tell them to rise in rebellion.
“The feeling is to some extent dying out and, since Culloden, the power of the clans has greatly abated. Nevertheless, some of the Highland regiments in our army were raised by chiefs wholly from their own clansmen.
“In many respects this restoration of my inheritance changes my position altogether. As I told you the last time I was here, I shall stop until this terrible war is over. The king has been most kind and gracious to me, and to leave before the struggle is over I should feel to be an act of desertion. Once the sword is sheathed, I intend to return to Scotland; for I should not care to remain in the service, when there is nought but life in garrison to look forward to. Moreover, the strength of the army would, of course, be largely diminished, at once.
“What I should do afterwards, I know not. Perhaps I might obtain a commission in our own army, for there are always opportunities of seeing service in America, India, or elsewhere, under the British flag. More likely I shall, at any rate for a time, remain at home. My mother has no other child, and it is a lonely life, indeed, for her.”
“Do you not think of settling here?”
“What is there for me to do, count, outside the army? I could not turn merchant, for I should assuredly be bankrupt, at the end of the first month; nor could I well turn cultivator, when I have no land to dig. Now, however, my future is determined for me; and a point that has, I own, troubled me much, has been decided without an effort on my part.”
The conversation was continued for some little time, the count asking many questions about Fergus’s ancestral home, the scenery, and mode of life. Fergus noticed that Thirza took no part in the conversation, but sat still; and looked, he thought, pale.
The days succeeded each other quietly and uneventfully, and Fergus gained strength rapidly; so that, in the middle of July, he began to feel that he was again fit for service. One evening he was sitting alone in the garden with the count, when the latter said to him:
“You remember our conversation on the first evening of our coming here, as to the impossibility of your doing anything, did you remain out here after leaving the army. There was one solution to which you did not allude. Many Scottish and Irish soldiers, both in this country, in France, Austria, and Germany, have married well. Why should you not do the same?”
Fergus was silent for a minute, and then he said:
“Yes, count; but they continued in the service, rose
to the rank of generals and, as in the case of my cousin Keith, to that of marshal.”
“But you might do the same, if you remained in the army,” the count said. “You are assuredly, by far, the youngest colonel in it. You are a favourite of the king’s, and might hope for anything.”
“I am afraid, count, I have too much of our Scottish feeling of independence; and should not, therefore, like to owe everything to a wife.”
“The feeling is creditable, if not carried too far,” the count said. “You have a position that is a most honourable one. You have made your name famous in the army, where brave men are common. You possess the qualities of youth, a splendid physique, and—I don’t wish to flatter you—a face that might win any woman’s fancy. There are none, however placed, who might not be proud of such a son-in-law.”
“You judge everyone by yourself, count,” Fergus said slowly. “You overrate my qualities, and forget the fact that I am, after all, but a soldier of fortune.”
“Then you never thought of such a thing?”
Fergus was silent for a minute, and then said:
“We may think of many things, count, that we know, in our hearts, are but fancies which will never be realized.”
“Let us suppose a case,” the count said. “Let us take a case like mine. You did me an inestimable service. You certainly saved my life, and the lives of several others; including, perhaps, those of my wife and daughter. The latter has constantly heard your name associated with deeds of valour. Would it be improbable that she should feel a depth of gratitude that would, as she grew, increase into a warmer feeling; while you, on your part, might entertain a liking for her? Would it be such an out-of-the-way thing for you to come to me, and ask her hand? Or an out-of-the-way thing that I should gladly give her to you?”
“It may not seem so to you, count,” Fergus said quietly; “but it has seemed so to me. I understand what you are so generously saying but, even with such encouragement, I can scarce dare to ask what seems to me so presumptuous a question. For four years, now, this house has been as a home to me; and it was but natural that, as your daughter grew up, I should have grown to love her. I have told myself, hundreds of times, that it would be, indeed, a base return for your kindness, were I to try to steal her heart; and never have I said a single word to her that I would not have said, aloud, had you and her mother been present. During the month that I have been here, now, I have struggled hard with myself; thrown with her, as I have been, for hours every day. But I have made up my mind that no word should ever pass my lips; and if it has done so, now, it is because you have drawn it from me.”
“I am glad that I have done so,” the count said, gravely. “For the last two years I have hoped that this might be so, for in no other way could I repay our debt of gratitude to you. I cannot tell what Thirza’s thoughts are; but there have been three suitors for her hand this year, any of whom might well, in point of means and character, have been considered suitable; but when I spoke to her she laughed at the idea and, though she said nothing, I gathered that her love was already given.
“As my only child, her happiness is my first consideration. As to the question of means, it is absurd to mention them; for did she marry the wealthiest noble, she could desire no more than she will have. I told you, the first time you came to us after that terrible night, that we should always regard you as one of ourselves. We have done so; and I can assure you that her mother and I desire nothing better for her.
“For your sake, I am glad that you have come into this Scottish estate; but for my own I care nothing for it, and indeed, am in one respect sorry; for you will naturally wish that, for a part of the time each year, she should reside there with you.
“Now, that has not been so dreadful, has it?”
“Not in any way, count; and I thank you, with all my heart, for your kindness. My feeling for your daughter has grown up gradually, and it was not until I was last here that I recognized how much I cared for her. I then, when I went away, resolved it would be better for me not to return; at any rate, not to stay here again, until I heard that she was married. It is true that I talked of paying you a visit, even were Dresden captured; but I knew that when the time came I should be able to find excuses for not doing so. During the time that I was laid up with fever, she was ever in my mind; but the necessity for my remaining away from here only impressed itself, more and more strongly, upon me.
“Then you appeared, and carried me off. I could not refuse to come, without giving my reason; but I fully determined that in no way, by look or word, would I allow her to see that I regarded her other than as the daughter of my kind host. I have had a hard fight to keep that resolution, for each day my feelings have grown stronger and stronger; and I had resolved that, before I left, I would own to you, not my presumption, for I have not presumed, but my weakness, and ask you to press me no more to come here, until your daughter was married.”
“You have acted just as I should have expected from you, Drummond. The great hope of the countess and myself has been to see Thirza happily married. Fortune or position in a suitor have been altogether immaterial points, excepting that we would assure ourselves that it was not to obtain these that her hand was sought. From the first we have regarded you, not only with gratitude, but with deep interest. It seemed to us only natural that, after so strange and romantic a beginning to your acquaintance, Thirza should regard you with more than ordinary interest. To her you would be a sort of hero of romance. We watched you closely then, and found that in addition to your bravery you possessed all the qualities that we could desire. You were modest, frank, and natural. So far from making much of the service you had rendered us, you were always unwilling to speak of it; and when that could not be avoided, you made as little of it as possible.
“I spoke several times of you to Marshal Keith, and he said that he regarded you almost as a son, and spoke in the highest terms of you. We saw, or fancied we saw, in the pleasure which Thirza betrayed when you returned after each of your absences; and in the anxiety which she evinced when battles had taken place, until I could ascertain that your name was not among the lists of killed and wounded; that what we had thought likely was taking place, and that she regarded you with an interest beyond that which would be excited by gratitude only.
“As to yourself, and your thoughts on the subject, we knew nothing. We never saw anything in your manner to her that showed that your heart was affected. You chatted with her as freely and naturally as to us and, even since you have been here this time, we have observed no change in you. And yet, it seemed to us well-nigh impossible that a young soldier should be thrown so much with a girl who, though it is her father who says so, is exceptionally pretty and of charming manners, and continue to regard her with indifference; unless, indeed, he loved elsewhere, which we were sure in your case could hardly be. I had however, like yourself, determined to speak on the matter before you left us; as, had you not felt towards her as we hoped, the countess and I agreed that it would be better, for her sake, that we should not press you to come to stay with us again until she was married.
“I am truly glad that the matter stands as we had hoped. I can only repeat that there is no one to whom we could intrust her happiness so confidently as to you.”
“I will do my best to justify your confidence, count,” Fergus said warmly.
“Now I will go into the house and tell my wife, and then we can acquaint Thirza. It is the custom here, at least among people of rank, for the parents first to acquaint their daughter with a proposal that has been made for her hand, and of their wishes on the subject. Parental control is not carried to the point, now, that it used to be; and maidens sometimes entertain different opinions to those of their parents. Happily, in the present case, there is no reason to fear that Thirza will exhibit any contumacy.
“Fortunately we are alone at dinner, today. Therefore do you come down, a quarter of an hour before the usual hour, and we will get the matter formally settled.”
/> When Fergus went into the drawing room, the count was already there.
“Thirza shows no unwillingness to carry out our commands in this matter,” he said with a smile, as he held out his hand to Fergus and shook it very heartily. “I pointed out to her that you would naturally expect her to accompany you every year to Scotland, and to spend some months among your people there. She did not seem to consider that any insupportable objection.
“In one respect, Fergus, I think that it is well for you that I am comparatively a young man; being now but forty-four, while the countess is six years younger; thus it may be a good many years before you will be called upon to assume the control of my estates, and the position of one of the great landowners of Saxony. One of these estates will, of course, be Thirza’s dowry at once; but that will not tie you so much, and you will be freer to come and go as it pleases you.”
Two or three minutes later the door opened, and the countess entered, leading Thirza by the hand. The girl advanced with downcast eyes, until her father stepped forward and took her left hand, while he held the right of Fergus.
“My daughter,” he said, “your mother and I have chosen for your husband Colonel Fergus Drummond. We consider the match to be in all ways a suitable one. We esteem him highly, and are convinced that he will make you happy; loving you, as he says, tenderly and truly. In this room where you first saw him, I need not recall to you the services he rendered to us; and I exhort you to obey this our order, and to be a true and loving spouse to him.”
The girl looked up now.
“That will I, father and mother, and most willingly; and will always, to my life’s end, be a true and loving wife to him.”
“Take her, Colonel,” the count said, putting her hand into that of Fergus. “You have won your bride fairly and well, and I know that you will be a worthy husband to her.”
“That I swear to be,” Fergus said, as he stooped and kissed her. “I feel how great is the boon that you have given me; and shall, to my life’s end, be deeply thankful to you both for the confidence which you have placed in me, in thus intrusting her to my care.