“Never mind the name. You must have servants, like English officers; I will be your boy.”
“With us soldiers are told off for such duties, my dear Edith.”
“Then I will go with you as a soldier. I have already gone as a rajah.”
Heideck knitted his brows impatiently. The young woman, whose keen eyes had noticed it, went on impetuously: “Although it seems you are tired of me, I will not leave you. Distance is love’s worst enemy, and you are the only tie that binds me to life.”
Heideck cast down his eyes, so as not to betray his thoughts. Since he had read the papers, which gave him a clearer idea of the political situation, his mind was fuller than before of warlike visions. He loved Edith, but love did not fill his life so completely as it did hers. The news in the Italian and French papers had put him into a regular fever after his long absence from Europe. The dissolution of the Triple Alliance, and Germany’s new alliance with France and Russia, had caused a complete alteration in the political horizon. He heard the stamping of horses, the clash of arms, the thunder of cannon. The war was full of importance and boundless possibilities.
It was a question of Germany’s existence! Her losses up to the present were estimated at more than three milliards. All the German colonies had been seized by the English, hundreds of German merchant-men were lost, German foreign trade was completely paralysed, German credit was shaken. Unless Germany were finally victorious, the war meant her extinction as a great Power.
He sprang up.
“It must be, dearest Edith; we must soon part!”
She turned pale. With a look of anguish she caught at his hand and held it fast.
“Do not leave me!”
“I must have perfect freedom—at present. After the war I belong entirely to you.”
“No, no, you cannot be so cruel! You must not leave me!”
“We shall meet again! I love you and will be true to you. But now I ask a sacrifice from you. I am a German officer; my life now belongs to my country.”
She slid from her chair to the ground and clasped his knees.
“I cannot leave you; it will bring you no happiness, if you destroy me.”
“Be strong, Edith. I always used to admire your firm, powerful will. Have you all at once lost all sense, all reason?”
“I have lost everything,” she cried, “everything save you. And I will not give you up!”
“Mrs. Irwin!” cried a voice of horror at this moment, “can it be possible?”
Edith got up hurriedly.
Mrs. Kennedy and her daughter had entered unobserved. They had witnessed the singular situation with utter astonishment and heard Edith’s last words.
“Good Heavens, can it be possible?” stammered the worthy lady; then, turning to her daughter, she added, “Go, my child.”
Edith Irwin had quickly recovered her composure. Standing up, her head proudly raised, she faced the indignant lady.
“I beg you to remember, Mrs. Kennedy, that no one should pass judgment without knowing the real state of things.”
“I think what I have seen needs no explanation.”
“If there is anything blameworthy in it, I alone am responsible,” interposed Heideck. “Spare me a few minutes in private, Mrs. Kennedy, and I will convince you that no blame attaches to Mrs. Irwin.”
“I want no one to defend me or intercede for me!” cried Edith passionately. “Why should we any longer conceal our love? This man, Mrs. Kennedy, has saved my life and honour more than once, and it is no humiliation for me to go on my knees before him.”
Perhaps there was something in her face and the tone of her voice that touched the Englishwoman’s heart, in spite of her outraged sense of propriety. The stern expression disappeared from her features, and she said with friendly, almost motherly gentleness—
“Come, my poor child! I have certainly no right to set up for a judge of your actions. But I am certainly old enough for you to trust in me.”
Edith, overcome by this sudden kindness, leaned her head on Mrs. Kennedy’s shoulder. Heideck felt it would be best to leave the two ladies to themselves.
“If you will permit me, ladies, I will leave you for the present.”
With a rapid movement Edith laid her hand upon his arm.
“You give me your word, Captain Heideck, that you will not leave without saying good-bye to me?”
“I give you my word.”
He left the room in a most painful state of mind. It seemed as if, in the fulfilment of his duty, he would have to pass over the body of the being who was dearest to him on earth.
In the evening Mrs. Kennedy’s maid brought him a short note from Edith, asking him to come to her at once. He found her in her dimly-lighted room on the couch; but as he entered she got up and went to meet him with apparent calmness.
“You are right, my friend; I have in the meantime come to my senses again. Nothing else is possible—we must part.”
“I swear to you, Edith—”
“Swear nothing. The future is in God’s hands alone.”
She drew from the ring-finger of her left hand the hoop-ring, set in valuable brilliants, which had given rise to their first serious conversation.
“Take this ring, my friend, and think of me whenever you look at it.” Tears choked her utterance. “Have no anxiety for me and my future. I am going with the Kennedys to England.”
XXV
A SUSPICIOUS FISHING-SMACK
A raw north wind swept over the island of Walcheren and the mouth of the West Schelde, ruffling into tiny waves the water of the broad stream, which in the twilight looked like a shoreless sea. Only those acquainted with the ground knew that the flashing lights of the beacons at Flushing on the right and at Fort Frederik Hendrik on the left marked the limits of the wide mouth of the harbour. Here, in 1809, when Holland was under the rule of Napoleon Bonaparte, a powerful English fleet had entered the Schelde to attack Flushing, and take the fortress. In the centre, between the two lights, which were about three miles apart, the German cruiser Gefion lay tossing at anchor. On the deck stood Heideck, who on his return had been promoted to major and appointed to the intelligence department for the coast district of Holland.
In the afternoon he had seen a vessel entering the Schelde, which the pilot had identified as one of the fishing-smacks plying between the Shetland Islands and the Dutch ports. Heideck had informed the captain of the Gefion of his suspicion that the smack might be intended for another purpose than trading in herrings. The little vessel had put in on the left bank, between the villages of Breskens and Kadzand, and Heideck decided to row across to it.
Six marines and four sailors, under the command of a mate, manned one of the Gefion’s boats, and set out for the left bank in the direction of the suspected vessel. It cost the oarsmen, struggling with the tide and wind which came howling from the sea, nearly half an hour’s hard work before they saw the dark hull of the smack emerging clearly outlined before them. A hoarse voice from on board asked what they wanted.
“His Majesty’s service!” answered Heideck, and, as the boat lay to, he threw off his cloak, so as to spring on deck more easily. Three men, in the dark, woollen smock and tarpaulined hat of coast fishermen, approached him and, in answer to his inquiry for the master, told him, in an unintelligible mixture of Dutch and German, that he had gone ashore.
“His name?”
“Maaning Brandelaar.”
“What is the name of this vessel?”
“Bressay.”
The answers were given with hesitation and sullenly, and the three men showed such evident signs of irritation that Heideck felt they would have gladly thrown him overboard had it not been for the respect inspired by his uniform.