THE CIRCUS-RIDER'S 
 DAUGHTER.
 
 JUSr TUBUSHED. 
 
 THE OUTLAW OF CAM ARGUE 
 
 By A. de Lamothe. Translated by Anna T. Sadlier. 
 
 / 2 mo, cloth, special design on side, $1.2^. 
 
 The story opens with a charming picture of Proven- 
 9al manners toward the end of the last century, showing 
 the simple happy life of the people, their daily pursuits, 
 their loves, their sports, the reverence of the tenant for the 
 feudal lord, and the unaffected piety of peasant and peer. 
 
 The description of the rude, semi-barbarous game of 
 throwing the bull is as exciting in its way as the chariot 
 race of "Ben Hur." 
 
 Suddenly the quiet of the scene is broken, and the 
 Revolution, with its murderous knife and incendiary torch, 
 is ushered in. This part of the book is deeply touching, 
 and callous, indeed, must be the heart which is not moved 
 by the deep and unswerving devotion of old Bernard for 
 his foster-child, or the greed and treachery of the scoun- 
 drel Marius. Our space will not permit an extended sketch 
 of the plot, but we assure our readers that the book will 
 well repay a reading. 
 
 BENZIGER BROTHERS, New York, Cincinnati, Chicago.
 
 F. V. BRACKEL. 
 
 THE 
 
 CIRCUS-RIDER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 Mary A. Mitchell. 
 
 NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, CHICAGO: 
 
 BENZIGER BROTHERS, 
 
 Printers to the Holy Apostolic See. 
 
 MK-
 
 Copyright, 1896, by Benziger Brothers.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON a sofa in one of the most elegant apartments in 
 the " Imperial Hotel" at Geneva a young woman 
 reclined who, although not strictly beautiful, presented 
 a charming picture as she lay there, her head envel- 
 oped in a black lace veil, from which her flaxen locks 
 fell in heavy masses on the scarlet cushion, while her 
 hands gracefully rested in her lap. 
 
 Everything about her seemed so frail that involun- 
 tarily one shrank from such delicacy, which, with per- 
 sons as with things, seems, alas ! to bloom only to die. 
 
 Her extreme quiet was evidently compulsory from 
 weakness, for at the slightest noise her quick gaze wan- 
 dered impatiently to a small travelling clock which stood 
 on the table near the sofa. As the hands of the time- 
 piece gradually advanced she could no longer repress 
 her restlessness, and, half rising, she called to an old 
 woman whose stout figure was often visible passing the 
 door. "Annie," and, notwitlistanding the effort she 
 made, the voice was hardly audible — " Annie, is Miss 
 Nora not yet returned ?" 
 
 " The little miss is still with the master," replied the
 
 6 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 woman in a broken accent, which, together with her 
 bronzed complexion and marked countenance, betrayed 
 her foreign origin. " Little miss is safe with the mas- 
 ter ; missus need not be uneasy. She come when it be 
 time ; master never come home before seven." 
 
 " He must have taken her there again," whispered 
 the young woman to herself. " Oh, he knows not 
 what he does. I must speak to him. My poor child ! 
 My poor child !" 
 
 Either the talking or the agitation brought on a vio- 
 lent, dry cough, which so overcame her that her head 
 fell back wearily. 
 
 " Why will missus distress herself for nothing ?" said 
 the old servant querulously. " Missus make herself 
 sick, and master will then be angry ; when missus was 
 young she was mild and patient, but now she be like 
 the fire-flame." 
 
 " Then I had no one to care for, old Annie. Mamma 
 and you took care of me ; and then, too, I was in good 
 health," she added with a sigh. 
 
 " You could be in good health now, too, if you 
 would," muttered the old woman; "but this unquiet 
 life wears you out." 
 
 No, no, it is not the life — I am so tenderly cared 
 for. It lies here," and she pressed her hand to her 
 heart. " Something is wrong here. But listen — here 
 they are, Annie." 
 
 Quick, light steps were heard, and in the next moment 
 the door was thrown open and a little girl bounded into 
 the room and threw herself impetuously on the invalid.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 7 
 
 " Mamma, mamma," she cried, " I can do it beauti- 
 fully. I can ride standing like Fraulein Elisa, and 
 spring through the hoop." 
 
 " How heated you are, my darlingj!" said the mother, 
 as she stroked the girl's black hair back from her fore- 
 head. " Oh, Alfred, you took her again !" she said re- 
 proachfully to a tall, large man who followed the child. 
 How do you feel, my love ?" said he, bending over 
 her to press a kiss upon her forehead, regardless of the 
 reproachful tone. 
 
 " Oh, Alfred !" she repeated, and looked at him with 
 tearful ej^es. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders and walked impatiently to 
 a window, but the little one drew down her mother's 
 face and continued to repeat, ' ' Oh, mamma, listen to me ; 
 I rode standing, and jumped through the hoop much 
 better than the little Wimbledon, who very nearly fell." 
 
 " You must change your dress, Nora," interrupted 
 the father. " Go with Annie and let her assist you." 
 
 " Presently, papa. But listen to me, mamma ; just 
 as we came into the ring papa put me on the new pony. ' ' 
 
 " Helena, how can you be so foolish as to keep the 
 child ?" said the man, returning. " Nora, I tell you 
 once more go dress for dinner." 
 
 " Go, darling ; you can tell me later,' ' said the mother. 
 
 The little one, frightened by the unaccustomed sever- 
 ity of her father's tone, left the room. 
 
 The invalid lay quietly back and the man remained 
 silently standing by the window. 
 
 " Alfred," said the woman weakly after a pause, and
 
 8 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 she Stretched toward him her hand, which he took and 
 raised to his lips, saying, " Shall we be friends ?" and 
 his dark eyes shone with a mischievous good humor. 
 
 " Oh, come to me ; it is so long since I have had a 
 chance to be alone with you," she replied tenderly, as 
 she clung to him. 
 
 He drew a chair close to her couch, and sitting upon 
 it, placed his arm around her so that her head could 
 rest upon his shoulder. " Now for a sermon," said he 
 half jestingly. " Now I cannot escape ; and I see in 
 your eye the question. Why do you take Nora with you ?" 
 
 " You have read aright. Yes ; why have you done it 
 when I besought you not to ?" 
 
 " Why ? You women are dreadful with your lahys. 
 Now, simply because I could not help it. The child has 
 remarkable talent — as graceful as a young fairy, as 
 brave as a man. Why should I not have the gratifica- 
 tion of bringing my child up to my own profession ? 
 She will be a circus-rider of the first rank," said he en- 
 thusiastically. 
 
 " My daughter a circus-rider !" murmured Helena in 
 agony. 
 
 " Helena, you married a circus-rider." 
 
 " Oh, that is different. A man may elevate his 
 business. Adverse circumstances forced your choice, 
 and you, my husband, have converted a light amuse- 
 ment into an art." Her eyes turned to him proudly. 
 
 " Adverse circumstances drove me. Yes, but who 
 knows if any other calling would have been so success- 
 ful for me as this free, independent one has been .''"
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 9 
 
 " Formerly you thought differently," she suggested 
 timidly. 
 
 " Formerly !" he repeated. " Do you mean when I 
 wooed you, when the future was uncertain, when the 
 wounds of the past were reopened and showed at its 
 brightest what I had lost ? Then was my calling hate- 
 ful to me," said he, covering his eyes with his hand, as 
 if to shut out a terrible picture. " But," he continued, 
 " that is now forgotten." 
 
 She looked up at him hesitatingly, and said : " Alfred, 
 what drove you to adopt this extraordinary calling ?" 
 
 " Extraordinary calling f" he repeated with bitterness. 
 " You put it as gently as possible. Well, principally, 
 perhaps, my nature. You must have inherited very 
 little of Eve's inquisitiveness, little wife ; you have in- 
 quired so seldom into my past. Were you afraid ?" 
 
 " No ; love cannot exist with mistrust. The past 
 was yours ; the present and the future mine, and they 
 are sufficient." There was something touchingly con- 
 fiding in her tone 
 
 " My sweet wife," said he, as he kissed her forehead 
 and drew her more closely to him. " Helena, it were 
 better that I remained silent ; but though my life has 
 had many dark hours, it has no stain, no disappointed 
 hopes, as is often the case in a struggling life. You 
 know that the name I bear is not rightfully my own. 
 My father was descended from an old and noble French 
 family. Restless blood coursed in his veins ; he was 
 one of the few among the aristocracy who joined in the 
 revolution, and in consequence he was obliged to quit
 
 lO THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 his native land, and resided a long time in Germany, 
 where he married. In one of the last battles he died, 
 and left my mother penniless with three children. My 
 remembrance of my parents' home is not happy. The 
 contrasts were too strong, the dispositions too different, 
 and circumstances contributed to increase the unfavor- 
 able impression made on me. My mother's relatives, 
 who were in high military and State positions, seeing 
 that I had a taste for the army, used their influence to 
 obtain my admission into a military school. Toward 
 my mother I had become most impetuous. What she 
 had overlooked in the father shocked her in the son. 
 Her passive nature could not understand me. It seems 
 a strange contradiction that the French characteristics 
 in an individual have a fascination for the Germans, 
 who hate the French nation. My name, my foreign 
 appearance, and my lively nature won me friends in 
 school, and I shone brilliantly among my more apathetic 
 companions ; while my quick talent, my agility, and 
 my easily excited ambition made me the darling of my 
 teachers. Unfortunately they called my wild pranks 
 humor, which made my vanity grow apace, and I prided 
 myself on my French extraction too much. 
 
 " Had the time been one of activity I might have 
 achieved something, but it was a peaceful year, and the 
 formal duties of a small garrison, together with the pit- 
 tance of a lieutenant without private means, little tallied 
 with my visions of military glory. Now I appreciate 
 the use of formal discipline, but then it was but idle 
 play to me, and I fretted under the restraint.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. II 
 
 " However, I had no choice ; my path in life seemed 
 to lead to this career. My immediate superior may 
 have been more punctilious than was necessary, and, 
 old follower of the war of independence as he was, he 
 hated what he considered my French vanity. He lost 
 no opportunity to make me feel his importance. This 
 state of things developed in me faults of my double 
 nationality." 
 
 " But you have also the virtues of both nations ; you 
 have the German spirit," interrupted Helena lovingly. 
 
 "At all events, German obstinacy," he continued. 
 " A severe reprimand, which I considered unjust, 
 brought about the long-expected break. I thought 
 myself insulted, and I demanded an explanation from 
 my superior, which he declined to give on military 
 grounds, and my violence knew no bounds and brought 
 on me a severe punishment. Nothing remained for me 
 but to take the first opportunity to insult him in private 
 life, so as to force him to ask satisfaction of me. We 
 fought, and my ball was so well aimed that he died that 
 night from the wound I gave him. The laws against 
 duelling were so severe that it was impossible for me to 
 remain in the country, much less in the army. My 
 friends assisted me to escape, and I wandered to the 
 New World. 
 
 " At first a feeling of recovered freedom took posses- 
 sion of me. I was young and gay, and a new land was 
 open to me, but the stern reality soon made itself felt, 
 and I saw myself with nothing but my own exertions to 
 depend upon. My education and tastes prompted me
 
 I 
 
 12 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 to seek a respectable situation, but I could find nothing 
 for which I was fitted. For some positions I was too 
 II highly educated, while for others I was not practical 
 enough. This is the stuff that makes the adventurer. 
 While I found it hard to wring a living out of the low- 
 est avocations, accident made me acquainted with a set 
 of hunters who lived by the chase and training wild 
 horses. This suited my restless nature, and I joined 
 my lot to that of these rough fellows. My superiority 
 in shooting and riding soon impressed them, and in the 
 management of wild horses I showed from the begin- 
 ning my mastery over animals. I learned from my com- 
 panions, who had carried on the business a long time ; 
 more from the Indians, with whom we often traded in 
 our excursions on the prairies. Many an equestrian 
 feat by which I now gain the applause of tlie public was 
 taught me by the red man. 
 
 " In this manner I spent many years, and in the 
 wilderness difference of position is soon lost sight of. 
 One year, however, hunting had become dangerous on 
 account of the war between unfriendly tribes, so it 
 b occurred to one of our company (who was a real Yankee 
 ( in resources) to exhibit our trained horses, an idea born 
 of accident and discouragement and lack of employ- 
 ment. Nothing better offered, so we gladly adopted 
 the suggestion ; and as the first experiment in a small 
 town succeeded so much better than we could have 
 anticipated, we determined to follow it up. Our ex- 
 hibitions, though of the most primitive nature, were 
 entirely new. My recollections of similar amusements
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 13 
 
 in the old country were of great use to us, and the 
 training and beauty of the horses, as well as the reck- 
 less daring of the men, pleased the people, who mar- 
 velled at our ingenuity. 
 
 " We travelled from State to State, earning money 
 and renown. You know that when the American's curi-i 
 osity is awakened he will spare no trouble to gratif}^ it.' 
 As long as we remained in small places I found nothing 
 very unpleasant in my position. The experience of the 
 last few years had hardened me ; but when I came face 
 to face with those to whose ciicles I had once belonged 
 a feeling awoke in me which I could not overcome. 
 Particularly bitter seemed my fate the first evening 
 your sweet face in the audience made me realize how 
 far my avocation had removed me from the charms of 
 woman's society. That hour showed me all that I had 
 lost in the treasures which I once possessed in name 
 and standing, and which circumstances had now closed 
 to me. We only learn to value a thing when it is lost 
 to us forever. I was inexpressibly unhappy. 
 
 " It was the custom there as it is here for the young 
 people of fashion to visit the circus in the forenoon, and 
 it was in this way that I made the acquaintance of your 
 brother, whose resemblance to you attracted me to him. 
 The purchase of a horse brought us together. He rec- 
 ognized the man of education in me, and was very 
 friendly, while to me it was an indescribable happiness 
 to meet one of my own rank in early life. 
 
 " Change of circumstances is too common a thing in 
 America not to meet with indulgence, so when your
 
 14 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 brother learned my history he became a true friend. 
 Through my now large income I was able to sustain 
 myself in the social circle into which he introduced me. 
 There I met you, Helena, and, thanks to American in- 
 dependence, I was able to approach you. What fol- 
 lowed you know, sweetheart. You returned my love 
 bravely. Your faith in him raised the disheartened 
 man in his own estimation. Your parents saw in me 
 only the adventurer, the man of questionable calling. 
 In order to prove myself worthy of your confidence I 
 resolved to bring my business to the highest perfection 
 in its way. My companions had long admitted that I 
 was the mainspring of the enterprise, that it was my 
 mind which directed it, so it was an easy matter to 
 manage them and to carry out my plans. As manager 
 of the circus I felt secure of the future, and knew what 
 I could do, and, Helena, I have done it. Have we not 
 been happy?" A look of the deepest tenderness ac- 
 companied the question. 
 
 "Almost too happy," she replied, clinging to him 
 closely. 
 
 " No, no, not too happy. I set sail at full tide, and 
 am not disappointed with the anchorage. My restless 
 blood and northern heart have both been satisfied, and 
 out of a wandering life I have wrung a peaceful happi- 
 ness. Now, little wife, do not borrow trouble. Will 
 you not trust me to guide the bark which I launched V 
 He spoke with the self-possession of a man who owed 
 everything to his own exertions. 
 
 " Nora !" said the wife after a pause, and turning
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 15 
 
 her eyes away from him. A cloud swept across his face 
 as he said hastily : 
 
 " You women are dreadfully obstinate, always re- 
 turning to the same thing. What about the child ?" 
 
 " Alfred, you foster this taste in her too much." 
 
 In spite of himself he laughed as he said : " Wait ten 
 years or so until the predilection becomes dangerous ; 
 in the mean time let her love the noble animals that 
 have brought fortune and renown to her father. I have 
 already told you that she inherits the taste. I cannot 
 be persuaded otherwise. Let me train her. In my 
 hands she will earn more applause than with any other 
 instructor. Although it is, as you say, a strange calling, 
 you see it is not devoid of happiness." 
 
 " Alfred, you cannot mean it !" she shrieked, and 
 suddenly raised herself up. " You cannot doom my 
 daughter, your child, to such a fate ! Was it for this 
 that you told me the story of your life ? Life is not 
 the same thing for man and for woman. I have already 
 tried to make you understand this ; the latter is bound 
 to the place she first selects, and think what a fate this — 
 to be gazed at by an unsympathetic public, to-day 
 its plaything, to-morrow its jibe ! I am sick and weak, 
 but I will save my child." 
 
 Such a look of daring resolution lit up her soft blue 
 eyes that Karsten shrank back involuntarily and cried 
 out, " Helena, you are raving. From what will you 
 save the child ? Of what danger are you dreaming ? 
 She is under your protection. Teach her to be as good 
 and sweet as you are, and let us await the future."
 
 l6 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Under my protection, you say ?" There was some- 
 thing unearthly in the tone of her voice as she wrung 
 her thin, white liands. " Teach her to be good and 
 sweet ? Oh, no ; not so, not so. If you choose this 
 career for her, take her away. Let her mix with those 
 who are to live that life, so that her feelings may be 
 blunted and she may never know what a woman should 
 know, nor have higher aspirations than to win a pa- 
 per wreath and the shouted applause of the gaping 
 crowd !" 
 
 " You are bitter," he moaned, springing to his feet. 
 " What has come over you, my gentle wife ?" 
 
 "A mother's fear, the terror of a mother about to 
 lose her child. Alfred, Alfred !" she cried in a weak, 
 supplicating tone, " come here. Listen to what I have 
 thought in those long, sleepless nights when Nora's 
 future passed before me. Oh, my husband, listen !" 
 
 He went to her side, and kneeling before her, with 
 his hand on her cold, moist brow, said : " You agitate 
 yourself, love. Be quiet now, and let us speak of this 
 another time." 
 
 " No, not another time — to-day. It would grow only 
 all the harder." The sick woman threw her arm around 
 her husband's neck and continued, while her eye beamed 
 with all the magic of the maiden's glance pleading with 
 her lover. " Listen to me, Alfred. I had so sweet a 
 dream. You are now rich. You have gained wealth 
 and renown in your calling. Man must not stretch 
 Fortune's cord too tightly. Let it go. Do not venture 
 farther. Return to my home. If it pleases you pur-
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 17 
 
 chase it, and secure for yourself and your child a happy 
 future among congenial surroundings." 
 
 He looked at her puzzled and astonished, for he never 
 anticipated such a proposition ; then he said sorrow- 
 fully, " You consider your child's happiness more than 
 your husband's." 
 
 " Oh, no ; your happiness, too." She ran her soft 
 hand through his thick, dark hair. " Your happiness, 
 too. A hundred chances may rob you of all you have. 
 And I believe, too, that I am homesick. Perhaps I 
 might get well," she added, but her lowered gaze con- 
 tradicted what her lips expressed. She remained silent 
 like one awaiting sentence. 
 
 Slowly Karsten released himself from her arms and 
 paced the room, buried in deep thought ; then, standing 
 before her, he said : 
 
 " You have only considered the child, not yourself, 
 for you have never wished to go back, Helena. I cannot, 
 I cannot. What was once hard has become the pleasure, 
 the pride of my life. I cannot become a cultivator of 
 the soil, much less rust in leisure. But be satisfied," 
 he continued, as he saw a deathly pallor spread over 
 her countenance. " Sacrifice for sacrifice ! Take your 
 child ; leave me my avocation. This is a sacrifice for 
 me. Bring her up in woman's ways if the mad-cap will 
 allow it. Possibly I could not protect the daughter as 
 I did the mother. I promise you never to bring her in 
 contact with my business. I promise you never to in- 
 terfere with her education and always to support your 
 opinions sacredly. Are you satisfied, little wife ?"
 
 l8 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 He bent affectionately over her as she lay exhausted 
 on the cushions. She remained silent, her lids tightly 
 closed and her hands pressed convulsively together. 
 He repeated, " Are you contented ? When Nora is 
 grown, the money which her father's strange calling has 
 amassed will enable her to live in luxury. You see I 
 have looked even to the very end, and now let me gaze 
 into your blue eyes that have won so much." 
 
 Perhaps she thought she had not won so much. How 
 much more had she hoped for ? Her husband's voice 
 had always possessed a singular charm for her, and ex- 
 ercised a powerful influence over her since the first time 
 she had heard it. To-day it lost none of its strength. 
 He kissed those beautiful eyes, in which he read only 
 tranquillity. He whispered all those loving assurances 
 so dear to a wife's heart. She was not satisfied with 
 his plan, in which she saw much that was vain and im- 
 practicable, but she had gained something for her child. 
 
 As often occurs to feeble persons, her violent agita- 
 tion was followed suddenly by extreme exhaustion. 
 Karsten observed this, and lifting her tenderly from 
 the cushions, laid her on her bed and prepared to go 
 out, for he had much to do. 
 
 " I shall take Nora to dinner with me," he said, " that 
 you may rest ; in the afternoon you can have her all to 
 yourself." 
 
 She seemed not to hear him ; so telling the maid to be 
 careful of her mistress, and calling his little girl, he left 
 the apartment very quietly. 
 
 Helena was alone. The dreamy quiet in which she
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. I9 
 
 lay could not be called sleep, for she was quite con- 
 scious, and as soon as the spell of Alfred's voice and 
 presence was removed all her fears came back with 
 redoubled force. 
 
 " Mother, mother," she cried aloud, " take back 
 that word that I would repent of what I was doing ! I 
 have been so happy. It is only the child." Hastily, 
 as if seeking peace, she pressed a little cross to her lips. 
 
 Helena was the daughter of Irish parents, who when 
 she was but a child emigrated to America, taking with 
 them considerable means. Something in the light- 
 hearted passion of her nation had attracted the pious, 
 strictly brought-up girl to the handsome adventurer. 
 After a struggle her parents gave their permission to 
 the marriage, on condition that she should be always 
 kept from contact with the members of the circus com- 
 pany. 
 
 Karsten was faithful to these conditions, and the 
 lovely bride possessed in an eminent degree all the 
 charms peculiar to the daughters of Erin, and was the 
 precious jewel of her husband's fiery heart. He loved 
 Helena with a devotion unusual in one of so restless a 
 disposition. His wife was to him like an echo from his 
 early life, and filled the void which he felt in his pres- 
 ent position. Shortly after their marriage they went to 
 Europe, where he had wonderful success, and soon 
 held acknowledged precedence in his profession. His 
 distinguished appearance and his early education secured 
 him a certain toleration among the better classes in the 
 principal cities, where his coming was hailed with gen-
 
 20 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 eral enthusiasm. He surrounded his wife with all the 
 comfort and luxury which his continually increasing 
 income could well afford, and she never missed society, 
 for she lived in her love for her husband and child, and 
 had sufficient variety in their wandering life. 
 
 The first shadow that fell across their path of happi- 
 ness was Helena's delicacy, which followed the birth of 
 their second child, who died in infancy. Alfred seemed 
 unconscious of the progress of her malady, or perhaps 
 he tried to deceive himself, fearing to think of the re- 
 sult. She, however, was not so hopeful, and this natu- 
 rally increased her solicitude for tlie future of her child. 
 
 She was not satisfied with the last conversation with 
 her husband, for both offered to make a sacrifice which 
 each felt would be vain.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AFTER leaving his wife Karsten entered the dining- 
 room holding his little girl by the hand. It was 
 in the height of the travelling season, and the large 
 room was filled with guests of all ranks, but every eye 
 was turned on the commanding-looking man and the 
 beautiful child at his side. 
 
 Nora, now seven years old, was a remarkable-looking 
 child. The easy, independent pose, the regular features, 
 arched brows and dark hair, which she inherited from 
 her father, with the fair complexion and blue eyes of 
 her mother, made a striking combination. Her dress 
 was white, and its English style left the neck and arms 
 entirely free. Her dark hair fell in long curls down her 
 back. She moved down the crowded room with quiet 
 composure, and as her father placed her near him in a 
 seat which some gentlemen of his acquaintance had re- 
 served for him, she received the little jests and compli- 
 ments which are generally bestowed on an attractive 
 child with the condescension of a princess and the in- 
 difference of long habit. 
 
 The conversation soon wandered to the immediate 
 affairs of the director, whose experience and extensive 
 travels gave them peculiar interest ; but notwithstand- 
 ing Nora's love for her father's wonderful animals, the 
 particulars discussed soon went beyond her childish
 
 22 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 understanding, and her gaze wandered through the 
 room. Suddenly her eyes brightened ; newly arrived 
 guests were entering, and the presence of some children 
 about her own age among them awakened her interest. 
 1/ Youth is always attracted by youth. 
 
 To Nora's delight the strangers were placed near her. 
 A distinguished-looking woman led by the hand a little 
 girl some years younger than Nora, and clad in deep 
 mourning. Two boys followed with a tutor, whose 
 black dress bespoke his clerical character. The lady 
 and the little girl sat at one side of the table, and the 
 tutor and the boys took seats which made the older of 
 the latter Nora's immediate neighbor. Boy-like, he 
 did not notice her, and seemed exclusively occupied 
 with his meal. The lady, however, looked at the little 
 one, whose earnest eyes betrayed how much she would 
 like to wile away time by chatting. 
 
 Nora could no longer control her impatience, and 
 with the freemasonry that brings the untutored together, 
 she addressed her neighbor with the child's question, 
 " What is your name ?" The boy looked astonished, 
 but his thirteen-years'-old dignity was soon under the 
 spell of the pretty speaker, and they entered into con- 
 versation. The lady and the clergyman too joined, in- 
 terested by the winning ways of the little giil, who told 
 them of her sick mamma and of her travels. She was 
 quite at home in many of the European languages. 
 After a while her father made her a sign to follow 
 him. Being so interested in the conversation of his 
 friends, he had not noticed the entrance of the strangers.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 23 
 
 Nora left her new friends with lier own winsome 
 grace, and they were so much struck with Alfred's ap- 
 pearance, that the lady inquired of the waiter, who had 
 bowed to the director with that deference always begot- 
 ten either by position or feeing, " Who was that gentle- 
 man with the beautiful child ?" 
 
 "That is Karsten, the renowned circus director," 
 whispered the man subserviently, and following the 
 questioning look of the lady. 
 
 " The circus director !" repeated the lady incredu- 
 lously, and with a look of disappointment. 
 
 " Certainly, your ladyship. His is the world-re- 
 nowned circus, and the child is his little daughter. 
 They have been here for some time, and his wife is 
 very sick. In a few days the circus will open," con- 
 tinued the waiter. 
 
 " Oh, Karsten, Karsten, mamma !" exclaimed both 
 the boys. " We must see him, he has such beautiful 
 horses. Mamma, you surely will let us go ?" 
 
 All was still in Helena's room. She had eaten noth- 
 ing for several hours, and remained perfectly motion- 
 less on her couch. The excitement of the morning 
 seemed to have exhausted her. No word passed her lips, 
 but the short, dry cough returned from time to time. 
 
 The maid, hoping that her mistress slept, prevented 
 the child going into the room, so the little thing fol- 
 lowed her advice and went into the hall to play, hoping 
 to meet her new acquaintances ; and she was not dis- 
 appointed. Looking dreamily over the balustrade down 
 into the lower hall, where a crowd of people were talk-
 
 24 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ing, she saw the clergyman with his young charges com- 
 ing up the stairs. 
 
 "All alone and so quiet?" said the priest to her 
 kindly. 
 
 , " Papa is gone out, and mamma is asleep, and Annie 
 :is cross," was the reply. 
 
 " Three unfortunate things for you ; and so you are 
 lonely," continued the chaplain with a smile. 
 
 " 1 thought you might come, for I heard your little 
 girl crying in there," said Nora, as she pointed to a 
 door. 
 
 " Yes, Lily is there with mamma," answered the elder 
 boy, bending his long legs so as to touch her shoulder 
 with his hand. " Come in with us." 
 
 " I must not go with strangers, mamma has always 
 forbidden it, but I can play here," she said longingly. 
 
 " Well, we will play with you. You have no objec- 
 tion, have you ?" said the boy, addressing the priest. 
 
 The clergyman nodded consent ; the child interested 
 him deeply. 
 
 " What can you play ? Can you jump the rope ?" 
 said the boy, noticing the skipping-rope, which she had 
 brought from her room, thinking the hall a good place 
 to use it. 
 
 " Can I ?" she said disdainfully. " Much better than 
 you think, if you will only turn it." 
 
 The boy complied with the suggestion. The little girl 
 threw back her dark hair, raised her arms, lifted herself 
 on her toes, and danced and turned under and over the 
 quickly moving rope with the grace of a fairy.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 25 
 
 The loud applause of the boys suddenly stopped her, 
 and she said, " I learned that from Frjiulein Emily, 
 but I should not have done it ; mamma cannot bear 
 that I should do so before strangers." She sat down 
 embarrassed and grieved. 
 
 Why cannot your mamma bear it ?" said the chap- 
 Iain v^ith increasing interest. 
 
 " Mamma says it is not nice to let one's self be seen 
 so ; she is not pleased when I ride either." 
 
 " Does your mamma ride ?" he pursued. 
 
 " My mamma ride !" cried the child, with an inde- 
 scribably haughty air, and throwing her little head high 
 in the air. " My papa's people do that for money." 
 
 " But can you ride well ?" asked the boys in surprise. 
 
 " Of course I ride, and drive, too," she answered 
 with a shrug of the shoulders. " I have four ponies 
 which are mine alone. You can see them when you go 
 to the circus. The little Wimbledon goes to the post 
 with them. I lent them to her for this purpose, but I 
 can drive them better myself." 
 
 The boys opened their eyes wide with astonishment as 
 they said, " Can you really, really drive ?" 
 
 " Yes, six-in-hand," she replied firml}'. "This spring 
 I drove my ponies entirely alone in the presence of the 
 Emperor in St. Petersburg. He would not believe papa 
 that I could, so, after much coaxing, mamma allowed 
 me to show him. I am not quite sure what the Em- 
 peror said." She sat down quietly, but with an air 
 which showed plainly that she would like to be ques- 
 tioned.
 
 26 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Oh, what did he say ?" inquired the listeners. 
 First he took me in his arms and kissed me and 
 gave me this," showing a heart set with diamonds 
 which she wore suspended from her neck ; " but you 
 must not laugh," she added, as she turned to Curt, the 
 eldest boy, whose mouth showed a suspicious expres- 
 sion. 
 
 "What else did the Emperor say?" persisted the 
 latter. 
 
 " He said — he said, ' Karsten, she will yet throw 
 others in the shade and make the world talk.' Now 
 you may laugh," she added, as she sat down with such 
 a vexed expression that the priest could not suppress a 
 smile. 
 
 Curt, however, turned a deep red at her words and 
 said decidedly, " I am not laughing. Your mamma is 
 quite right ; it is not pretty for a young lady to exhibit 
 herself so. I would be very sorry to hear you spoken 
 of as a circus-rider, and it would be a great misfortune 
 for you." 
 
 The boy spoke hastily, but the girl looked at him con- 
 fusedly, a look of mortification overspreading her face. 
 He quickly perceived it, and was pained. Kneeling 
 before her, he stroked her hair back from her forehead 
 and said affectionately, " Now do not be angry with 
 me ; you will not be a circus-rider, will you ? But have 
 you learned nothing else but to ride and drive ?" 
 
 " Oh, ever so much more," quickly replied the girl. 
 " Every day I have lessons with mamma, besides other 
 teachers. I can read and write in three languages, and
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 27 
 
 I also know my catechism." She said this latter with 
 a look at the chaplain, as if she knew that he would 
 approve particularly of this last accomplishment. 
 
 " Who instructed you in that ?" asked the priest, an- 
 swering her look. 
 
 " Mamma, every day, and I have also been to con- 
 fession. You are a priest ; I knew that at once." 
 
 " Indeed ; how did you discover that ?" 
 
 " Oh, I know many priests. Whenever we arrive in 
 a city where we are to remain long mamma always takes 
 me to see them to be examined. My mamma is very 
 pious ; she goes to church every day, but now she is 
 sick." In this manner she chatted on. 
 
 "That is very good of your mamma," repb'ed the 
 chaplain, deeply impressed with this sketch of the 
 mother's care for her child's soul in the midst of such a 
 wandering life. " I hope you also will be very pious." 
 
 " Are you good ?" said the child to the astonished 
 Curt. 
 
 " That is for your sermon. Curt," said the priest 
 kindly ; " but come, my boy, your mother will be wait- 
 ing for you." 
 
 " No, no ; stay a little while longer !" cried Nora, as 
 she held Curt fast by the hand. " Let your brother 
 go." She looked at him imploringly, which was not 
 disagreeable to the boy ; who looked on her as a new 
 and wonderful plaything. 
 
 " What a queer little thing you are !" he said ; " but 
 there is mamma," he added, rising as his^mother came 
 out of a room on the corridor.
 
 28 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " What are you all doing ?" said the lady, as she ad- 
 vanced to the group. 
 
 The chaplain was about to give an explanation, when 
 another door was opened by a wild, strange-looking 
 woman. She approached the countess, who drew back 
 as if from a maniac. 
 
 " Oh, help, help !" cried the woman in broken speech 
 and wringing her hands. " Missus die ! Missus die ! 
 and no one there to help her." 
 
 " What is she saying ?" asked the countess ; but Nora 
 threw herself in the old woman's arms crying, " This 
 is my Annie. Annie, what is the matter ?" 
 
 " Oh, Miss Nora, mamma is sick and massa away !" 
 
 " Mamma is sick," repeated the child, as she burst 
 into tears. " Oh, mamma, mamma !" 
 
 " There seems help needed, your reverence," said the 
 countess. " Will you try to find out from the woman 
 who the lady's husband is, and where he is staying, 
 that I may know what to do ?" and without any more 
 hesitation she went to the sick-room, led by the cries 
 of the child. 
 
 Helena was still lying on the couch, but her head had 
 fallen back ; her lovely features seemed convulsed, and 
 a stream of blood flowing from her lips showed but too 
 plainly what had occurred. Across the mother lay the 
 little girl, calling her loving names, which, alas ! fell 
 unheeded on unconscious ears. Curt, who had fol- 
 lowed, was trying to console the child. The countess, 
 quickly taking in the situation, whispered to her son, 
 " Try to get the child away that she may not agitate
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 29 
 
 the mother, and then call a physician." She then ap- 
 proached the sick woman, placed her head gently in a bet- 
 ter position, bathed her temples, and moistened her lips. 
 
 " Mother," whispered the invalid, as she opened her 
 eyes wide ; but they wore a questioning expression as 
 they fell on the unknown face. 
 
 " Be perfectly quiet," said the countess gently ; " I 
 am a friend whom an accident brought into your sick- 
 room. Allow me to care for you until your husband 
 comes. I have already sent for him." 
 
 A look of gratitude rewarded her, and then the weary 
 eyes again closed. Helena breathed with difficulty, and 
 a hollow rattle was heard in the throat. The countess 
 looked attentively at her ; she saw the dark shadows 
 creep around the eyes and the drawn look settle on the 
 mouth ; she also noticed a prayer-book lying near the 
 travelling clock, and in the folds of the bed-clothes a 
 rosary, which seemed to have fallen from the sick wom- 
 an's hand. Low and distinctly the countess said, " Is 
 there any one you would like to see before your hus- 
 band comes ?" 
 
 Again the eyes opened languidly and slowly, the lips 
 moved rapidly, but no sound could be heard ; the hand 
 made a sign on the forehead and breast, which the 
 countess understood, and by way of answer she made 
 the sign of the cross, saying, " My private chaplain is 
 here ; do you wish that he should go for the priest of 
 the parish ?" 
 
 Helena clasped her hands and stammered, " Oh, 
 quick, quick ! I have much to say."
 
 30 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 The chaplain came into the room. He was very 
 young. Shortly after his ordination he had become 
 tutor in the household of the countess, and this was the 
 first time that he had been called on to perform the 
 duties of his sacred office at the sick-bed. Helena gave 
 him a penetrating look, and seeing the purity of youth 
 and the holiness of his calling in his face, felt that she 
 could trust him with her last request to her husband. 
 
 Through a remarkable dispensation of Providence the 
 chatter of a child had enabled him to understand a state 
 of things which would otherwise have required a long 
 explanation to make intelligible. His advice was in 
 accordance with her wishes, and afforded her the peace 
 and rest to which she had long been a stranger, as she 
 confided to him her desires with regard to her child. 
 
 Her peace with God was soon made. A simple, child- 
 like spirit, which had remained uncorrupted by the 
 world, had long prepared her for this hour. Had she 
 had a presentiment of the nearness of the end, or had 
 the agitation of the morning hastened it ? 
 
 At this moment her husband, who but just heard of 
 the state of his wife, entered, and his grief was uncon- 
 trollable. Helena's pale face flushed a little, a loving 
 glance brightened her eyes, but the peace so lately 
 gained was disturbed. It is hard to die when loving 
 arms are holding us tightly and earthly happiness asserts 
 its sway. In the depth of his agony Alfred was entirely 
 unconscious of strangers. Helena knew that she had 
 not long to remain, and asked for her child. Alfred 
 seemed not to hear, but the countess, herself a mother,
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 3I 
 
 understood, and motioned Curt, who brought in the 
 frightened little one, still clinging to him. He placed 
 her on the couch close to her mother. 
 
 Was it a wild feeling of jealousy at seeing a stranger 
 bring her babe, or was it in order to attract Alfred's 
 attention to the child which made Helena push the boy 
 away with nervous haste and place her husband's hand 
 on Nora ? There was something in the action which 
 wounded the boy's sensibility, and he stepped back 
 flushed to the forehead. With the quickness of vision, 
 often peculiar to the dying, Helena noticed all this, and 
 stretching out her hand to the boy, she beckoned him 
 to come nearer and nearer, until he stood close beside 
 her. His was a beautiful face, and from his large brown 
 eyes tears rolled down for the sorrows of these strangers. 
 Helena looked earnestly at him, then raising her feeble 
 hand and placing it on his head, as if with a blessing, 
 her lips moved and seemed to form the -words thank you, 
 but a violent fit of coughing interrupted her, and the 
 towel which they held to her lips was dyed with a scar- 
 let stream. At length the doctor came and applied 
 himself to do all in his power, although his practised 
 eye saw how vain science now was. He recommended 
 them to take the child away ; the kind chaplain took 
 the husband under his care, but the countess remained 
 constant in her task of loving charity, and through the 
 long night the still young life struggled with the de- 
 stroyer, until the morning dawned on the departing 
 spirit. 
 
 Around Helena's couch knelt this strangely collected
 
 32 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 party, representing such different phases of society. 
 The priest, who had given the departed the last conso- 
 lations of religion, and who was now caring so lovingly 
 for the bereaved husband ; the boy, holding the orphan, 
 who had cried herself to sleep in his arms ; the countess, 
 supporting with sisterly solicitude the head of the 
 stranger, the wife of the circus director, whose position 
 she felt inclined to question only a few hours ago. 
 
 A week had elapsed since the death ; for three days 
 had Helena's body rested in the earth. The grief of 
 the husband had become more subdued, and every-day 
 life was again asserting its rights. It is a mercy that 
 stern reality forces itself upon us unbidden and takes 
 us out of our sorrows. 
 
 In every great grief, as in every great event, there 
 exists a certain levelling power which quietly sets aside 
 the social laws. The countess, in her own practical, 
 helpful way, had taken this family, so strangely and 
 intimately brought to her notice, under her immediate 
 protection, and she kept little Nora close beside her, in 
 order that the child might feel her loss as little as pos- 
 sible. At length, however, it became imperative that 
 things should resume their natural course. Karsten 
 wished to leave a spot where he had known so much 
 sorrow. He came for his little girl and to take leave of 
 the countess. For the first time that distinguished lady 
 found herself called upon to face the difference that ex- 
 ists between the various stations in life, and it was a 
 strange experience for her to meet as an equal the 
 man who moved in a sphere unknown to her. She
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. ^$ 
 
 belonged to that aristocratic circle which seeks or sym- 
 pathizes only with its equals, and yet we have seen that 
 she did not shrink from intercourse when duty to her 
 neighbor required it. Hers was a nature that knows 
 neither weakness nor enthusiasm, but is governed by 
 an unyielding sense of duty, a character capable of 
 gaining great spiritual merit, but not calculated to win 
 much love. 
 
 The teachings of Christian charity made her stand by 
 the strangers in afifiiction and leave no duty neglected ; 
 but that motive gone, she wished they would never cross 
 her path again. Too thoroughly well bred to allow this 
 feeling to be offensively apparent, she limited all further 
 intercourse with them to the absolutely unavoidable. 
 
 Alfred Karsten had at one time been too nearly allied 
 to this rank in life, and even yet harbored too much 
 secret sympathy with it, not to fully understand the 
 state of affairs, and not thoroughly to realize his own 
 position, which, however, he well knew how to respect. 
 The countess could not fail to be impressed by his quiet 
 dignity and perfectly cultured manners, while the nat- 
 ural beauty of his features was enhanced by the earnest 
 expression of his grief. 
 
 " And your child, will she accompany you ?" asked 
 the countess, after Karsten had expressed his gratitude 
 in the warmest manner and spoken of his departure. 
 
 A sad expression crossed his face, and brushing his 
 hand over his brow, as if to recover his composure, he 
 said in a trembling voice, " No ; one stroke robs me 
 of everything. Your chaplain has communicated to
 
 34 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 me my wife's last wishes with regard to our daughter. 
 They shall be sacred to me. I already knew her opinion 
 on the subject. She may have been right in saying 
 that my way of living is not a desirable path in which 
 to bring up a girl, and I shall faithfully comply with 
 her request. The priest has kindly given me some 
 addresses, and my first care will be to place Nora in a 
 convent school.' ' 
 
 " In a convent school !" said the countess, with aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 " You see an incongruity in this, madam," he replied 
 in bitter tones. " I myself would have selected a differ- 
 ent system of education for my daughter, but her 
 mother's wish shall be my law. She was brought up 
 in a convent, and always retained a great love for it. 
 May our daughter be as good and sweet as her mother," 
 he added, while a dark cloud again crossed his l)row. 
 
 " You are making a great sacrifice," said the coun- 
 tess, "but you will have the comfort of knowing that 
 you place your daughter in the very best of hands." 
 
 He bowed and pursued the subject no further. The 
 chaplain entered just at that moment, and presented 
 letters to Karsten and directions with regard to the 
 matter in question. Both men clasped hands cordially, 
 for these days of sorrow had brought them very near. 
 
 " Nora, our time is flying," said Karsten to the little 
 girl, who, standing in the window, did not seem to pay 
 any attention ; she was looking at Curt, who had just 
 said, " Take this little book in remembrance of to- 
 day."
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 35 
 
 " Wrile your name in it," she pleaded. 
 
 The boy drew out a pencil in order to humor her. 
 
 " Oh, you are writing more," she said, looking over 
 his shoulder. 
 
 He put his hand on her mouth and said quickly, 
 " Hush, hush ! Read this, but not aloud." 
 
 " ' When friends part they say. Until ive meet again.' 
 Oh, how pretty !" 
 
 " But you must not let any one see it," he urged, un- 
 willing, boy-like, that any one should discover how 
 much he felt. " Now, what are you going to give me 
 at parting ?" he asked, as he lifted her lightly from the 
 window-seat. 
 
 She thought a minute, and then holding one of her 
 curls, said to him naively, " Will you take this ? That 
 was what mamma gave papa as a remembrance." 
 
 The boy smiled and blushed. Although but thirteen, 
 the association of idea seemed to strike him. She 
 noticed his hesitation, and quickly detaching the pearl 
 and diamond heart from her neck, said, " No, take this." 
 
 " Your lovely heart which you received from the Em- 
 peror of Russia ! Oh, no ; you must not do that," said 
 he, declining it. 
 
 " But I can do it, and will do it, and you must take 
 it. I do not love any one in the world as well as you 
 except papa," and she threw her little arms around him, 
 
 " You will not be a circus-rider, will you ?" he whis- 
 pered, as he hung the ornament on his watch-chain. 
 
 " Nora," again called her father ; " come, my child, 
 we must say good-by."
 
 $6 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 Nora held the boy's hand fast as she came forwal"d 
 and looked at the countess, whose portly figure and 
 cold features did not excite her sympathy much, and 
 into whose hand she silently put hers. 
 
 " Have you nothing to say ?" inquired her father. 
 
 " Au rez'oir /" she said, as if the words were the echo 
 of something in her heart. 
 
 The countess seemed strangely disturbed. Had the 
 child pronounced what s/ie least desired ? But after a 
 moment she took the little one on her lap and said, 
 " Well, let it be au revoir. I hope I shall then find you 
 well and happy." 
 
 "And you also," answered the child, as she freed 
 herself from the lady's embrace and, bursting into tears, 
 ran to Curt. Karsten wished to say good-by to Curt, 
 but his voice entirely deserted him. Probably the mute, 
 manly shake of the hand which he gave made a deeper 
 impression on the boy than words could have done. 
 One more silent leave-taking with the chaplain, and 
 father and daughter were gone. 
 
 " What a peculiar man ! What strange circum- 
 stances !" said the countess to the priest after a pause. 
 " What queer fate has placed him in such a position ? 
 His whole appearance shows him to be above his call- 
 ing, and yet he seems to be perfectly happy in it. 
 Where does he think of placing his child ?" 
 
 The priest named one of the principal educational 
 institutions in Belgium. 
 
 " Good heavens ! your reverence, what induced you 
 to give him the address of that place, where only the
 
 THE CIRCUS RIDER S DAUGHTER. 37 
 
 daughters of our first families are educated ? It will 
 be most mortifying to the poor child." 
 
 " Karsten was most particular on the point. He 
 wished only the best and most desirable for his daugh- 
 ter. He must be rich." 
 
 " That is of no consequence," replied the countess 
 impatiently. " What can be expected from such a low 
 life ? The convent school is not for those who have 
 wandered all over creation. Intuition and the tastes 
 bred by early training will bring her back to the habits 
 of childhood. A thousand times better that she had 
 never left the path she had entered." 
 
 " The mother's principal care was for the soul of her 
 child, and on this account she dreaded the influences 
 that surround a circus-rider. She hoped that a good 
 education and piety would prove a shield in later years 
 to her daughter, and, therefore, wished her to be in- 
 structed in all that could prove conducive to this end." 
 
 " Illusions, illusions, my friend. They are only pre- 
 paring unhappiness for her. She will find no place 
 where she can take root." 
 
 " We must trust something to God's providence," 
 said the priest quietly. " Goer s flowers bloom in any soil ; " 
 and the mother's pious care could find no other way by 
 which to assure her child's safety." 
 
 These words sank deep into the heart of Curt, who 
 continued standing, sadly mourning for his little play- 
 fellow, and on whom the hard words of his mother fell 
 heavily, though he could not tell himself why. Since 
 the evening when he held the child in his arms and re-
 
 38 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 ceived the dying mother's blessing, Nora's lot seemed 
 to interest him, and he felt that in some way he would 
 be responsible for it. He was old enough to realize the 
 dangers of her position, and he grieved when he thought 
 on the possibilities of her future. He wished to save 
 and shelter her, and all kinds of plans ran through his 
 brain. He thought of asking his mother to adopt her 
 and bring her up with her own children, but he was 
 afraid to mention the idea, for he knew that she would 
 laugh at it. " God' s flowers bloom in any soil" was his 
 consolation, for to him Nora was like a tender flower.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 39 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 'T^EN years had passed. In the court of one of the 
 -^ numerous schools in Brussels a number of half- 
 grown girls were gathered round an old well. It was 
 a custom in the school for the pupils during the mid-day 
 recreation to draw water, and it was always a great 
 source of frolic and a chance for practical jokes. 
 
 It would seem as if the babbling waters must have 
 some mysterious charm to unloose woman's tongue, for 
 from time immemorial wells have been favorite places 
 of rendezvous for gossip. Around the convent foun- 
 tain there was now a whispering and a buzzing that 
 would have done credit to the Tower of Babel. 
 
 " See here, see here," cried a loud voice ; " see what 
 I can do !" and the speaker, with a dexterous hand, 
 seized a bucket full of water, and lightly swinging it to 
 her head walked away. 
 
 " Rebecca at the well ! Rebecca at the well !" was 
 heard on all sides. " Nora, you look like a picture cut 
 out of the Bible." 
 
 The comparison was not bad. The tall, slight figure, 
 clad in a simple dress, the white handkerchief folded 
 like a turban under the pitcher, the somewhat sharp, 
 but marked features, the black tresses hanging on either 
 side of the graceful neck — all made a picture which 
 might well remind one of the chosen of the patriarch,
 
 40 1 HE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 as the young girl stepped lightly up the steps of the 
 well. " Not a drop has fallen ; who can do that ?" Of 
 course the attempt was made by many, and more than 
 one dripping head tried to escape the notice of the Sister 
 in charge, who had just stepped in another direction. 
 Her absence seemed to encourage some of the boldest 
 to repeat the trial and to plan some mischievous tricks. 
 
 " Lily !" cried they to a younger girl who was seen 
 to approach, and whose timid step bespoke her a new 
 arrival ; " Lily, to-day the water is to be carried on the 
 head. You must try to do it." 
 
 " I cannot, I cannot," protested the child, but they 
 formed a circle around her and raised the vessel to her 
 head without more ado. A movement made it fall to 
 the ground, and the crying, drenched little one stood 
 motionless in the midst of the wild, laughing group. 
 
 " A sailor baptism ! Let us have a sailor baptism !" 
 screamed one saucy girl. The proposition found uni- 
 versal favor, and among fresh shouts of joy a second 
 shower covered the newly initiated ; the next minute, 
 however, she who had inaugurated the play strode forth 
 and, standing before Lily, cried, " Shame on you all, 
 you big girls, to frighten the child ! Another drop, and 
 I'll teach you to be sorry for it." 
 
 " Oh, Nora always wants things her way !" shouted 
 one defiantly. " But do not mind her. Forward, 
 march ! Lily is wet now, and she must be further bap- 
 tized." 
 
 Nora, who was quicker than the attacking party, 
 threw a well-aimed stream of water at them, so that,
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 4I 
 
 screaming and laughing, they had to withdraw, but 
 only to gather their forces, and for some minutes, if not 
 a bloody at least a watery fight was waged. 
 
 "Is this becoming conduct for young ladies?" was 
 suddenly heard from the Sister in charge, whose return 
 in the heat of the battle had not been noticed. " Who 
 began this rude sport?" she continued. "Lily, you 
 look terribly. I shall report the entire affair to Mother 
 Superior." 
 
 With these words she looked inquiringly into the cir- 
 cle, where silence now reigned. The majority sought, 
 with guilty countenances, to get into the background. 
 Nora alone stood unmoved in her place with the pitcher 
 in her hand. 
 
 " Ah, so it is you. Miss Nora !" said the Sister sharply. 
 " I should have hoped that your long residence in this 
 institution would have taught you better than to be 
 guilty of such rudeness ; but you seem to be incorrigi- 
 ble. I saw that you lifted the pitcher and were the 
 promoter of all this trouble. I shall not fail to report 
 it to Mother Superior, whose indulgence seems to make 
 you all the more haughty. You will remain in your 
 room during the remainder of the recreation, in order 
 that you may have time to reflect. You, Lily, go take 
 off your wet clothes. The young ladies will, it is hoped, 
 remember that such an affair must not happen again." 
 
 It is a peculiarity of small minds to throw the respon- 
 sibility of guilt on one person. Nora's rather indepen- 
 dent spirit and the too apparent favor of the Mother 
 Superior for her had long been a thorn in the flesh of
 
 42 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 this Sister, who now directed her sharp, bitter words 
 to her alone. The evil of party spirit is to be found 
 more or less in every state. 
 
 Nora received the order with perfect equanimity. 
 Not a word of explanation passed her lips. She merely 
 cast a look of contempt over the dumb group, not one 
 of whom came to her defence, tossed her haughty head 
 in the air, refilled her pitcher, and walked into the house. 
 
 The others followed her, some of the more honest 
 whispering, " We should not have allowed the whole 
 blame to fall on Nora. She was the least guilty, and 
 she is always so good to everybody. Why didn't Lily 
 speak ?" 
 
 " She speak !" continued another contemptuously. 
 
 " Oh, bah ! What does it matter ?" said the one who 
 had been the leader of the assault. " Madame will not 
 punish her ; she always protects her on account of the 
 secrecy of her descent. None of us know whence she 
 came, and her remarkable talent for acting creates sus- 
 picion." 
 
 " It is very strange that we are obliged to associate 
 with girls of whose parents nothing is known," said a 
 tall, haggard, vinegar-visaged girl. 
 
 " It is worse when they are known," replied another, 
 who by her quick repartee carried a sting, for it was 
 no secret that the one who was so tenacious of descent 
 did not bear one of the most distinguished names. 
 
 " For my part," said the last speaker, " I do not care 
 whether we know anything of Nora's family or not. 
 We do know that she is the best and cleverest of us all,
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 43 
 
 and her silence under unjust punishment proves it. To 
 me she is the best and truest friend, be her descent 
 higher or lower than mine." 
 
 The speaker was the daughter of a German prince, 
 and her conduct was another proof that those who are 
 sure of their position are often the most liberal. 
 
 All the rest of the day Nora had ample time for re- 
 flection. While her companions enjoyed recreation, 
 she sat alone in her room and gazed at the mountains, 
 whose tops appeared on the horizon. 
 
 The face which had been so gleesome in the morning 
 was now deeply earnest, and the mouth quivered like 
 that of a sobbing child. The solitude to which she was 
 condemned did not distress her. She loved it, as do 
 all earnest natures who commune with self. Perhaps 
 the shadows of the distant mountains had an influence 
 upon her, perhaps the blood which mounted to cheek 
 and forehead was too feverish for the confinement of 
 walls and longed to fly far beyond their limits. 
 
 A trembling hand touched her shoulder, a blonde 
 head caressed her, and a timid voice said, " Are you 
 lonely, Nora ? It was mean of me to allow you to be 
 punished for protecting me." 
 
 "Oh, is that you, Lily.' Do not trouble yourself. 
 The punishment is nothing ; but why were you so silent, 
 little chicken-heart ?" 
 
 " I never can speak ; I am always so afraid ; but I 
 am so sorry on your account. You have always been 
 so good and kind to me," said the little girl, as she 
 threw her arms around Nora's neck.
 
 44 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 The latter kissed her, saying, " Another time you will 
 know how to speak." Then looking at Lily sharply, 
 she added, " But you have been crying again. Shame ! 
 Who else could be so woeful for three months ?" 
 
 " I cannot help it. I am here against my will, and 
 I am homesick. You look sad also, Nora. You are 
 homesick, too, but you are too proud to acknowledge 
 it." 
 
 " Homesick !" said Nora. " No, on the contrary, 
 I believe I am far-away-sick. I have been here ten 
 years, and it has become a home to me, and yet I want 
 to go away. The ground burns beneath my feet. Oh, 
 that I could once again see other people, other places ; 
 once more see a horse, and jump in the air !" She 
 stretched out her arms longingly. 
 
 " Well, why don't you go home ? You are quite 
 grown up," said Lily, with all the respect which fifteen 
 feels for seventeen. 
 
 Nora blushed as she answered hesitatingly, " I have 
 no home. My mother died when I was young, and my 
 father is travelling." 
 
 "Where is your father?" inquired Lily inquisi- 
 tively. 
 
 Nora blushed still more deeply, and did not answer. 
 Ever since those days long ago in Switzerland she had 
 a peculiar feeling with regard to her father's position, 
 which the reserve of the nuns had strengthened. She 
 now turned a deaf ear to the question, and the entrance 
 of one of the other pupils gave her an excuse for chang- 
 ing the subject.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 45 
 
 " Come in, Elizabeth ; come in," she said. " We 
 both are rather blue here ; Lily is homesick." 
 
 " And Nora \s far-away-sick,''' added the latter. 
 
 ''Far-away-sick!''' repeated the newcomer, who was 
 no other than Nora's champion of a few minutes before. 
 " Far-away-sick ! I don't know what that means. I so 
 love the quiet within these walls, where one has but one 
 object in view, that I dread to leave them." 
 
 " I understand your meaning," said Nora, turning to 
 the last speaker, " but I am not like you. My thoughts 
 wander over the whole earth, while yours only tend 
 upward." 
 
 Happily said, as usual, Nora," replied Elizabeth 
 smilingly ; " but who knows what the future may bring 
 forth, let our wishes be what they may." 
 
 " The future !" gasped Nora. " Oh, how I should 
 like to know what it has in store ! It is such an enigma 
 to me, that I can form no idea how my life may be 
 passed." 
 
 " I know my future perfectly," said Lily contentedly. 
 
 " You, little one !" exclaimed both the elder girls 
 together. 
 
 "Yes; why not? My aunt settled it all. I am to 
 remain one year here ; then I shall return home and 
 marry my cousin." 
 
 The two girls laughed aloud and said, " You marry 
 your cousin ! Are you quite sure ? Do you know him ?" 
 
 " There is nothing to laugh at," continued the child, 
 pouting. " It was papa's dying wish, and my aunt and 
 every one approves of it."
 
 46 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Who is the happy cousin ?" persisted the teasing 
 Nora just as the bell was heard. 
 
 " That is your call to the Superior," said Elizabeth. 
 " Sister Barbara seemed inexorable when we made ex- 
 cuses for 3'ou." 
 
 Lily stole up to Nora and said, " Shall I accompany 
 you and tell how it happened ?" 
 
 No, sweetheart ; I shall not trouble you. I fight 
 my own battles." A look of fearless energy shone in 
 her eyes as she added gayly, " I long to struggle with 
 life and conquer. Better a whirlwind than everlasting 
 quiet ; and now for the little storm which Sister has 
 raised." 
 
 "Be careful; it may be worse than you think," 
 warned Elizabeth, with all the importance which school- 
 life attaches to such things, where the blue ribbon of 
 good conduct is as much coveted as the honors in the 
 gift of a prince. 
 
 Nora went forward laughingly and "sprang upstairs 
 two steps at a time, but at the Superior's door she hesi- 
 tated like a raw recruit who dreads to aggravate the 
 danger by boldness. She had not, however, to encoun- 
 ter the eye of the Superior ready to pronounce judg- 
 ment, for the latter was lost in thought, sitting at her 
 table with an open letter before her, from which she 
 looked to the young girl with a troubled expression. 
 
 Madame Sybille was a small, delicate woman, but 
 her eyes shone with the energy which is so necessary in 
 the directress of a large institution, such as that of 
 which we write. As Nora approached her she arose.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 47 
 
 and with both hands drew the girl gently toward her, 
 saying, " My child, there is always a turning-point in 
 life, on which our future greatly depends." 
 
 Nora had expected to be addressed so differently, 
 that those earnest words impressed her so deeply, she 
 could only say, in the most anxious accent, " Oh, 
 father ! Oh, father !" 
 
 " Compose yourself," said the nun hastily. " He is 
 well and very happy, dear, as he writes in this letter, 
 in which he charges me to prepare you for an event 
 which is shortly to take place." 
 
 Nora looked bewildered, then a gleam of hope over- 
 spread her countenance as she asked, " Is he going to 
 abandon the business ?" 
 
 The nun shook her head, and it seemed hard for her 
 to speak. " My child," she continued at length, " it is 
 a long time since God took his wife, your mother, to 
 Himself. Providence gave you a home with us. Would 
 to God that it were in our power to give you all a 
 mother's love !" 
 
 Nora pressed her lips to the hand of Madame Sybille, 
 who had been the first to console her orphan sorrow, 
 and on whose breast she had cried bitter tears on 
 being separated from her father. A tender tie bound 
 her to the woman who had filled the place of her dead 
 mother as fully as the rules of the cloister would al- 
 low. 
 
 " Your father has been very lonesome, doubly lone- 
 some on account of the sacrifice whicii he made for 
 your education. He is now anxious to create a new
 
 4o THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 domestic circle and to give you a home. He is going 
 to be married, my child." 
 
 Nora's eyes opened wider and wider ; she seemed un- 
 able to comprehend the words, and she merely stared 
 vacantly. 
 
 " He is going to be married," repeated the nun, as 
 she resumed her seat. " He sends the announcement 
 of his betrothal to a Miss Emily Lauer." 
 
 It was scarcely possible to judge whether Nora had 
 understood the simple words or not, her eyes looked so 
 vacant, but she threw her hands over her head and 
 uttered a piercing cry of sorrow. 
 
 "Sit down, darling," said the nun, handing her a 
 chair and embracing her fondly. Nora's head fell 
 heavily on her shoulder ; her forebodings seemed about 
 to be realized. She and her father were most tenderly 
 united, although they had seen so little of each other. 
 Several times in the year he visited her, and the whole 
 school was generally thrown into a state of excitement 
 over the splendid-looking man who showered gifts on 
 his daughter which made her very proud of him. He 
 also wrote, and in his correspondence with her, as had 
 formerly been the case with her mother, his finest feel- 
 ings found expression. His early training, too, was so- 
 perceptible throughout his writing, that Nora, as she 
 grew older, was not slow to recognize that it was only 
 misfortune which caused him to adopt his profession, 
 and to conclude that it must be a source of unhappiness 
 to him. 
 
 To be a comfort to him, to replace by her love all that
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 49 
 
 she suspected he had lost, and to do all in her power to 
 reconcile him to his lot, had long been her childhood's 
 dream. She had determined to be all to him, to be the 
 nearest and dearest, and now she had calmly to see 
 that coveted place filled and her mother's memory, per- 
 haps, effaced. 
 
 To youth the inconstancy of love seems an unnatural 
 thing, from which it shrinks. Nora's father, from 
 being her idol, sank deeply in her estimation, for the 
 young always rush into extremes when their feelings 
 are wounded. Alas ! later years teach them how much 
 those feelings can bear. 
 
 Madame Sybille saw the bitter expression on Nora's 
 mouth and the violence with which she pushed away 
 her father's letter, and said to her, as she stroked her 
 dark hair, " My child, do not condemn that which you 
 cannot understand. You little know the loneliness of 
 advancing years." 
 
 " But he had me !" cried the girl violently. " I 
 would so willingly have hastened to him. Oh, it is un- 
 pardonable in him !" 
 
 " And would you have always remained with him ? 
 Children often go away." 
 
 A deep blush rose to Nora's forehead, and that inde- 
 scribable something which such a question awakes in 
 every girl went through her heart. She remembered 
 how lately she had tried to penetrate the future, and 
 her eyes sank in confusion. 
 
 No one has the right to measure the happiness of 
 others by his own standard ; that is mere egotism.
 
 5© THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Look on this matter as the decree of Providence. Your 
 father wishes to provide a home for you, to w^hich he 
 can bring you soon after his marriage. You will then 
 leave us, dear child, which I, for one, shall regret very 
 much." 
 
 But Nora paid no attention to the kind words ; her 
 thoughts were too much preoccupied. 
 
 " Is the lady — the lady," she hesitated, and in a 
 trembling voice continued — " one of the company ?" 
 
 " It is not probable," said Madame Sybille in a con- 
 ciliatory voice, " that he would seek a companion in 
 any other sphere. He has not said so directly, but his 
 silence leaves this to be inferred. He says that her 
 goodness and amiability will be sure to make you 
 happy." 
 
 " Oh !" cried Nora in despair, and throwing herself 
 into the Superior's arms. " Worse and worse ! Do 
 not let me go to her ! Keep me here ! keep me here !" 
 and she burst into a torrent of tears. 
 
 The nun embraced the weeping, trembling child as 
 if she longed to keep her safe. Had the words been 
 spoken from her soul ? Were they the echoes of her 
 heart's desire ? Madame was a true religious, long- 
 serving in her vocation. Hundreds of children had she 
 welcomed, and as many had she seen bid her a tearful 
 farewell. What deep, conscientious interest she had 
 taken in their welfare, forgetful of self ! But there are 
 natures which possess a magic influence, as there are 
 lands which seem a paradise. With rare intelligence 
 this good nun had always tried to smooth away prej-
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 51 
 
 udices born of difference of position in life, and in this 
 case Nora's heartfelt love rewarded her. She had 
 formed a deep friendship for the child whose future 
 had occupied so much of her thought. Nora was not 
 one to pass through life unnoticed, and to take a hum- 
 ble place. What a life, what an influence awaited her ! 
 She would be thrown into the most trying position with- 
 out protection, without guardianship. Was it, then, to 
 be wondered at that Madame Sybille wished her favor- 
 ite in God's house ? to plant this tender flower in the 
 shade of these walls, where she could be protected from 
 every storm ? 
 
 Never, save in prayer, had a word of all this passed 
 her lips ; but now the appeal of the child encouraged 
 her to say, " Stay, my dear child. Can you decide to 
 remain with us, and to walk in the quiet path for God 
 and in God ? He gives the fullest peace, and is the 
 safest haven in the tempest. I would hail the hour of 
 your entrance." 
 
 She spoke affectionately and impressively. Nora's 
 head lay against her shoulder, so that her countenance 
 was not visible, but raising up her face the girl said 
 softly and decidedly, " No, no, I cannot. It was only 
 pride that inspired the thought. Peace and quiet I do 
 not choose ; in the haven I cannot remain. Rather 
 would I face the storm and conquer the danger. I 
 have been happy here, but do not ask me to stay. Let 
 me away, away ! I cannot be Mary at the Lord's feet." 
 
 A look of disappointment passed over the face of the 
 nun, and then she smiled at the wild language of the
 
 ( 
 
 52 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 girl and said, " Then go, my child, go. Every one 
 must choose his own path. May the battle not be too 
 fierce for you. Struggles and dangers are not always 
 bad for us. I shall miss you — your old friend will miss 
 you. It is only one more sacrifice which the Master 
 asks ; we shall be united in spirit." 
 
 " Oh, how will it all end ? It is so dreadful !" said 
 Nora, shuddering. 
 
 " 'Seek not to know the future,' writes Thomas a 
 Kempis ; accommodate yourself to it. Remember one 
 thing, wherever your life may be cast, the child is not 
 above the father ; this is the law of both God and man. 
 Accept it with humility from the beginning. Our part- 
 ing is not far distant. In three months your father will 
 come for you. Now go, the Angelus is ringing. In 
 prayer you can best recollect yourself. I give you per- 
 mission to have your supper brought to your room ; 
 one is best alone when meeting trials. Go now, dear- 
 est, answer your father's letter affectionately, for he 
 has always been a loving father to you." 
 
 Nora left the room. She read her father's letter, and 
 dwelt on the love which, as usual, it expressed for her. 
 She tried to think unselfishly on her fate, and to picture 
 the impending change in the most glowing colors. 
 After going to bed she lay awake a long time, and as 
 her eye rested on each familiar object, which years of 
 association had endeared to her, she felt as if about to 
 lose everything. From the black cross on the wall to 
 the white curtains around her bed, all was simple, pure 
 and tasteful, as is fitting to a young girl before she
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 53 
 
 enters on the glare and restlessness of the world. Quiet 
 and simplicity pervaded everything, like the fresh per- 
 fume of the wild flower, and stood out in startling con- 
 trast to the uncertainty and publicity which awaited 
 her. Once more the haven she had sighed to leave 
 seemed to invite her, and the pang of separation so 
 tightened around her heart that she sobbed aloud. 
 
 A light step approached and an arm was thrown 
 around her neck. It was Lily, who shared her room, 
 and who now asked simply, " Was it so very bad ?" 
 
 "What?" said Nora, who had quite forgotten the 
 occurrences of the day. " Oh, no," she quickly added, 
 recollecting herself; "it was nothing. I am going 
 away, Lily ; going away from here to father." 
 
 " Then your far-away-sickness is cured ?" replied her 
 little friend. " But why do you cry ?" 
 
 " Oh, Lily, pray that it may not turn out Jiomesick- 
 ness ; perhaps I was impatient." 
 
 " How can it be homesickness in the midst of home ?" 
 persisted her questioner.
 
 54 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IT was April. Gray clouds chased one another in the 
 sky ; miniature snowflakes flew in the wind, but 
 where the clouds separated the blue heaven smiled out, 
 and the sun shot down bright rays which thawed the 
 snowflakes and hung them like glistening jewels on the 
 tender brown and green buds. The earth seemed warm 
 with spring's sweet breath. Oh, the joyous, laughing 
 month of April ! It beguiles man from the cold winter 
 and the plants and flowers from their protecting clay, 
 only to mock them with a whistling wind and shower. 
 Yet who can resist the tricksy sprite, notwithstanding 
 all her fickleness ? 
 
 On that April day a looker-on in the great Rhenish 
 university town might have seen a great crowd, which 
 walked up and down beneath the leafless trees as though 
 it thirsted to drink in the first spring air and bask in 
 the rays of King Sol, who seemed to have reasserted 
 his sway ; and yet small pools of water in the streets 
 stood tell-tale witnesses of the storm only just past, and 
 certain dark streaks in the sky gave unmistakable warn- 
 ing of what might be expected. 
 
 Among the promenaders the bright-colored, saucy 
 cap of the student was prominent, the independent 
 step of its wearer telling that it felt at home here. 
 There must be some strange affinity between the Ger-
 
 I 
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 55 
 
 man April and German student life. As April is the 
 stepping-stone from the storms and fury of March to 
 the warmth and promise of May, so the student period 
 is the unfolding of the character, the gradual approach 
 from boyhood's wild dreams to man's thoughtful ear- 
 nestness. A secret, indescribable change is going on 
 in these middle periods of nature and of man. 
 
 April showers cover the earth with golden vines, juicy 
 fruits, and shady trees ; student life fills the world with n 
 earnest workers and good men. 
 
 The young people on the promenade showed the well- 
 known brotherhood which exists between collegians, 
 gathering in groups and seemingly absorbed in matters 
 of self-importance ; matters of trifling interest to the 
 uninitiated, but of grave import to those within the 
 mystic circle. 
 
 One of these groups was separating with bows and 
 hand-shakings, and the words " Hotel X., four o'clock ; 
 Bole" betrayed their plans for the close of the day. 
 Two members of this party, who in figure and personal 
 appearance presented a marked difference, turned into 
 an adjacent street. The extreme corpulence, the youth- 
 ful, round face, blonde locks, and florid complexion of 
 the one would have given merely the impression of Ger- 
 man ease and comfort, did not a closer view of the clear 
 gray eye and the compressed mouth tell of a judgment 
 rarely mistaken and a purpose rarely foiled. 
 
 His companion seemed thin by comparison, but he 
 was sufficiently developed for the ensuring of strength 
 and endurance. His expression was as changing as his
 
 56 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 friend's was steadfast, and although his eyes were re- 
 treating, they were his best feature. They had the 
 depth and brilliancy usually accompanying brown eyes, 
 and while perhaps lacking determination, were full of 
 sentiment and thought. The broad forehead was indic- 
 ative of fair talent, and its white, smooth surface 
 seemed the home of honesty and purity. The lower 
 part of the face was the weak point, the thin mustache 
 shading a mouth which indicated amiability more 
 than strength. His words, too, carried this idea as he 
 said, twirling his cane in the air, " I believe that this is 
 the only spot where one really lives. Here one goes 
 and comes and enjoys himself better than anywhere 
 else. Nature allures, men allure, life allures, so that 
 one feels with each breath the glorious joy of free- 
 dom." 
 
 " You Southerners are always boys in your universi- 
 ties," said his companion, with that quiet contempt 
 which the practical North German loves to show for 
 those who do not agree with him. " Everything here 
 is secondary to the golden freedom — vulgo, beer or 
 golden vine juice. You must be prepared for to-night. 
 At the last bout a certain fox got caught early in the 
 evening." 
 
 " The beginning is always hard, but perseverance 
 conquers," replied the other, laughing. " But, frankly, 
 those bouts are little to my taste ; one can hardly be 
 temperate." 
 
 " Better to go, however, than never to have been fud- 
 dled in this vale of tears. The head to which wine has
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 57 
 
 never mounted has nothing in it. Where do you pro- 
 pose to rest from over-study this Easter vacation ?" 
 
 " I have not yet decided. Come, listen, Dahnovv ; 
 accompany me home, and see the spot where your 
 parents so often were and where our fathers became 
 friends." 
 
 " Thank you heartily for the invitation, but I would 
 prefer going in autumn, during the hunting season. 
 Will your mother welcome you home then again?" 
 asked Dahnow slily. 
 
 " She has always a welcome for me whenever I 
 come." 
 
 "Well, proposition for proposition, Degenthal. Let 
 us make a tour through the valley of the Neckar. I 
 have been discussing it with some friends." 
 
 " That would not be so bad ; I shall write home on 
 the subject.' ' 
 
 " Oh, pshaw !" exclaimed Dahnow impatiently. "De- 
 cide for yourself ; you are not tied to your mother's 
 apron-strings." 
 
 A look of vexation passed over the countenance of 
 Degenthal, and he drew himself up as he said, " You 
 may have your own opinions on these subjects, but I 
 cannot endure the coarse carelessness with which it is 
 the fashion here to refer to home ; there is something 
 boorish in it which grates on me." 
 
 " It is equally disagreeable to me, although I am not 
 so happy as to have a home," replied the stout com- 
 panion. " Nevertheless, a man is a man, and a child is 
 a child. Exaggeration oversteps itself in the long run,
 
 58 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 and if you stop now to ask about trifles, after awhile 
 you will not follow advice in important matters, for no 
 one is always submissive." 
 
 There was a certain force in this argument which the 
 other was unable to refute. Submission to the will of 
 another had become half habit and half duty with him. 
 After a few minutes he added in an apologetic tone, 
 " My mother has almost exclusively guided my educa- 
 tion, and I do not wish to oppose her.'* 
 
 " Now, now, do not misunderstand me. No one 
 must make assertions which he is not ready to substan- 
 tiate. Your mother is too intelligent not to consider 
 your will while she expects her own judgment to be re- 
 spected. Show a certain independence ; that will 
 strengthen you and not offend her." 
 
 Degenthal remained silent, while with his stick he 
 knocked the heads off the flowers by the roadside. It 
 was a new experience to hear that which he had always 
 considered a virtue criticised. 
 
 Like many women to whom fate has given the exclu- 
 sive guidance of their sons, the countess had influenced 
 Curt through his filial sentiments. Now he began to 
 understand why his tutor had so often tried to change 
 the existing circumstances, but the uncomfortable feel- 
 ing which so often accompanies a sense of being in the 
 wrong took possession of him, and they let the subject 
 drop. They walked on in silence until they were 
 obliged to draw aside in order to let pass two riders, 
 whose horses' hoofs made but little noise, owing to the 
 soft, sandy soil.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 59 
 
 " Thunder ! What horses ! I have never seen finer !" 
 cried Dahnow. 
 
 " But what a rider ! She was beautiful. Who can 
 she be ?" added the other with enthusiasm. 
 
 " Well, if she wants to be looked at she must not 
 mount such a gray. It is the finest animal my eyes 
 ever gazed upon." 
 
 " What taste ! The lady blinded me to the brute. 
 Dahnow, you know every one in these parts ; who can 
 they be ? The gentleman's face seems familiar to me ; 
 the lady had dark hair." 
 
 " God bless us, boy, you are observant. They are 
 not natives ; such horses are not to be found about 
 here ; they must be strangers. Tourists swarm at this 
 season. But, friend, if you can bring back your gaze 
 from following the beauty, please look at the clouds." 
 
 " It has become cool and looks threatening ; we must 
 hasten our steps if we mean to get under shelter in time." 
 
 " Run, then," replied the stout one. " Running is 
 no joke to me ; one gets out of breath and wet into the 
 bargain. Now, one evil is enough for me." 
 
 " Then I leave you to your fate ; my breath can run 
 a race with the storm. At four we meet, provided you 
 are not washed away in the mean time ; there is no 
 danger of your being blown away." 
 
 Dahnow phlegmatically buttoned his coat around 
 him, and plodded resolutely through the snow and hail, 
 which began to fall heavily. As he approached the 
 town he met the equestrians returning. As they were 
 passing him the lady's hat flew off, and was carried by
 
 6o THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 the wind along the muddy road. The accident caused 
 her to rein up her galloping horse, and she did it with 
 a skill that was not lost on his appreciative eye. 
 
 With an agility scarcely to be credited in one of his 
 build, he sprang forward and saved the hat just as it 
 was on the point of falling into a deep dyke, and car- 
 ried it back to its owner. A small gloved hand was 
 stretched to receive it, a glowing countenance looked 
 out from a wealth of wet hair, and a pair of deep blue 
 eyes shone with such a sweet expression of gratitude, 
 that even the tightly-buttoned overcoat did not keep its 
 owner proof against a certain delight which shot to the 
 heart of our fat student. The high wind wafted away 
 her spoken thanks, and the truant hat once safely 
 secured, the fair rider followed her companion on a full 
 gallop and was soon lost to sight. 
 
 " By George !" muttered Dahnow to himself. " The 
 rascal was right ; she is a beauty ! If it were not for 
 the miserable plight in which the storm has left me I 
 would hunt through the hotels until I found her 
 name ; but as it is I would cut a pretty figure," he 
 added, as he looked down sadly on his wet and muddy 
 clothes. 
 
 A couple of hours later the joyous voice of Degenthal 
 greeted him with the words, " Hello ! You are not 
 drowned." 
 
 " No, as you may perceive ; and, furthermore, I have 
 had a lucky adventure." 
 
 " Fat people are always lucky." 
 
 " Your grayhound put you on a wrong scent. Guess
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 6l 
 
 whom I have seen. Such a providential opening to an 
 introduction ! A truly knightly service." 
 
 " What ! To the pretty equestrienne ? She fell from 
 her horse, and you saved her?" 
 
 " Unfortunately only her hat." 
 
 " Unfortunately, wretch ! Who is she ?" 
 
 " It was not written on the hat." 
 
 " Pshaw ! Your acquaintance did not go far. Come, 
 let us go in ; the others are waiting for us." 
 
 The young men had made an appointment to meet 
 that evening to give a dinner in honor of a former com- 
 panion, who had returned to enjoy a few days of student 
 life. They were gathered round a table somewhat apart, 
 and soon the sound of merry repartee, laughing, and 
 the popping of champagne sent repeated echoes from 
 their corner of the dining-room. Dahnow, who pos- 
 sessed that rare talent which a witty Frenchman de- 
 scribed as the power of looking serious while making 
 others laugh, gave an amusing account of his morning 
 adventure. His story provoRed many light questions 
 and witty answers. 
 
 Suddenly Degenthal stood up close to his friend and, 
 pointing to a stranger, who had just entered and taken 
 a seat, whispered, " Look, there he is !" Returning to 
 his seat, he communed with himself, " I am sure I know 
 him ; I have seen those features before." 
 
 Dahnow turned to the rest of the company and said, 
 " There sits our hero, but without the heroine. He is 
 probably a tyrannical father or a jealous husband, who 
 shuts his beauty up from the vulgar gaze."
 
 62 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 The eyes of the young men turned toward the new 
 arrival, when the guest of the evening broke out, " In- 
 deed, you are right ; he is very particular not to show 
 his womenfolk. That is Karsten, the great circus di- 
 rector. I saw him a few weeks ago at W , where 
 
 he was going to exhibit. He has a young wife, who 
 is pretty. It must have been her whom you young gen- 
 tlemen saw," continued the speaker. 
 
 " No, no ; it must have been Nora — little Nora ! 
 How is it possible that I did not know her? I must see 
 her !" cried Degenthal excitedly. 
 
 " Nora — little Nora ! It seems that you are rather 
 familiar," said Dahnow with astonishment. 
 
 " Nora Karsten," reiterated Degenthal, not noticing 
 his friend's commentary. " No wonder the features 
 seemed familiar. How beautiful she has grown !" 
 
 " Our fox seems bewitched," chimed the whole com- 
 pany. " Here, fox, is to your equestrian princess. 
 She will not be so coy, surely, as to refuse her acquaint- 
 ance to the rest of us." 
 
 The light tone of the young men wounded Degenthal, 
 and he turned to them with an earnest, sad expression, 
 saying, " Gentlemen, a strange accident brought my 
 mother and the family of Herr Karsten together. Miss 
 Nora was then but a child, and being under my mother's 
 protection, we became fast friends. That is all there 
 is to it." 
 
 The students exchanged looks of incredulity, and one 
 of them, to whose head the wine had mounted, lifted his 
 glass with the toast, " To our fox's youthful friendship."
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 63 
 
 Degenthal's eyes flashed, and he was about to return 
 an angry reply, when Dahnow arrested him by drawing 
 his attention to the fact that Karsten was about to leave 
 the room. 
 
 Degenthal hastened toward the director, and in a 
 voice trembling with emotion said, " Herr Karsten, 
 allow me to renew our acquaintance, formed in Geneva 
 — Count Degenthal," he added, as the other evidently 
 did not recognize him. 
 
 " Count Degenthal ! This is indeed a great surprise 
 and a real pleasure." 
 
 A flood of recollections seemed to choke the utterance 
 of the director, but he put out both his hands, which the 
 young count shook heartily, adding, " I saw you riding 
 this morning, and your features seemed familiar to me." 
 
 " The snow has fallen here since those days," said 
 the director with a smile, as he passed his fingers 
 through his hair. " I would not have recognized you, 
 count, which at your time of life is a compliment. How 
 is the countess, your mother ? I owe her a world of 
 gratitude." The voice of the strong man trembled 
 with tender recollection. 
 
 " Thank you, my mother is quite well. We still live 
 in our Moravian home. It is merely my university 
 course that separates us at present." 
 
 " And now you are enjoying the sweets of student life ; 
 that is right. Does your old chaplain still live with 
 your family ? He once had the goodness to write to 
 me, but my wandering life makes me one of the poorest 
 of correspondents."
 
 64 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Oh, certainly ; we would not know how to do with- 
 out him. We have often thought of you, and spoken 
 of those days we spent together in Switzerland. Was 
 that Miss Nora who accompanied you this morning?" 
 asked the young man, with a slightly heightened color, 
 which came and went like a girl's. 
 
 " Yes ; that was my daughter, whom my recent mar- 
 riage enabled me to bring home from the convent where 
 she was educated." 
 
 A perplexed expression passed over Degenthal's coun- 
 tenance, which did not escape Karsten's notice. An em- 
 barrassing pause followed, broken by the latter remark- 
 ing, " Even in a wandering life one needs a home as 
 one grows old." 
 
 " Accept my congratulations ; but Miss Nora ? May 
 I be permitted to renew our former acquaintance ?" 
 
 " If you will do us the honor. For the present we are 
 stopping at the hotel, but I have hired a villa, where my 
 wife and daughter will remain for some time. The wife 
 requires rest, and Nora takes no part in my business." 
 
 "May I call on her there?" asked Degenthal with 
 warmth. 
 
 " If you will honor us," repeated the director, in a 
 tone that showed him determined not to intrude one 
 step on their former acquaintance. 
 
 " At what hour am I most likely to find you and the 
 ladies at home ?" continued Degenthal. 
 
 " The mornings I devote to my business ; the after- 
 noons belong to my family. We shall be glad to see 
 you to-morrow."
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 65 
 
 " To-morrow, then, I shall have the pleasure of call- 
 ing ; in the mean time will you present my compliments 
 to Miss Nora ?" 
 
 " My daughter would not forgive me if I failed to 
 tell her of this meeting. She has as vivid a recollection 
 as I of your kindness, count." 
 
 While this cordial meeting was taking place the 
 young men at the dining-table were keen observers of 
 the parties, and as Karsten looked in that direction he 
 said, " Count, I think that I observe among your friends 
 a young gentleman to whom I feel indebted on my 
 daughter's account. May I ask you to introduce me to 
 the stout gentleman sitting in the corner ?" 
 
 " Oh, my friend, Dahnow. He told me of this morn- 
 ing's accident ; let us go to him. Dahnow, Director 
 Karsten wishes a word with you. Director Karsten, 
 Baron Dahnow, a sturdy scion of the Mecklenburg 
 race." 
 
 " If I do not mistake, baron, it was you who came to 
 my daughter's assistance this morning," said the direct- 
 or, bowing with all the grace and ease of an accom- 
 plished man of the world. 
 
 " Unfortunately my figure makes me easily recog- 
 nizable. I must acknowledge the soft impeachment ; 
 but the honor was on my side to have assisted so beauti- 
 ful a lady," said Dahnow gallantly. " If you will ac- 
 cord me the same permission you have granted my 
 friend Degenthal, I shall present myself to receive in 
 person the acknowledgments of the fair lady for my 
 knightly deed."
 
 66 THE circus-rider's daughter. 
 
 " Certainly ; it will give me great pleasure to have the 
 quiet lives of my wife and daughter enlivened by your 
 visits, gentlemen." 
 
 It was now Dahnow's turn to bow low, which he did, 
 saying, " Pray, join us in drinking to our further ac- 
 quaintance." 
 
 " I should be pleased to accept your kind invitation 
 were it not that business is particularly urgent to-day, 
 and the time is gone by when it would become my gray 
 hairs to join with your young locks. Only once in life 
 does this golden time come, so you will kindly excuse 
 me, count." 
 
 Degenthal stretched out his hand, and with a bow to 
 the party of students Karsten took his leave. 
 
 " What a handsome man !" said one of the students. 
 " Some suspect that he is a wayward son of a good 
 family, others that he is an officer whose debts have 
 swamped him, while still others say that he is a Jew who 
 has mastered Yankee humbug." 
 
 If he is a Jew, then I am one !" called out a lusty 
 Westphalian, whose light hair and turned-up nose 
 would have cleared him all over the world from any 
 suspicion of Semitic taint. 
 
 " Have you ever seen him on horseback ? Why, he is 
 a very centaur, and his skill is no humbug." 
 
 " Fatty," called out one of the party, " you are selfish- 
 ness itself. You might just as well have included us all 
 in the pilgrimage to the shrine of the unknown beauty." 
 
 " There was no necessity for a deputation," replied 
 Dahnow curtly.
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 67 
 
 "Well, we shall see the beauty, nevertheless," con- 
 tinued the tipsy-head. " Degenthal, here's to your 
 belle. Don't be so churlish as to hide her from us. 
 Here's to the health of Miss Karsten." 
 
 Degenthal sprang to his feet and, his eyes flaming, 
 said, " Sir, you have no right to use the name of a 
 lady — " 
 
 What further he wished to say was interrupted by the 
 unaccountable falling of two large decanters among the 
 glasses, scattering them and their contents. Everything 
 was in confusion : the guests inquiring the cause of the 
 accident and the waiters trying to repair the damages. 
 In the viele'e Dahnow took his friend by the arm, saying, 
 " Come, there has been enough of this. A little fresh 
 air and an honest glass of beer will do you good. Come 
 before the others notice us." 
 
 For a moment Degenthal hesitated, and then con- 
 cluded to do as requested. 
 
 " You can pay for the glasses ; my part was to keep 
 the peace unbroken," said Dahnow with his habitual 
 dryness as they left the dining-ioom. 
 
 " Dahnow, did you do it purposely ?" 
 
 " How else could I silence your parliamentary har- 
 angue ?" 
 
 " But why did you Interrupt me ? It's shameful to 
 use a young lady's name in this manner. I cannot con- 
 ceive why you should object to my expressing my views 
 on the subject." 
 
 " In the first place, because words spoken in wine 
 should not be noticed ; in the second, because I have
 
 68 THE circus-rider's daughter. 
 
 too much respect for any woman, no matter what her 
 position, willingly to drag her name into a student's 
 brawl. Do you imagine that it would have reflected 
 any credit on Miss Karsten to have you pick a quarrel 
 on her account ?" 
 
 Degenthal was silenced by the correct reasoning of 
 his friend, but chafing inwardly, he resumed the con- 
 versation by asking, " Why do you lay such stress on 
 whatever her position is ?" 
 
 " Because her father's business leaves her open to 
 certain familiarity." 
 
 " But she was never connected with it. From her 
 earliest childhood she was taken away and educated in 
 one of the most exclusive of Belgian schools. Her 
 mother was a woman of the greatest refinement, whom 
 my mother tended in her last moments, which was the 
 origin of our acquaintance. Her father has got ample 
 means to give his daughter an independent position." 
 
 " Notwithstanding all of which the poor girl is in a 
 trying place. Are you really going there to-morrow ?" 
 
 " Certainly ; nothing more natural. My mother will, 
 no doubt, be pleased to hear of little Nora, in whom 
 we all took so deep an interest." 
 
 Dahnow did not seem to be quite so confident of the 
 countess's extreme joy, and said in his half ironical 
 manner, " Well, it is a complicated matter, and if I 
 were blessed with a mother I rather think I should con- 
 sult her."
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 69 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 FACING the city lay one of those charming villas, 
 such as the poetic mind of the German knows how 
 to create , a gem set in circlets of climbing plants and 
 nestling on a green, shady lawn, which was broken by 
 gorgeous and odorous flower-beds. Many such resi- 
 dences form a continuous chain along the suburban 
 roads of Heidelberg, inhabited by those who seek to 
 unite the social enjoyments of the city with the love of 
 nature and its refining influences. Each villa has as 
 many windows as possible looking on the beautiful river, 
 whose waters are so dear to every Rhinelander. 
 
 Karsten had hired one of these home nests for the 
 summer months, and there installed his wife and daugh- 
 ter, surrounding them with all the comforts and lux- 
 uries in which self-earned fortune so often revels, in con- 
 tradis'tinction to inherited means, which seems sat- 
 isfied with what time has meted out. There is more 
 reason in each of these characteristics than may at first 
 appear. The consciousness of having earned what he 
 possesses, and the feeling of the power to increase it, 
 makes a man more reckless in spending. The labor of 
 acquiring calls for necessary recreation, while the fact 
 of having fortune transmitted breeds a sense of respon- 
 sibility of keeping it intact. 
 
 The one state also calls for a certain exterior show in
 
 70 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 asserting itself, with which the other can dispense, its 
 place and rank having by circumstances been assigned 
 to it. 
 
 Nora was seated in her favorite corner of the cosey 
 ifoudoir opening off the drawing-room, which commanded 
 the best view. It was the month of May. Six months 
 had passed since she had taken leave of her beloved 
 convent. She was dreaming of bygone days, and smiled 
 as she reviewed these months and failed to find in them 
 any of the snares and dangers which her desire for an 
 earnest life had pictured to her imagination. Her 
 father had received her with the greatest tenderness, 
 his sole thought seeming to be to surround her with 
 everything she could wish. Her young step-mother 
 was an amiable, harmless little body, very much occu- 
 pied with a sense of the change in her new position, 
 which her golden hair and blue eyes had won for her, 
 much to the envy of her old associates of the ring. The 
 director had spoken the truth when he gave as an ex- 
 cuse for his second marriage his desire to make a home 
 for his daughter. He longed to have once more a place 
 where he could take refuge from the trials of his wan- 
 dering career, but he was now too old to seek it in a 
 circle congenial to his own birth and his daughter's 
 education, so his choice, perforce, had to be made from 
 a profession not bearing the highest reputation for 
 modesty. 
 
 Madame Emilie realized that her best policy was to 
 win the good will of her step-daughter ; and, indeed, 
 she was too light-hearted and indifferent to feel any
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 71 
 
 serious unfriendliness, and Nora's naturally good dis- 
 position met her half way. What her father's wife 
 lacked in refinement Nora tried to think was compen- 
 sated for by her genial, amiable ways ; and a certain 
 respect for the superiority of her daughter maintained 
 a degree of restraint in her presence which kept con- 
 cealed many failings of Madame Emilie. Altogether 
 Nora had so far found her changed life very agreeable. 
 The constant going from city to city amused her and 
 prevented her feeling the absence of congenial com- 
 panionship, and the luxury with which she was sur- 
 rounded blinded her to her real social position. 
 
 Now for the first time since Nora's return from 
 school the family was settled down to domestic life. 
 Madame Emilie gladly abandoned all direction of the 
 household to her step-daughter, much preferring to 
 give herself up to unalloyed pleasure ; and Nora, who 
 inherited much of her father's executive ability, en- 
 tered into her duties with delight, and soon regulated 
 everything with good taste. The director was only 
 occasionally at home, his presence being required wher- 
 ever his circus was being exhibited. 
 
 Nora's happiness was complete when she became the 
 possessor of a beautiful horse, and this was the only 
 point on which she had not followed the advice of her 
 old friend, the Superior. Having, after dwelling on all 
 her father's love and generosity toward her, written of 
 her latest prize, the Mother Superior had replied with 
 strange earnestness, "Would it not be better, dear 
 child, that you should under the circumstances entirely
 
 72 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 abstain from this pleasure ?" For the first time the 
 young girl put aside a letter from her cherished instruc- 
 tress, and her pretty lips pouted impatiently, while a 
 big tear filled her eye. She was her father's daughter, 
 and the love for, as well as the wonderful dexterity in 
 managing horses in her extreme youth, now seemed to 
 return with redoubled force. Her good sense made 
 her see the reason of her friend's advice, but it is so 
 easy to find arguments in favor of carrying out what 
 we wish. She replied, " Oh, leave me this pleasure ; it 
 seems to bring me so near to my dear father." Nora 
 did not hear the deep sigh which followed the reading 
 of this letter, and the nun never again alluded to the 
 subject. 
 
 It was true that " it brought her so near to her dear 
 father." Karsten was never so much in love with his 
 daughter as when he saw her on horseback and proudly 
 recognized her equestrian talent. He could not repress 
 a slight regret when he remembered his promise to his 
 dead wife, but he never mentioned it. A new era 
 seemed to dawn on Nora's existence. What had mysti- 
 fied her seemed to have vanished, and a something for 
 which we have no name gave to her countenance an 
 undimmed brilliancy. Early on the day of which we 
 are writing she had ridden and managed her spirited 
 horse with artistic skill ; she had seen to all the cares 
 of her household, and when we saw her in her favorite 
 corner she held a pious book, for she was scrupulously 
 exact in following the advice of the convent to let noth- 
 ing interfere with her daily devotions. The bright May
 
 THE CIRCUS rider's DAUGHTER. 73 
 
 morning was not, however, conducive to study, and 
 every few minutes she raised her head and gazed on the 
 smiling landscape, while her hand toyed with the foliage 
 which peeped in at the window. Suddenly she turned 
 round as some one entered the boudoir^ and said cor- 
 dially, shutting up her book and advancing to meet 
 him, " I am so glad that you are come at last. Count 
 Degenthal. It is out of the question to apply one's 
 self this sunny day." 
 
 " Then I may enter," replied the newcomer ; " but, 
 pray, do not let me disturb you from your pet corner." 
 
 " You are right," she assented ; " there is no other 
 such nook for a genuine gossip." 
 
 " But why should the sunshine disturb you ?" the 
 young man asked, as he raised the discarded volume ; 
 and looking at it, added, " Miss Nora, you make one 
 feel ashamed to see you with such a serious work." 
 
 "It is necessary for me as a counteracting force. 
 The only thing I have to complain of is the total lack 
 of earnestness in my life. You are the only one who 
 speaks seriously to me." She said this with such an 
 innocent, frank look in her eyes, it quite touched the 
 young man. He replied : 
 
 " Seriousness and I are strangers. My life were lost 
 in amusement did not my college life claim some of my 
 attention ; but you have only just escaped from the 
 school-room. You complained of a want of something 
 to read, so I have brought you something appropriate 
 to this bright May morning." 
 
 " Have you brought me something to read ?" seizing
 
 74 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 the pretty gilt volume. " I have nothing but my 
 school books. But do you think that I can read this ?" 
 she asked timidly. 
 
 The young man did not smile at the frank question, 
 for he understood the fears with which her careful edu- 
 cation filled her soul, and the most brilliant repartee 
 would not have raised her in his estimation as did this 
 childlike scrupulousness. 
 
 " Even my mother would recommend this to you," 
 he replied. "It is a volume of extracts from our best 
 poets. I have already enjoyed some of them with you. 
 Do you not recollect this ?" He read well with a re- 
 markably sweet voice, and Nora was a good listener. 
 His choice was a melancholy theme. Youth seems to 
 love the sad as much as age seeks what is joyful, but 
 the deep meaning was fully appreciated by the poetic 
 nature which Nora inherited from her Irish mother. 
 Degenthal knew how to lay stress on the best parts, and 
 words and thoughts were woven in an imperceptible 
 web. As they sat together, their hearts responding to 
 a sympathetic appreciation, they little dreamed of the 
 power that was encircling them with a magic far subtler 
 than poet's words or May-time flowers. 
 
 First love is heaven's breath that binds soul to soul, 
 scarcely conscious of how the soft glance and the hand- 
 touch thrills. No later love, though, perhaps, truer, 
 deeper, and more lasting, leaves the same remem- 
 brance. 
 
 For several weeks Degenthal had found himself so 
 much at home in the director's villa that he was hardly
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 75 
 
 conscious of how much time he spent there. In tlie 
 first visit, which he made with Dahnow, Nora was so 
 governed by that shyness which a renewed friendship 
 often causes, that he had said with more or less disap- 
 pointment, " Well, this school-girl, with her hair in 
 Madonna bands low on her temples, is surely no siren. 
 She does not at all look like a poor, unprotected damsel 
 to be rescued from the fangs of a cruel step-mother. 
 Indeed, the little blonde rather seems to stand in awe 
 of her daughter than the reverse. In our rank-levelling 
 days,'' he continued to himself, "it is not worth while 
 to lose one's time with an awkward girl among circus 
 girls." 
 
 About this time Dahnow had gone home to his family. 
 Notwithstanding that Nora did not prove wtry piquante 
 at their first meeting, Degenthal could not divest him- 
 self of a certain interest with which their first acquaint- 
 ance and her strange story surrounded her, nor of a 
 feeling of responsibility when he thought of the mother's 
 death-bed. 
 
 Had the circus-rider's daughter been less pretty, we 
 will not undertake to say that this feeling of responsi- 
 bility would have weighed so heavily ; but he found her 
 not only adorned with all the beauty which nature 
 could bestow, but possessing all the graces which a 
 good education gives, and that ease which is so appro- 
 priately called "good style." Degenthal's early life 
 being passed essentially under female influence, made 
 him easy in woman's company, and the events of their 
 childhood's acquaintance could not help creating some-
 
 76 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 thing of a brotherly confidence in their present inter- 
 course. 
 
 Madame Emilie, flattered by the honor of having a 
 count on their visiting list, at first tried to intrude her- 
 self on them ; but Curt's whole manner was so different 
 to what she had been used to, that she soon preferred 
 to absent herself, and the young people were left to 
 enjoy the company of each other. The serious tone 
 which their intimacy took might have astonished lookers- 
 on, but, as we have already said, " youth seems to have 
 a fondness for what is sad." Both were of earnest 
 natures, and did not enjoy the superficialities of the 
 majority of the frequenters of the director's villa. 
 
 Nora's education made her view life from the same 
 standpoint as Curt, and the customs and manners of 
 which he spoke were those for which she was prepared. 
 That which recommended the man most to her was his 
 clear, firm faith, and the unostentatious manner in 
 which he acquitted himself of life's duties. Her deep, 
 religious training had impressed her with the conviction 
 that this alone could sustain one. Her step-mother had 
 belonged by turns to so many different sects that she 
 scarcely knew what she believed, and her father's mode 
 of life had long since obliterated from his mind any 
 pious sentiments left by the edifying example of his 
 first wife. Nora's fondest hope was that she might be 
 instrumental in leading him back and reawakening in 
 him these sentiments at some future time. It was 
 pleasant to confide this hope to Curt, and to find him 
 enter into her thoughts with a readiness which sprang
 
 THE CIRCUS RIDER S DAUGHTER. 77 
 
 from the long-cherished idea that he was destined to be 
 her protector. Often he wondered over her future, but 
 this was the one subject to which he never alluded. 
 Indeed, everything seemed so unreal to Curt that he 
 determined to enjoy the present to its full. He had 
 written to his mother the particulars of his meeting 
 with Nora, but she had treated it in her reply in such a 
 commonplace manner that he made no further mention 
 of his continued visits. 
 
 By degrees the number of visitors at the villa in- 
 creased. Nora knew too little of life to remark that 
 they were only gentlemen, and that for the most part 
 they belonged to the student class, which, however at- 
 tractive, is not always bound quite strictly by the ac- 
 cepted rules of exclusive society. 
 
 Madame Karsten was delighted to see herself sur- 
 rounded by worshippers and admirers who appreciated 
 her pretty toilets, nor was it disagreeable to the director 
 to find such pleasant society in his occasional visits to 
 his home. 
 
 Nora took no pleasure in the public entertainments 
 which were so much to her step-mother's taste. It is 
 quite true that she was strengthened in this indifference 
 by a look from Curt on one occasion, when there was 
 question in his presence of attending some exhibition. 
 She liked much better to join her young acquaintances 
 in excursions by land or water to many of the pictu- 
 resque spots in the neighborhood, and it became tacitly 
 understood that Curt should always be of the party. 
 He exercised a kind of brotherly protection over her.
 
 78 THE circus-rider's daughter. 
 
 and his presence seemed to give her a feeling of secu- 
 rity ; indeed, his respectful manner to her and to Ma- 
 dame Karsten impressed the other young men with a 
 like sentiment. 
 
 Weeks went by in this fashion, each visit bringing its 
 own pure, ingenuous pleasure. Toward the close of 
 the month of May it was proposed to make an excur- 
 sion to Rolandseck. Madame Emilie, her pretty hat 
 with its tiny red feather partly concealing her blond 
 locks, looked so pretty that she attracted general atten- 
 tion, and the young men were constantly by her side ; 
 her little nez retrousse SQ.e.vcie.6. to harmonize well with her 
 pert answers and gay laugh. Occasionally she ap- 
 proached rather near to the boundary line of good man- 
 ners, for dignity was not natural to her, and it was 
 somewhat of a relief to her when her daughter's quick 
 steps rather left her behind. 
 
 Nora walked fast, for she always had a fancy to enjoy 
 the first impression of a fine view undisturbed. She 
 and her inseparable companion soon stood by that 
 stone arch which commands a view of the rapid stream 
 and the peaceful island, the panorama of wood and hill, 
 city and village ; in a word, that indescribable mingling 
 of nature's charms and man's activity. Curt did not 
 seem as much impressed as usual with the landscape, 
 but rather gazed steadfastly on his companion, whose 
 eye was riveted with a strange expression to one spot, 
 apparently forgetful of everything else. Nora had re- 
 tained a great deal of the simple style of dress of her 
 school days ; simple, indeed, was the untrimmed trav-
 
 THE CIRCUS rider's DAUGHTER. 79 
 
 elling dress and the broad-brimmed hat which shaded 
 her face, as well as the close-cut bang, to which Baron 
 Dahnow objected so decidedly. She was pretty, but it 
 was as yet the beauty of maidenhood, yet undeveloped 
 like that of the unopened bud, which shrinks from 
 rather than attracts the eye. 
 
 Curt found something so strange and inexplicable in 
 her expression, that he looked steadfastly at the dreamy 
 profile which stood out in relief. Suddenly perceiving 
 a tear-drop fall from the long eyelashes, and silently 
 creep down her cheeks, he leaned forward and said 
 timidly, " Nora !" 
 
 She looked at him, her eye moist yet, but a smile on 
 her lip as she said, "True knight! True brotherly 
 love ! The poor knight of Toggenburg !" 
 
 Curt drew back ; the words disturbed him, and he 
 said, a little annoyed, "Why do you say that? Miss 
 Nora, have you thought of it .''" 
 
 " Thought of what?" she replied innocently. "On 
 the noble knight of Toggenburg ? No ; I only was re- 
 peating the passage which has been so often quoted on 
 this spot ; but let me tell you where my thoughts were. 
 The old cloister down there with its little cross awoke 
 longing memories of my dear convent." 
 
 " And did they remind you of the knight's cruel lady 
 love ?" 
 
 " Why cruel ? Is it so wonderful to love God so 
 much as to know no other love ? I have a friend 
 who does so. There can surely be nothing so beau- 
 tiful or so blessed," replied Nora, and out of her
 
 8o THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 eyes shone something like the longing which she men- 
 tioned. 
 
 This sentiment struck Curt as strange, and he replied 
 with a slightly ironical tone, " I believe you would be 
 capable of keeping a knight in similar suspense." 
 
 " Oh, the poor Toggenburger ! He was a little tedi- 
 ous with his eternal watching," she said, smiling. 
 " What did we read yesterday ? That there was some- 
 thing else to do in this life besides love-making." 
 
 " But if a man cannot overcome it ?" queried Curt. 
 
 " Man must understand," said Nora, with all that de- 
 cision and energy of youth that has never known what 
 obstacles mean, "that one must not strive for a heart 
 that belongs to God." 
 
 " But, Miss Nora !" remonstrated Curt, unable to 
 say more. 
 
 " It might have been better for me," she muttered to 
 herself, as an expression of weariness came over her face. 
 
 Just then the voices of the rest of the party were 
 heard, and Nora sprang to meet her step-mother at the 
 foot of the mountain, questioning her as to the cause 
 of the delay with all that easy grace which even as a 
 child she possessed. After the fatiguing walk every 
 one was glad to lie on the grass or to rest on the stones 
 of the old ruin. Maitrank was passed around, songs 
 were sung, bright maidens brought spring flowers and 
 ivy wreaths to deck the strangers' bonnets and button- 
 holes. From far down the river came the echoes of 
 music and gay voices, such as is heard in all its con- 
 tagion on the Rhine.
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 8l 
 
 Of all the gay party Curt alone remained silent. 
 Nora's words had awakened ideas and feelings of which 
 he could not rid himself. Could she be longing for the 
 convent ? Could this be her choice ? Was this the 
 cause of her peculiar ease of manner ? He had often 
 heard it said that it was generally the gayest-hearted 
 who entered convents. But why should such a decision 
 on her part affect him ? Would it not be, as she herself 
 had said, the happiest thing for her, the safest haven 
 from the world's storms ? 
 
 These thoughts disturbed him. What ! must this 
 lovely being shut herself up from the world because 
 there seemed to be no place suitable to her here ? Must 
 she be buried behind convent walls because there was 
 no place to claim her ? 
 
 Curt had been educated to hold the religious life in 
 high respect, but when it related to Nora, the only view , 
 he could take of it was as " high_walls and being buried '_ ^ ^ 
 alive," and the idea that she might choose it as a refuge 
 from her disagreeable position took possession of his^Cb^Tx 
 mind. 
 
 As they crossed the Rhine ferry she sat opposite him. 
 She had laid aside her hat ; her hands rested in her lap, 
 and her features had assumed that pensive expression 
 which is so often the accompaniment of evening twilight 
 and the monotonous motion of sailing. To Curt's im- 
 agination she seemed already a nun. It was like the 
 embodiment of his thoughts ; he saw nothing but 
 resignation and sacrifice in her features. His heart 
 shrank within him, and bending toward her, he
 
 82 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 whispered, " Do not go into a convent, Nora ; do not 
 
 go-" 
 
 Nora looked at him frightened and bewildered. In 
 every girl's heart there lies something which tells her 
 when she has it in her power to tease a man. She 
 looked at him, and with a smile said, "Why not? It 
 is surely the better part." 
 
 Curt was silent. He was half conscious that he had 
 done something stupid, and on the arrival of the ferry 
 was glad to get away by pleading a headache, which 
 was sustained by his former silence. But in his dreams 
 that night those thoughts with regard to Nora disturbed 
 him. He saw her behind barred windows, and felt, 
 without knowing how, that he alone could rescue her. 
 Perhaps he would have slept better had he known how 
 long Nora lay on her pillow with open eyes and burn- 
 ing cheeks, asking herself the question, " Why does he 
 not wish me to enter a convent .''"
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 83 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DAHNOW had just returned to Heidelberg after an 
 absence of three months. Looking around him, 
 at the little welcoming party which surrounded him, he 
 asked, " Where is Degenthal ?" 
 
 Amid a general shrugging of shoulders and many 
 meaning smiles a voice answered, " Oh, Degenthal has 
 something else to do ; he is rarely to be seen nowadays." 
 
 " Love, love ; thou art so sweet !" called out another 
 student, placing his hand dramatically over his heart. 
 
 " What does all this mean ? What have you all done 
 to Degenthal?" called out Dahnow, looking around 
 him impatiently. 
 
 " We have done nothing to him ; it is he who is so 
 occupied that he is rarely visible. Probably he is study- 
 ing the fine aits in the villa." 
 
 " Absurd !" broke in the Westphalian. " You are 
 worse than a set of gossiping old maids. Some of you 
 fellows were also pretty frequent visitors at the villa. 
 Can't one look at a pretty girl without setting everyone 
 talking ?" 
 
 " It depends on how often one looks. Degenthal 
 allows himself that pleasure without stint." 
 
 Now, that is an exaggeration, He has been on a 
 little trip up the Rhine, otherwise he would have been 
 here to see you, Dahnow, for he often speaks of you."
 
 84 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 Dahnow breathed easier. He had not heard from 
 Degenthal while he was away, and although a constant 
 correspondence is not necessary to male friendships, he 
 could not shake off a certain feeling of suspicion. He 
 did not dare ask any more questions, and left the 
 little company accompanied by one of the students, who 
 said to him, " Clement, you might speak to Degenthal. 
 Your parents were old friends. I did not want to say 
 so before the others, but I do not like to see him 
 spending so much time in that villa and leaving old 
 friends." 
 
 " What villa ?" asked Dahnow. 
 
 " Now, now, you know well ; the circus-rider's fam- 
 ily. That is no society for him, no matter how much 
 style they put on. The girl is pretty ; I have seen her 
 ride, but it would be a shame if Degenthal should com- 
 mit himself." 
 
 " Oh, is that all ?" said Dahnow. " He knew her 
 family long ago ; an accident introduced her into the 
 family of the countess. It is a case of childhood's 
 friendship." 
 
 " Childhood's friendship be hanged ! Put fire and 
 straw together, they will burn. Warn him ! Warn 
 him !" 
 
 " Have you visited the family ?" asked Dahnow. 
 
 " No ; some of our fellows go there. They are decent 
 enough people ; I have nothing to say against them or 
 the girl, but in our country people associate with their 
 equals, and it prevents much unpleasantness. Nothing 
 can come of Degenthal's intimacy but harm to the girl
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 85 
 
 or to him." It was seldom that the Westphalian spoke 
 so much, but now he was all excitement. 
 
 " Ah, nonsense ! You Westphalians seal yourselves 
 hermetically. Others do not presume to be so exclu- 
 sive," said Dahnow, affecting an indifference he did not 
 feel. 
 
 " So far we have had no reason to regret it. Do as 
 you will ; I have said my say." 
 
 " Well, well, we shall see. Degenthal knows what 
 he is doing," answered Dahnow, to satisfy his adviser. 
 
 The Westphalian shrugged his shoulders as he moved 
 away, leaving Dahnow not so unmoved as he pretended. 
 " I shall attend to the fellow," soliloquized he. " He 
 is the stuff to be guilty of such a stupid trick. He is 
 too good to be fast, and too sentimental to be prudent." 
 
 The " attending to him" was not so easy, for several 
 days passed without his seeing Degenthal. Every time 
 he called at his quarters he received the same answer. 
 
 Not at home." Dahnow tried to persuade himself 
 that his friend had come to his senses and gone for a 
 trip ; but he decided, nevertheless, to look for him at 
 the villa, where he considered he was privileged to call. 
 One afternoon he put his outer man in the best trim 
 and started to make his visit. 
 
 The lady of the house gave him a warm welcome, and 
 inquired most cordially of his home and his trip. Some 
 geographical errors he corrected politely, and ever 
 brought the quick-running tongue of his host back to 
 the desired point, but to all leading questions she seemed 
 reserved and gave no information. In vain Dahnow's
 
 86 THE circus-rider's daughter. 
 
 gray eyes wandered over the large drawing-room, until 
 they chanced to look through the bay-window into the 
 garden where he recognized two tall figures talking ear- 
 nestly together. The lady followed his gaze and said, 
 "Your friend is here, and will be glad to meet you. 
 What a serious man he is ! I run away from him and 
 my daughter when they have discussions. Shall we 
 call the learned pair," she asked, with a coquettish 
 air, " or shall we leave them to their discussion ?" 
 
 A further tete-a-tete with the amiable baron, who said 
 trifles so well, would have pleased her, but the latter 
 cleverly concealed the real object of his visit by express- 
 ing a wish to pay his respects to Miss Nora ; so the lady 
 hostess skipped to the window with simpering grace in 
 order to summon her step-daughter. 
 
 " Now you must become serious," she said, as she 
 looked at him with childish affectation. She seemed to 
 think that the naive style would please him. " Now, 
 sauve qui pent, I hope that we shall see you often," she 
 said poutingly, as she left the room. 
 
 There was more surprise than pleasure indicated in 
 Degenthal's countenance as he recognized his friend. 
 It was lost on Dahnow, for he was looking at Nora, who 
 greeted him in a most friendly manner, quite different 
 from the stiff, formal being on whom he had so sum- 
 marily passed sentence in their earlier acquaintance. 
 Her figure seemed more graceful ; couhl it be the effect 
 of her light summer dress ? Was it the arrangement of 
 her dark hair, which was drawn from her forehead and 
 fell in soft curls on her slender neck ? Each line and
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 87 
 
 fold evinced the truly womanly desire to please. Her 
 eyes shone so brightly, her lips smiled so sweetly, that 
 it seemed to Dahnow that he had never seen anything 
 so charming. 
 
 " You have come back sooner than you intended. I 
 could not fancy why we were ordered in," said Degen- 
 thal, as he laid his hand on his friend's shoulder. 
 
 " Sooner !" repeated Dahnow, and his eye, which 
 wandered from Nora to his friend, had a twinkle which, 
 notwithstanding his phlegmatic nature, would often 
 light up his face. " So soon ! The three months must 
 have passed delightfully to you, and you could not have 
 missed me much. Have you not received a pack of my 
 cards ? For the last week I have sought in vain to find 
 you at home." 
 
 " Indeed ?" said Degenthal absently. He seemed 
 to have eyes only for Nora, who had wandered into the 
 bay-window. " Yes ; I was away. I was busy, and 
 did not hear of your return." 
 
 " I have made the mortifying discovery that you can 
 live without hearing of me. Miss Nora, what witchery 
 did you use that my friend was so dumb ? Or was he 
 so studious that he deserted you .>" 
 
 " Oh, no ; Count Degenthal has been a true friend to 
 us," she replied. " He has been here nearly every day. 
 I hardly know how the days have passed." She seemed 
 suddenly conscious of Dahnow's sharp look, and blushed 
 slightly, adding, " The summer has flown in this pictu- 
 resque neighborhood like a dream." 
 
 " Why like a dream ?" broke in Degenthal abruptly.
 
 88 THE circus-rider's daughter. 
 
 " Because we are so soon to strike our tents, and then 
 it will all be so different." 
 
 There was something like complaint in the ring of 
 her voice. Degenthal looked inquiringly at her, and a 
 question seemed to hang on his lips. Dahnow began 
 to feel that he was in the way. 
 
 Suddenly Degenthal jumped up and said a little 
 rudely, " Well, you do not seem to have much to relate 
 of your trip. I cannot remain longer. Miss Nora, my 
 compliments to your mother. If I do not see you this 
 evening, I shall certainly to-morrow. Then you must 
 explain.' ' 
 
 For a moment her hand rested in his, and he said, 
 " You will not leave as soon as you seem to think. An 
 revoir !'" Dahnow was taken completely by surprise by 
 this hasty retreat. He intended to approach the sub- 
 ject near his heart on their walk home, but his friend 
 had disappeared. The description which he tried to 
 give Nora of his trip did not seem to be very interest- 
 ing, for her eyes were steadfastly turned from him and 
 fastened on the garden, through which Curt's elastic 
 figure was disappearing. Was it merely unintentionally 
 that she pressed the carnation which she had brought in 
 from the garden to her lips, as if she would swallow 
 every atom of perfume ? 
 
 Clement Dahnow had many thoughts, but the one 
 uppermost in his mind was the wish that he had been 
 the giver of the flower wliich was so affectionately 
 pressed to that pretty mouth. Two hours later he 
 walked up and down his room in a state of excitement.
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 89 
 
 He was a true North German, who reviews all those 
 weighty considerations under the cover of his own roof, 
 while the Southerner prefers to think them over in the 
 open air. His room was filled with comforts, another sign 
 of the Northerner, who even to student life brings some 
 of his characteristic love of home thrift. Heretofore he 
 had been in the habit of looking on all disturbing ques- 
 tions extended cosily on his sofa and through the smoke 
 of his Havana ; but to-day all his composure had left 
 him, and in spite of the late summer sultriness he was 
 excited, " something must be done !" he said to him- 
 self, " something must be done ! We must not allow 
 this young fellow to be so mad ! He cannot think of 
 marrying or of making the girl miserable. Something 
 must be done !" 
 
 The often-repeated " Something must be done !" 
 seemed to direct his steps toward the writing-table, as 
 if the " something" was to be found there. " I must 
 write to his mother. Friendship requires it. Perhaps 
 she may know what to do," he soliloquized as he sat 
 down. " When a man is brought up under petticoat 
 government, he easily becomes the victim of the first 
 tempter he meets." No sooner was this sentence ut- 
 tered than he repented of it as he thought of Nora's 
 charms. She, at least, did not come under that title. 
 "Surely," he continued, "she could make a philoso- 
 pher go mad ; but so much the more reason that Curt 
 should not make her miserable ; and his position for- 
 bids that he should marry her." 
 
 It is possible that Baron Dahnow's allusion. to " posL-
 
 90 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 tion" came from the idea he had always nursed, that he 
 was absolved from such a responsibility. He belonged 
 to an old family ; his parents died when he was young, 
 and he became owner of a large property. As the older 
 brothers had taken care of propagating their name 
 through suitable marriages, he felt he owed nothing to 
 his family, and could follow his own choice. 
 
 Strangely enough, such purposeless single men often 
 make the best marriages. Dahnow seemed at this 
 moment not to be troubled by his own love affairs, for 
 he rose from his reveries to active service for his friend. 
 His mother must know ; it was his conscientious duty 
 to tell her. She must call him home. Such dreamers 
 forget easily, but she would never forgive him as an old 
 friend were he not to warn her of what was passing. A 
 circus director's daughter ! That would be a tit-bit for 
 the proud countess. 
 
 Finally Baron Dahnow sat down before his writing- 
 table with a deep sigh. He held his pen irresolutely in 
 his hand some time before his thoughts seemed to come. 
 Then he wrote quickly, and having signed his name, he 
 threw the pen down with the words, "It is the devil's 
 own work, this tale-bearing, but when it is necessary it 
 must not be half done. It is better that those hopes, 
 which I gathered from the step-mother the young count 
 has been giving, sliould be nipped in the bud. The 
 husband, too, pleased me. He has the right to protect 
 his child from disappointment." 
 
 Dahnow seized anew his pen and wrote a second let- 
 ter, which seemed to be somewhat more difficult than
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 91 
 
 the first. As soon as it was finished, signed, and sealed, 
 he gave both to his groom, with a hurry foreign to his 
 nature, to dispatch. Then, drawing a long breath, he 
 threw himself into the easiest arm-chair, took a cigar, 
 and assured himself for the tenth time that he had acted 
 right ; and yet, to see him, one would not have sup- 
 posed it, he looked so unhappy. " Hang me if I don't 
 make the fellow confess to-morrow and listen to reason !" 
 was the last resolution come to by the honest Mecklen- 
 burger at the close of this annoying day's work. 
 
 It is not so easy, however, to carry out resolutions 
 which depend on another. " The fellow" did not come 
 when expected, and now that the letters were beyond 
 recall he was doubly anxious to try to influence his 
 friend. After some days he went up to Degenthal's 
 " booth," which was the student expression for room. 
 It was open, and he found him leaning against the 
 window, lost in thought, with his head between his 
 hands. 
 
 The latter turned round with a questioning look as he 
 heard the step, and threw himself on Dahnow's neck, 
 exclaiming, " You, my best friend, from whom I wish 
 to conceal nothing, are the first one to wish me joy. 
 Clement, she is mine. I possess her heart. She has 
 loved me since childhood. I am so happy now that 
 there is no more uncertainty, and that we understand 
 each other." 
 
 "What uncertainty? Understand who? Are you 
 mad ? Of whose love are you speaking ?" said Dahnow, 
 roughly releasing himself.
 
 92 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Yes ; mad from happiness !" answered Curt, his 
 eyes glowing. " Of whose love do I speak ? Well, 
 have you not suspected ? Have you remarked nothing ? 
 Of course, I speak of Nora. Have you ever seen a more 
 beautiful creature ? Do you know a more lovely, ami- 
 able being ? And she is mine !" 
 
 "Are you stark mad and blind that you do not see 
 what a senseless path you are entering?" blustered 
 Dahnow. " Must you be told to your face that you 
 have no right to win the love of a girl whom you can- 
 not marry ? You, the Count Degenthal, she a circus 
 director's daughter ! Have you taken leave of your 
 senses ?" 
 
 Degenthal drew himself away and said bitterly, " Can 
 you not leave me my little hour of happiness ? I know 
 all. I know what is coming. I did think that I might 
 have one day's bliss. It was only this morning we un- 
 derstood each other and spoke our thoughts, and 
 that the struggle was ended. Oh, it was a weary 
 time !" 
 
 "Time is the only remedy for such madness," mut- 
 tered Dahnow, as he took a seat. Degenthal did not 
 seem to hear him, but pushed back his chair as he 
 walked to the window, saying, " I did not believe it. 
 I feared she had another idea, witli whicli I would not 
 have dared interfere." 
 
 A sceptical smile passed over Dahnow's lips. 
 
 Degenthal continued, " Particularly when she seemed 
 so reserved and cold ; but she only feared to betray her 
 love." His face gleamed with pleasure as he continued,
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 93 
 
 " I feared to admit to myself that she had selected the 
 cloister, for I felt in my heart that she alone could sat- 
 isfy the cravings of my soul. Were it not for this I 
 would long since have declared my intentions and saved 
 her much unhappiness." 
 
 " I cannot understand," said Dahnow, " how you can 
 so easily alter your principles." 
 
 "Principles!" cried Degenthal. " There is one thing 
 stronger than principle. That is love ; and when it does 
 not lead us to evil, there is no need for any inconsis- 
 tency of principle. In my case there is a wonderful dis- 
 pensation. Nora as a child was in a measure brought 
 to me and placed in my arms when she was worse than 
 an orphan. Her mother gave me her dying blessing, 
 and from that moment I felt responsible for her daugh- 
 ter's fate. Her education was then decided on, and 
 was such as to lift her out of the circle in which she was 
 born. To-day she is the equal of any one. I have re- 
 flected on it all. Perhaps you took me for a scoundrel 
 who would win her love unworthily." He glared at his 
 friend angrily. 
 
 Dahnow remained silent a moment. He was taken 
 aback. All day he had been considering how he could 
 elicit his friend's secret, and now he had it, as it were, 
 thrown at him. All his counsels had been set aside. 
 Instead of warning against an impending danger, a 
 nameless something, he stood face to face with an ac- 
 complished fact, and instead of a frightened, wavering 
 penitent, Curt stood like one who had done the most 
 sensible and praiseworthy thing in the world. Dahnow
 
 94 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 did not know what more to advance, and merely said 
 laconically, " And your mother ?" 
 
 " Yes, my mother, that is the point ; it will be dread- 
 ful to her. On her account I struggled hard with my- 
 self. If it were only my own happiness, I could perhaps 
 be able to make the sacrifice, but Nora is to be consid- 
 ered ; her whole future is in question. Were my mother 
 to see her and know her, she would see that she is sepa- 
 rated from us only by accident, and that she is in all 
 things a daughter to her taste." 
 
 " But your mother had other plans for you which are 
 very important to your family." 
 
 " I allow no one to decide my future !" said Degen- 
 thal haughtily. " If my mother considers the difficul- 
 ties insurmountable, my younger brother can take the 
 property. His portion will be sufficient for me. Nora 
 is all to me." 
 
 " Curt, for Heaven's sake, think what you are doing !" 
 cried Dahnow. " Do not act under the impulse of your 
 enthusiasm. Listen to reason." 
 
 " I am not fanatical ; I am as cool as you, but say 
 your say, and I will thank you for it." 
 
 Curt seated himself opposite his friend. Dahnow, 
 who at least wished to do his duty, and had now recov- 
 ered his composure, said all that could be said and that 
 had been said a hundred times in similar cases. He 
 said it better than it is generally said, because he 
 spoke coolly and without exaggeration, with the con- 
 ciseness of truth ; but he spoke with the usual result, 
 when the strongest words fall as a drop of water
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 95 
 
 on a heated stone, fizzing for a moment, but not 
 cooling. 
 
 " I have considered everything, and will conquer all 
 obstacles," was the only and oft-repeated reply. 
 
 " But how will you manage with her father ?" asked 
 Dahnow. 
 
 " I have, of course, written to her father ; he must 
 have my letter by this. Do you suppose that Nora is 
 the girl to keep such a connection secret for an hour ?" 
 
 " All right," sighed Dahnow, pleased to think that 
 the director would be prepared. 
 
 " I shall write to my mother to-day and tell her every- 
 thing, only begging her not to come to any decision 
 until she sees Nora." 
 
 " She will not see her, or I do not know your lady 
 mother. But it is useless to argue with you," said 
 Dahnow, as he got up. " It is incomprehensible how a 
 man can build his whole future on the foundation of a 
 moment's enthusiasm." 
 
 " A moment's enthusiasm !" cried Degenthal. "You 
 call that which has been buried deep in my heart for 
 weeks and months, and which I believe so real and so 
 true that it cannot change, a moment's enthusiasm ? It 
 is the only thing which can brighten my future life. Such 
 moments are turning-points in our destiny. If there be 
 such another pair of eyes, old fellow, I tell thee to look 
 into them and see what such moments can accomplish." 
 
 With these words Curt laid his hand affectionately on 
 his friend's shoulder, and said, " Come, now, give me 
 one word of congratulation."
 
 96 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " I cannot congratulate you on your foolishness," re- 
 plied Dahnovv decidedly. " Clothe it as poetically as 
 you wish, do what you will, I can say nothing else." 
 
 Notwithstanding the severity of his words, he shook 
 his friend's hand, and with a warm pressure took leave 
 of him. Dahnow was young himself, and although he 
 called his friend's step folly and madness, he possessed 
 that same madness in his own soul which makes men 
 look on life through others' eyes. " If there be another 
 pair of eyes," Curt had said to him ; and the next day 
 he caught himself more than once thinking if he ever 
 had seen such loving, innocent eyes, set beneath such 
 graceful arches and lighting such clear-cut features. 
 The thought took such possession of him that night and 
 day, it followed him until he was on the point of saying 
 to Curt, " Lucky dog !" but he repressed the fascina- 
 tion, and said to himself, " Folly, folly ! I hope no 
 harm will come of it. I wash my hands of the whole 
 affair."
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 97 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CLEMENT DAHNOW loved his comfort, but, above 
 all, he liked his undisturbed mornings. The day 
 on which he was robbed of his usual sleep, his coffee, his 
 paper, and everything were failures. Degenthal's 
 scrape had interfered with his mental quiet, and now it 
 seemed to threaten his ease and comfort. A few days 
 after the conversation detailed in the last chapter 
 Degenthal stormed into his room in spite of the valet's 
 protestations. 
 
 Dahnow's first impulse was to renew his arguments 
 against the love affair, but a look at Degenthal silenced 
 him. His friend was deathly pale, and with painful ex- 
 citement held out a letter, so crumpled that it told its 
 own tale, saying, " Read that !" and strode up and 
 down the room. 
 
 It is the peculiarity of lovers to impose their troubles 
 on every one. It is comparatively easy to give the ex- 
 pected sympathy under the influence of romantic even- 
 ing walks or by the inspiration drawn from star-gazing ; 
 but the lover must indeed be exacting who expects 
 more than polite attention at seven o'clock in the morn- 
 ing, when you are still toying with your pillow, and the 
 glaring sun is making your eyes blink. 
 
 With rather discouraging coldness Dahnow read the 
 following letter, which bore Karsten's signature :
 
 pS THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " While I acknowledge with gratitude, Count, the 
 honor you do me in asking the hand of my daughter, 
 I am pained to be obliged to withhold my consent. I 
 do not for a moment doubt the sincerity of your desire 
 to promote my daughter's happiness, but your youth 
 deceives you. You could never obtain your family's 
 consent to this union, and, putting myself in their place, 
 I consider they are justified, for our positions are so 
 very different ; but, Count, neither can I consent to see 
 my child enter a family where she is not welcome or 
 form a connection which could be only a cause of dis 
 cord and misunderstanding, the bitter results of which 
 she would have to bear. In the excitement of your feel- 
 ings you have not weighed the importance of the step. 
 
 " My daughter recognizes the justice of my views. 
 I shall not reproach you with not having consulted me 
 before gaining her consent. We elders must not be too 
 exacting with young and loving hearts. I regret m}?^ 
 absence from home, as rumors of what has occurred 
 reached me too late. I must request you not to try to 
 change my daughter's decision, or to add to the pain 
 of the course she will pursue. We shall soon leave this 
 neighborhood. Do not try to find her new abode. You 
 will yet thank me for the pain which to-day I am causing. 
 
 " In fullest confidence in the sincerity of the honor of 
 your intentions, I have the honor to remain, 
 " Yours cordially, 
 
 " Karsten." 
 
 Dahnow was about to exclaim from the bottom of his 
 soul, " Sensible man !" but, raising his eyes from the
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 99 
 
 letter, he saw Degenthal standing before him with flash- 
 ing eyes. He was touched, but his silence did not 
 please the broken-hearted lover, who said : 
 
 " No doubt you find this very sensible ; quite in ac- 
 cord with your own ideas ; but you do not for a moment 
 think of the misery this horse-sense costs us. Oh, how 
 they must have tormented her before they persuaded 
 her !" He threw himself on a chair and covered his 
 face with his hands. 
 
 Dahnow walked up and down the room several times, 
 and then, laying his hand on his friend's shoulder as 
 sympathetically as possible, said, " Poor fellow !" In 
 his heart he felt much more inclined to sa}^ " Poor girl !" 
 Strange as it may seem, we often sympathize more 
 deeply with the love troubles of the other sex than with 
 those of our own. That longing look after Curt, in 
 which Nora's whole soul appeared to be sunken, came 
 back to his recollection. He could not quite under- 
 stand how she could feel so. Men find it hard to under- 
 stand the impression made by other men. But the hon- 
 est Mecklenburger acknowledged that his friend had 
 gained Nora's love, and his soul went out in pity to her, 
 
 " Now read this," said Curt, handing a second letter, 
 as he recognized the sympathetic tone of Dahnow's 
 voice. It contained the following short sentences, writ- 
 ten in a girl's hand : 
 
 " It was a beautiful, but unfortunate dream. Better 
 that we should part. Farewell. G(^d bless you. 
 
 " Nora."
 
 lOO THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Dahnow sighed as there came to him a feeling of 
 being to a certain extent responsible for all this. Both 
 friends remained silent, and the more he thought the 
 more convinced was Dahnow of the justice of his first 
 impression. " She is young ; some other love will con- 
 sole her." 
 
 " Old fellow," he said in measured tones, " although 
 for the moment it may seem very hard, her father is 
 right. It is easier to break off now than it would be later. ' ' 
 
 Degenthal rose hastily, exclaiming, " Do you believe 
 for a moment that I am going to consent to this ? Do 
 you suppose that such a thing as this," and he threw 
 Karsten's letter contemptuously away, " is going to 
 weaken my resolution ? I would find her if I have to 
 follow her to the North Pole. I know that she loves 
 me, and no one shall separate us." 
 
 Dahnow felt tempted to suggest that the winds in 
 that northern climate might be cooling, but his previous 
 remarks not having a happy effect, he refrained ; and 
 Degenthal went on, " I have tried every means to find 
 out her whereabouts, but can only learn that she left 
 yesterday morning early. Oh, that I had not promised 
 Nora not to see her again until we had heard from her 
 father ! Yesterday I called at the post-office and at the 
 telegraph station, thinking that Karsten might have 
 left his address. Now I am starting for the railway 
 'station. A man as well known as the director could not 
 leave without being noticed." 
 
 "You are out bright and early," muttered Dahnow, 
 still regretting his disturbed slumbers.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER - DAUGHTER. lOI 
 
 Degenthal paid no attention to his ill-humor, but 
 handed him a letter, saying, " I received this yesterday, 
 and must ask a favor of you. My mother writes that 
 she is coming here. I was too excited to understand 
 just the exact time, and besides I may have to leave at 
 once. Will you meet her at the station ? Read the 
 letter ; it will tell you when to expect her." 
 
 Dahnow read this third letter resignedly, and said, 
 " Your mother is not coming to remain ; she is merely 
 passing through on her way to Brussels to bring your 
 cousin home from school, and she expects you to meet 
 her at the station and to accompany her." 
 
 " That cannot be !" declared Degenthal. 
 
 " It will certainly wound your mother deeply to refuse 
 her request." 
 
 " Not at all," replied Degenthal. " She will have 
 received my letter by that time and will understand 
 matters." 
 
 " It is very questionable whether she will have re- 
 ceived your letter," replied Dahnow, although in his 
 heart he suspected that it was the reception of the letter 
 which caused the countess to propose this little trip for 
 her son. " Be that as it may, however, you surely 
 value your mother's good favor too much to give her 
 any unnecessary trouble. It is just as difficult to under- 
 stand this indifference to her feelings as it was your 
 childish dependence a short while ago." 
 
 Sound advice generally makes an impression, even 
 when we are most excited. Degenthal had to acknowl- 
 edge the truth of this remark, and although he muttered
 
 I02 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 something of "a more important affair," Dahnow fol- 
 lowed up his advantage by suggesting that a day sooner 
 or later could not matter. Karsten was not a man who 
 could disappear without leaving some trace of his des- 
 tination. He begged Curt to accede to his mother's 
 request, and to watch his opportunity on the trip to win 
 her confidence. 
 
 " Well, I shall see," muttered Curt. " At all events, 
 do you go to the station ; if possible, I will follow you. 
 I know I can count on you as my friend." 
 
 " Oh, Lord, if he but knew all !" thought Dahnow. 
 He then rang impatiently for his valet, plunged his head 
 into a basin of cold water, put on a luxurious dressing- 
 gown and fez, and seated himself to enjoy his coffee. 
 But there is no use fighting fate. The brown nectar 
 gave forth its aroma, the smoke of his Havana curled 
 in the air, the morning paper still lay unfolded, when 
 another guest knocked at the door, and would not be 
 refused. In the worst of tempers Dahnow threw off his 
 fez as the newcomer stood before him. He was a slight 
 man of middle age, whose long, black coat proclaimed 
 his clerical profession even before he announced himself 
 
 as " Chaplain L , former tutor of Count Degenthal. 
 
 My name is probably known to you," said the stranger, 
 " through Curt, as yours is to me. Baron Dahnow, 
 whom I recognize as the count's best friend." 
 
 Dahnow's countenance cleared. He had heard too 
 much of the good man not to welcome him cordially. 
 
 " No doubt you guess my business," continued the 
 clergyman, coming directly to the point, notwithstand-
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 103 
 
 ing the shadow which passed over the young man's 
 brow. " In the first place, I am charged to express the 
 warm thanks of the countess for the true friendship for 
 her and her son which your letter shows." 
 
 '* He would not thank me for it," answered Dahnow 
 sadly. " It is questionable whether it is right to meddle 
 in other people's affairs. Nine times out of ten you 
 make them worse." 
 
 "Well, how are things going?" asked the clergy- 
 man, without noticing this last remark. 
 
 " Good and bad, according to the view we take of 
 them," replied Dahnow. Telling what had happened 
 in the last hour, he added, " Of course at present he is 
 determined not to give the girl up. If the countess ex- 
 pects to influence her son by argument she is entirely 
 mistaken." 
 
 " Do you think this is a plot, as the country people 
 say, to catch the young count ? What is your opinion 
 of the young lady ?" inquired the chaplain. 
 
 " With such eyes as hers she has no need to plot to 
 catch," replied Dahnow angrily. " So much I can tell 
 you, sir ; and if I were fortunate enough to possess her, 
 the whole world could not induce me to give her up. 
 She is such a woman as a man loves only once in his 
 life. But you probably cannot understand this," added 
 he apologetically, with a pleasant smile, as he remem- 
 bered that he was addressing a stranger. Dahnow's 
 smile was very winning, and made you forget his gruff 
 moods. 
 
 "As a child she was pretty and unusually gifted,"
 
 I04 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 acquiesced the clergyman. " For her dead mother's 
 sake I take an interest in the child, and it would grieve 
 me to think that the course of education which I had 
 recommended resulted in making her an intriguante^ as 
 the countess has hinted." 
 
 " Who speaks of intrigue?" cried Dahnow. "Why 
 will women always be suspicious ? What more natural 
 than that a young man should fall in love with a re- 
 markably pretty girl ? Were it not for the undesirable 
 profession of her father, Curt might well be congratu- 
 lated. I can easily understand what a trial it is to the 
 countess, but I wash my hands of it." 
 
 The clergyman looked intently at Dahnow, and a 
 meaning smile played on his lips, as the young man 
 stood at the window with his hands buried in the pock- 
 ets of his Turkish dressing-gown. He merely said, 
 " I don't know that there is anything for us to do as 
 things now stand. The father has taken it into his own 
 hand, and it is better so. The countess hopes that 
 Curt will not only accompany her to Brussels, but to 
 his home, where other interests and different society 
 will distract him and make him forget the temporary 
 wound." 
 
 "Do you approve of this, sir?" inquired Dahnow 
 indignantly. " You must have a poor conception of 
 love." 
 
 " You yourself have just said that I probably cannot 
 xinderstand that," replied the clergyman, smiling. 
 " However, experience has taught me that people do 
 forget. It would be unfortunate if every youthful im-
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. I05 
 
 pression were ineffaceable. You yourself, baron, ex- 
 pressed something of this nature in your letter." 
 
 Dahnow stroked his beard, somewhat embarrassed to 
 find himself caught in his own net. 
 
 "The countess," continued the clergyman, "arrived 
 
 yesterday by the late train at C . This morning she 
 
 sent me here to make inquiries of you, which must be 
 my excuse for disturbing you so early. She wished to 
 get some information before noon, and I think I may 
 take her a reassuring message. She proposes to con- 
 tinue her journey to-day, and expects to meet her son 
 at the railway station." 
 
 " She had better not count too securely on it," said 
 Dahnow. " I did what I could to induce him, but in 
 his present frame of mind he is capable of anything. 
 But really, sir, you convicted me so clearly of incon- 
 sistency that you made me forget the pleasures of hos- 
 pitality. Your early start must have given you very 
 little time for refreshment. Allow me to offer you 
 some." 
 
 Dahnow prided himself on his private cellar and his 
 knowledge of good living. A sign to his valet brought 
 a most tempting little breakfast. 
 
 Here is to our onslaught on love," proposed Dah- 
 now, handing a glass of sherry to the chaplain. " Were 
 I not such a hardened heretic I might envy your calling, 
 which saves you from these troubles." 
 
 " I cannot drink to the onslaught," objected his 
 guest. " God knows, were there not such serious ob- 
 stacles I would not act as I am now doing. I am of
 
 io6 THE circus-rider's daughter. 
 
 your opinion that it is a bad thing to meddle with other 
 people's affairs. This poor girl had enough to contend 
 with in life without this. May God help her to bear 
 the trial." 
 
 " You are very good to say so," said Dahnow rever- 
 ently, and changing his tone, he added, " Bah ! women 
 forget easily and quickly find consolation. We are the 
 greatest sufferers." 
 
 In the afternoon he was at the station at the appointed 
 hour, and found Degenthal there with a small travel- 
 ling satchel. He approached Dahnow and said, " I 
 have decided to join my mother, but I shall be back the 
 day after to-morrow. Meet me here." 
 
 There were but a few minutes for an introduction to 
 the countess, and a cordial reception from her, when the 
 train started. 
 
 " A resolute face has the lady mother, not to be easily 
 mollified," soliloquized Dahnow on his return to his 
 quarters. " So much the better if the fair cousin prove 
 a charmer. Yet the fellow shows more will than I gave 
 him credit for. Poor Nora ! Poor Nora ! But, as the 
 chaplain says, it would be unfortunate if every youth- 
 ful impression were ineffaceable. I have delivered him 
 into the hands of his mother ; further I shall not inter- 
 fere, come what may."
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. I07 
 
 CHAPTER VIIT. 
 
 DELIVERED into her hands — with these words Dah- 
 novv had expressed the sum of the countess's wishes. 
 Like most women who have once obtained complete con- 
 trol, she attributed all subsequent mistakes to a diminu- 
 tion of that authority. At the suggestion of the chap- 
 lain, who recognized the young man's lack of decision 
 and self-confidence, Curt had been sent to Heidelberg. 
 The mother had consented very unwillingly, and now it 
 was a comfort to think that the trouble resulted from 
 not following her opinion. It was a hard blow that had 
 struck her. Hers was a nature guided solely by prin- 
 ciple ; her every action was ruled by it ; as we have al- 
 ready seen, a stern sense of duty had always been the 
 rule of her life. But in energetic natures, especially in 
 women, there lies danger in what they may consider to 
 come within the sphere of their duties, and how far they 
 try to extend it to others. For them there is but one 
 step to tyranny, if the heart does not lend its softening 
 influence. 
 
 Widowed early, the countess had displayed marked 
 ability and unselfish sacrifice in the management of her 
 affairs and the bringing up of her children. All her 
 affection was given to her eldest son, in whose more 
 tender nature she found a sort of completion. She had 
 complete control over him, and, like too many mothers.
 
 108 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 forgot that some time a stronger than filial feeling 
 would yield that same allegiance to another. To find 
 that at his first introduction into life he should prove 
 false to her principle lowered him in her estimation. 
 Her maternal vanity would not allow her to attribute 
 this to her want of influence, but rather to the freedom 
 of student life and to intrigue. She was convinced that 
 once in her hands he would be saved, and she consid- 
 ered the battle more than half won when she saw him 
 ready to accompany her on her proposed trip. Dahnow 
 was mistaken. She had just at the moment of depart- 
 ing received her son's letter, and considered his an- 
 nouncement as the climax of his blindness, and not to 
 be entertained for a moment. Accustomed to lose no 
 time in an undertaking, she determined to call her son 
 home. Taking her niece from school was merely an 
 excuse for the trip. In secret she hoped that the pres- 
 ence of a young girl would make home more agreeable 
 to Curt, and furnish her with an excuse to spend the 
 following season in the city. She was one of those who 
 think they can always see the desired success of their 
 plans, but she was clever enough to keep her own coun- 
 sel, and not a word of her hopes passed her lips on the 
 way. Tile pleasure she experienced at his consent to 
 accompany her prompted her to act very cordially to 
 Curt, who could not form the slightest idea of whether 
 she had received his letter or not. 
 
 She spoke much of the business matter, which was 
 the excuse she made for her desire to have him home, 
 hoping to arouse him from his evident depression.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. I09 
 
 Karsten's answer, of which the chaplain had told her, 
 she looked on as another move in the intrigue, which 
 she was satisfied she would find means to forestall. For 
 the moment her chief study was not to allow her son 
 out of her sight, for she flattered herself that she could 
 read his thoughts. On the morning of their arrival in 
 Brussels her first request was, therefore, that Curt 
 should accompany her to the convent to bring little 
 Lily home. Curt was not at all disposed to go, but 
 when a great sorrow is upon us it is easy to overlook 
 mere trifling trials. The thought ever present to him 
 was how to find Nora, and how to prove to her and her 
 father that he was determined to overcome all obstacles 
 to the accomplishment of their happiness. He could 
 come to no decision as to the plan of action, and as 
 Heidelberg had become so disagreeable to him, he was 
 indifferent about returning home and thence prosecut- 
 ing his search. The abode of Karsten could not possi- 
 bly remain a secret. 
 
 In order to avoid all unnecessary altercation, he ac- 
 companied his mother to the convent gate, intending to 
 leave her there, making the objection of nuns to male 
 visitors his excuse. The countess insisted, however, 
 on his coming in, as the Superior was an old friend of 
 hers and a distant relative, to whom she desired to in- 
 troduce him. They crossed the little courtyard, and 
 were received by the portress, who left them in the re- 
 ception-room while she went to announce them. Both 
 mother and son had too much on their hearts to enter 
 into conversation.
 
 no THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 The nun came in to say that the Superior would be 
 down in a few minutes. She was about to leave the 
 room when she was stopped at the door, and a soft voice 
 asked to see the Superior. "Wait here, miss," said 
 the portress ; " Mother will be down immediately. You 
 would miss her if you went upstairs. Walk into the 
 reception-room." 
 
 " I have merely a word to say to her," answered the 
 stranger ; " but there are visitors here ; I cannot wait." 
 
 At the first word Curt started, and in a moment two 
 pairs of eyes were fastened on each other. 
 
 "Nora! Nora!" he cried. "You should not be 
 here ; you have no right to be here ! I shall appeal to 
 all that is just in the world to prevent it. You are 
 mine ! You promised to be mine !" he cried excitedly. 
 
 At those words the countess stared in horror. On 
 the threshold she saw standing a beautiful girl, whose 
 hands were passionately clasped by her son. She saw 
 the girl trying to release herself, and then lean fainting 
 against the wall. Curt received her as she fell forward, 
 and he called out to the frightened Sister, " Go, call 
 the Superior ! Bring some restorative ! See, she has 
 fainted ! This young lady is \x\.y fiancee. I have a right 
 to care for her." 
 
 With these words he bore her in his arms to the sofa, 
 from which his mother instinctively rose. The Sister 
 left. This was an unusual scene for the convent, but 
 her woman's nature enlisted her sympathy for the 
 young couple. 
 
 Curt knelt by the sofa and called the unconscious
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. Ill 
 
 girl by endearing names. He kissed her hands passion- 
 ately, imploring her to tell him why she had left him. 
 She opened her eyes ; the faint had been the result 
 merely of the unexpected meeting. " Curt !" she said, 
 and all the love of her heart sounded in the word, but 
 immediately she sat up and drew herself away from his 
 embrace as her eyes fell on the cold, suspicious face of 
 his mother. 
 
 At the same moment Curt turned around and said, 
 " Mother, this is Nora. They tore her from me, but 
 you yourself have restored her to me. It was perhaps 
 hard for you to appreciate her at a distance, and now 
 God has granted that you should see her here, and 
 know how worthy she is of you. A letter from me is 
 on its way to you explaining all. Now we beg your 
 blessing." 
 
 " I received your letter," replied the countess in cold 
 tones, " containing folly unworthy of response." 
 
 " Mother," cried Curt, " understand that this folly is 
 the happiness of my life, and on it depends all that I wish 
 for. To attain it I am willing to resign everything." 
 
 " We have had enough of this," continued his mother. 
 " I do not approve of airing family affairs in the pres- 
 ence of strangers." 
 
 With these words she turned away to greet the Supe- 
 rior, who had just entered and viewed the excited trio 
 with astonishment. Nora sprang up and threw herself 
 into her arms. 
 
 '■ What is the matter, my child ?" asked the religious 
 kindly.
 
 112 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Curt answered, " Madam, this young lady cannot be 
 lawfully kept here, even at her own request. You have 
 no right to believe her words or to receive her vows. 
 She has been frightened and over-persuaded. This is 
 not her vocation. She herself assured me that her 
 heart belonged to me. Nora, you cannot deny it." 
 
 " Who says anything of keeping her, of vows, or of 
 vocation ?" asked the nun gently. " This young lady 
 came here with her father because she was at school 
 here for ten years. Her intention was to remain for a 
 few days, and to-morrow was fixed for her departure." 
 
 " No, Nora, you must not leave to-morrow ! You 
 cannot, surely, be untrue to me ! Cannot your love 
 bear the trial ? Is it so weak ?" cried the young man 
 importunately. 
 
 " Count," expostulated the religious, " as long as 
 this young lady is under my protection I cannot permit 
 this language. I know not the cause of your separa- 
 tion nor the obstacle to your reunion. That is a ques- 
 tion for her father and your family to settle. Nora, 
 dear, you had better go upstairs when you feel suffi- 
 ciently recovered." 
 
 Nora raised her head meekly, and turning to the 
 countess, said in a trembling, sweet voice, " Madam, 
 I could not have dreamed that our meeting again would 
 be so bitter, you were so inexpressibly good to my 
 dying mother. Do not be cruel to her daughter. It is 
 a terrible thing to cause such unhappiness." 
 
 The countess was so angry and embittered that she 
 hardly heard, but replied coldly, " You have woven
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. II3 
 
 your net so deftly around my son that he cares nothing 
 for his mother's feelings." 
 
 Nora drew herself up coldly, and said with a proud 
 self-possession, which impressed the haughty countess, 
 " He sought me. It is none of my planning that we 
 meet to day. He is free." 
 
 "Mother," pleaded Curt, "do not prevent our hap- 
 piness. I ask your consent to our union, but if you re- 
 fuse it, I shall follow my own decision. Nora, say but 
 one word," he continued as he approached the latter; 
 but the religious interfered, saying, " Speak to the 
 father of the young lady, or to her in his presence. 
 Here I cannot permit more. Mr. Karsten is staying at 
 the Hotel." 
 
 Curt looked earnestly at the speaker, and believing 
 that he recognized a sympathizer in her, said to her, 
 " Oh, if you are indeed the true friend that Nora so 
 often described to me, tell my mother how worthy she 
 is to be her daughter." 
 
 " She possesses all the graces of mind and body that 
 would grace such a position," said the Superior ; " but, 
 dear young friend, there are conditions with which it is 
 difficult to fight without regretting it sooner or later. It 
 might have been better for both had you not met again. ' ' 
 
 " But," insisted Curt, " it seems that God's provi- 
 dence has brought us together for the third time." 
 
 " We are very apt to call that which pleases us provi- 
 dential," replied the religious gently. 
 
 " I cannot remain here longer ; I wish a carriage 
 called," interrupted his mother.
 
 114 THE CIRCUS-RIDERS DAUGHTER, 
 
 The Superior was about to ring, but Curt himself 
 went to call a vehicle, and as soon as he had left the 
 room his mother sank on the sofa. 
 
 " Clotilde," said the religious, in the confiding tones 
 of their girlhood, " Clotilde, I feel for your trial, and 
 understand your disappointment, but be thankful that 
 your son has chosen no unworthy object for his affec- 
 tion. I have known her from childhood, and were it 
 not for the difference of station he could not have made 
 a better choice. I am as opposed as you can be to one 
 marrying out of his station, but are there no exceptions 
 to be made ? The feelings of two such characters as 
 Nora and your son are not fleeting passions. This is 
 the union of two pure, young hearts." 
 
 I never change my principles," said the countess, 
 " particularly with regard to a foolish fancy or a cun- 
 ning intrigue. This is duty." 
 
 " We are apt to call that duty which harmonizes with 
 our own feelings, forgetting what we owe to others. 
 Clotilde, do not be hard. You may lose a son instead 
 of gaining a daughter." 
 
 " Speak no more of it," replied the countess. " I 
 cannot allow any one to influence me. It is my desire 
 that Lily should hear nothing of the affair. To-morrow 
 I shall send the chaplain for her. I do not feel equal 
 to coming here again. Do not mention my visit to her." 
 
 The religious promised as requested just as Curt an- 
 nounced the carriage. As mother and son sat opposite 
 each other they remained silent. Arrived at the hotel, 
 Curt conducted her to the door and drove away.
 
 THE CIRCUS RIDER S DAUGHTER. IIS 
 
 " What order did my son give ?" asked the countess 
 of the porter. 
 
 " Hotel," replied the man, and she guessed 
 
 Curt's destination.
 
 Il6 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 AFTER the scene in the convent reception parlor 
 Nora was conducted to her old room, which, with 
 tender thoughtfulness, had been prepared for her. 
 Once more she sat on the low bench from which she 
 had so often looked longingly out on the life which 
 now presented so hard a scene to her wounded heart. 
 In a little time it had sent her the greatest height of joy 
 and depth of sorrow which can visit a young heart. 
 The longings of school days passed before her imagina- 
 tion, accompanied by a feeling of defrauded rights. 
 Strongest of all was the thought, " We have met again ! 
 we have met again ! He loves me ! I am all to him !" 
 and the tear-stained face was lighted up by a shy, happy 
 smile as she raised her little hand before her eyes, as 
 though she dared not look on the blissful vision. 
 
 In the little room the events of the last few days 
 passed in review before her thoughts. Hardly two 
 weeks had passed since Curt's misunderstanding of her 
 allusion to cloister life betrayed their true feelings to 
 each other, and the hopes and fears which had filled 
 each heart found expression and happy reassurance. 
 Oh, sweet is the moment when first love finds voice, and 
 heart goes out to meet heart ! Did they see no impedi- 
 ment to the realization of their hopes ? Oh, yes ; but 
 what are obstacles in such a moment but so many proofs
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. II7 
 
 of sincerity ? Curt saw only a mother's consent to 
 win. He was a free agent. At such times the head 
 may think, but the heart blinds. 
 
 Next came a second scene to Nora's recollection. 
 Her father's return home and his displeasure at the re- 
 sult of what he had looked on as a renewal of a childish 
 friendship. How differently he represented the obsta- 
 cles which she and Curt had looked on only as trifles ! 
 How deep the chasm between their social stations ! 
 How threatening the anger of his family, how complete 
 the destruction of his life's happiness ! She again 
 heard the sentence pronounced by her father, " They 
 will believe we laid unworthy schemes to secure the 
 match ; they will see your beauty set as a trap to en- 
 snare him, and a stepping-stone to attain high rank." 
 
 This argument was all-powerful with Nora. She 
 shrank with all her soul from the degrading thought. 
 She begged her father to write to Curt what a mis- 
 take they were about to make. With a firm hand she 
 added the concluding sentence. This done she turned 
 to her father and said piteously, " Father, take me far 
 from here ; the earth burns my feet ; let me see him no 
 more. Send me far, far from here, over the sea to the 
 land of my mother, that they may not think me an in- 
 triguer. " 
 
 The agony of his child was heartrending to Karsten, 
 and he bitterly reproached himself for not having been 
 more farseeing. He tried to soothe her wounded feel- 
 ings. In order to counteract any suspicion of Nora's 
 trying to capture the young count, he decided it best
 
 Il8 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 to leave the neighborhood immediately, and wisely 
 proposed a visit to her former instructress at the con- 
 vent, where she could calmly consider what course to 
 pursue:. The proposition was gladly accepted by Nora, 
 and she and her father lost no time in starting for Brus- 
 sels, leaving the care of breaking up the temporary 
 home to Madame Karsten. 
 
 The kind Mother Superior received her former charge 
 with cordiality, but grieved to see that the troubles 
 which she anticipated for her had come so soon. She 
 heartily approved of Nora's wish to visit her mother's 
 relatives, but the director could not be brought to view 
 the plan favorably, and this was the cause of the unex- 
 pected meeting of the young lovers. Perhaps a few 
 days would have saved Nora from Curt's influence, but 
 she viewed the coincidence differently. She was sin- 
 cere in sacrificing her personal feelings to his supposed 
 happiness, but this morning his words seemed a re- 
 proach to her. " Is your love so weak that it cannot 
 bear this trial?" Her sacrifice now looked like weak- 
 ness, disloyalty, and miserable pride. They had both 
 considered all the obstacles which her father had raised, 
 but they had all yielded to the pleadings of Curt's love. 
 Was it really conducive to his happiness to give him 
 up ? What love spoke from his every feature yester- 
 day ! She asked herself if she was willing to suffer 
 everything for his love, why not give him credit for 
 the same devotion ? 
 
 Her trembling hands again and again pressed her 
 poor, aching brow as she tried to decide what she should
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDERS DAUGHTER. II9 
 
 do." Give up her love, fly from him, or with him brave 
 all? 
 
 Who can say what would have been the outcome of 
 the struggle had not outside influence interfered ? 
 
 It was the same hour, and the sun's rays cast the 
 same shadows as on that day when Nora was called 
 from the contemplation of the far-off mountain-tops to 
 the Superior. She sat buried in thought, and when 
 summoned to dinner excused herself on the plea of a 
 severe headache, knowing that it would be impossible 
 to see her dear instructress before evening. 
 
 Again there was a knock at her door, and a letter was 
 handed in, which she took with much misgiving and a 
 beating heart. The handwriting was unknown to her, 
 but she recognized the count's crown on the seal, and 
 immediately knew that it came from Curt's mother. 
 The countess was one of those natures which find relief 
 only in action. As she sat in the comfortless hotel par- 
 lor, knowing well where her son had gone, she was 
 almost in despair. She was overbearing, and could not 
 brook seeing her plans interfered with in the least. 
 The long habit of being supreme and looked up to with- 
 out question had spoiled her. She wished to act with 
 judgment in the matter, and was puzzled what to de- 
 cide on as the next step. She was convinced of the 
 uselessness of advising her son ; the character which 
 the Superior had given Nora occurred to her, and she 
 asked herself whether one so well brought up, so in- 
 capable of deceit, so self-sacrificing would be willing to 
 enter a family where she would not be welcome ; or if.
 
 I20 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 on the contrary, she could not be induced to see bow 
 unfortunate this marriage would be for him whom she 
 apparently loved. She decided to write to Nora, ap- 
 pealing to her heart, her reason, and her pride. 
 
 With burning cheeks Nora read the letter. After 
 dwelling on the many objections to the union, it said, 
 " Do not rob me of my son. Do not come between him 
 and his mother, which will certainly be the case if he does 
 not obey me. Even if my influence be strong enough 
 to separate you, he would never forgive me. They say 
 you are great-hearted and noble-minded ; then re- 
 nounce this passion, which must encompass his misery. 
 We women are capable of sacrifice. Your word alone 
 can convince him of the chasm which lies between you, 
 and free him from the foolish engagement into which 
 he has entered. Surely the fact that I make this re- 
 quest is the best proof of the respect in which I hold 
 you, and my gratitude to you for granting it will be 
 unlimited." 
 
 The ending was cleverly put, but respect and grati- 
 tude weigh light in the balance against that which is 
 far dearer to the loving, trusting heart. How could 
 the countess speak of her own heart being robbed, and 
 yet think so lightly of asking this same sacrifice of an- 
 other ? 
 
 Nora read and re-read the letter without grasping its 
 meaning. Could it be that she had been nursing im- 
 possible hopes ? 
 
 Suddenly she sprang to her feet as the full import of 
 the countess's words dawned upon her. Could this
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 121 
 
 cold-hearted woman ask her to be the suicide of her 
 own happiness, and falsely to forswear her loyal love ? 
 All the strength of her father's nature arose in her as 
 she exclaimed, " It would be a lie ! it would be a lie ! 
 for my love is as slow as his to acknowledge any obsta- 
 cle insurmountable. I feel that I will not lower him. 
 Our thoughts and sympathies are the same. I do not 
 wish to influence his decision, but I will not be false to 
 my own love. He shall never say that I was weak or 
 false." 
 
 All former doubts disappeared ; with trembling lips 
 and glowing cheeks she seized her pen and wrote, 
 " Your son is free. My father was the first to refuse 
 his consent, and I am always obedient to him. No act 
 or word of mine shall ever influence your son. You 
 know that I fled from him ; but I cannot deny the love 
 which he sought, and which I shall ever acknowledge 
 and feel. I shall not part from him with an untruth, 
 for that has never mitigated a sorrow or healed a wound. 
 God's will be done. May He guide our footsteps. My 
 love is strong enough to bear and wait." 
 
 Nora sealed her letter, rang the bell, and sent it. 
 She stood a long time at the window, and the echoes of 
 her written words seemed wafted to her, sometimes in 
 earnest, sometimes in mocking tones. She tortured 
 her heart with the questions, Had she acted rightly ? 
 Was it her duty to end all this sweet love ? Must she 
 consent to the sacrifice ? These weary thoughts were 
 interrupted by the entrance of her true friend. Madame 
 Sybille was tired from the duties of the day, and some-
 
 122 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 what excited by the scene of the morning in the recep- 
 tion parlor. Such feelings had so long been strangers 
 to her that it was difficult to handle them. But there 
 are hearts that no seclusion can render callous to the 
 sorrows of others. Madame Sybille took the feverish 
 head of the young girl between her hands, looked gently 
 in her eyes, and listened lovingly to the storm which 
 poured from the wounded heart. 
 
 " Happily or unhappily, my child, earthly love is 
 neither a virtue nor a fault," the Superior said sooth- 
 ingly. " You have acted rightly. No one has a right 
 to ask this sacrifice of you. You have asked counsel 
 only of your own heart, and it has proved the best ad- 
 viser. But do not think, dear, that you are alone in 
 struggling for love ; the strongest and the weakest have 
 done the same. It is no supernatural thing, but one of 
 the sweetest flowers which God places in this weary, 
 earthly pilgrimage. Is this love strong enough to repay 
 you for all the suffering it has brought you, and under 
 the circumstances is sure to bring ? Who can say if the 
 sacrificing of it now might not save you many long years 
 of sorrow in after years ? Oh, yes ; I know love is 
 mighty. Who can say that our Lord has not sent this 
 trial in order to save you from a still greater ? For the 
 second time you have chosen strife instead of peace. 
 May God guide you, my child."
 
 THE CIRCUS RIDER S DAUGHTER. I23 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AS the countess read Nora's letter a smile passed 
 over her lips, and she murmured to herself, " I 
 thought so," perhaps denoting the influence which she 
 gave herself credit for exerting over others. She had 
 been alone for several hours, her son not having re- 
 turned home since morning, and the chaplain having, 
 at her own request, taken Lily from the convent to see 
 the sights of the city. She did not feel equal to the 
 task of entertaining her young niece, but she occupied 
 the hours with busy thoughts. Before the answer to 
 her letter she had determined on one other alternative 
 to keep the control of things. " One must allow chil- 
 dren their toys lest they become obstinate." After com- 
 ing to this conclusion the wrinkles on her forehead deep- 
 ened, and she busied herself with making notes on a 
 sheet of paper. 
 
 The chaplain and Lily appeared in time for supper. 
 The countess viewed the girl rather discontentedly, for 
 she had not improved in appearance since she had last 
 seen her. The small stature and the inexpressive fea- 
 tures, not much noticed in early childhood, had devel- 
 oped into an ungraceful figure and a dull appearance. 
 Her aunt turned from her impatiently ; here was an- 
 other blow to her plans. Unconsciously she thought 
 of Nora's tall, slight figure and speaking countenance,
 
 124 THE CIRCUS-RIDER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 and with a sigh resumed her notes. Curt came in as 
 they were sitting down to supper. He appeared heated 
 and tired, but less excited than in the morning. Al- 
 though he took his mother's hand and kissed it with 
 emotion, her reception of him was cold, and during the 
 meal the conversation was constrained. Curt often 
 sought his mother's eye, and seemed to await an oppor- 
 tunity of speaking to her, which she pointedly avoided, 
 retiring from the room as soon as supper was over and 
 summoning the chaplain. The young man scowled, 
 and all look of affection left his face. He stood motion- 
 less for a while as though contemplating following his 
 mother, but apparently changing his mind, he bade 
 Lily a short " Good-night," and went out. 
 
 This was a sad beginning of home life for poor Lily. 
 She had anticipated so much pleasure in meeting her 
 cousin, but he hardly noticed her. That something un- 
 pleasant had occurred between mother and son she was 
 persuaded, and with a certain esprit de corps she espoused 
 the side of her cousin. 
 
 Next morning a cab stopped at the Hotel, 
 
 from which the chaplain descended. He sent his card 
 to Director Karsten. The latter was busy writing, but 
 he rose hastily as soon as the priest was announced, 
 and going forward to meet him, whom he had not seen 
 for twelve years, stretched out his hand, remarking, as 
 he looked at his visitor, " Years have dealt lightly with 
 you," for the peaceful life he led gave the priest a more 
 youthful face than one might have had a right to ex- 
 pect. The two men shook hands cordially, and the
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. I25 
 
 director asked, " Do you come as an ambassador? This 
 unfortunate meeting has renewed a state of things which 
 I hoped was ended. Please say to the countess that 
 she cannot regret it more than I do. Perhaps I should 
 have been more careful and foreseen that this might 
 well be the result of the education which was selected 
 for my child. She will always be apt to consider herself 
 as belonging to that circle of society," he continued 
 with some bitterness ; " but I, for one, see an impass- 
 able barrier." 
 
 " I come as a mediator," said the chaplain. *' Has 
 Curt been to see you ?" 
 
 " Yes, several times, as I was not in at his first visits. 
 He renewed his proposal, and I repeated my answer. 
 The young man was very earnest in his pleading, and 
 I believe that both he and my daughter are equally sin- 
 cere ; it is painful to disapprove of such feelings. Nora 
 inherits all her mother's capacity for loving ; she will 
 be very unhappy. My only child !" 
 
 Karsten, after walking up and down the room ex- 
 citedly, stopped before the chaplain and said, " Pride 
 is a peculiar thing, and your calling makes you say it 
 must be conquered. I repeat, Nora is my only child, 
 and God knows what sacrifices I am ready to make for 
 her happiness. Do you believe that the countess would 
 consider a proposal ?" 
 
 " I am bearer of one," said the chaplain. " The 
 countess has considered the difficulty of swimming 
 against so strong a stream, and sends me to offer cer- 
 tain conditions to you and your daughter."
 
 126 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Speak on," answered Karsten, taking a seat, and 
 adding, as he laid down a recently written paper, " here 
 is my proposition." 
 
 " The countess will no longer withhold her consent if 
 the young couple have not changed their minds after 
 two years' consideration, holding no communication, 
 however, during the time, or at most merely in writ- 
 ing," repeated the priest in the tones of a studied mes- 
 sage. " During this period all that has passed must 
 remain a secret. If they observe these conditions faith- 
 fully the countess will be true to her promise to wel- 
 come Miss Nora as a daughter ; otherwise she will hold 
 herself free to act as she pleases." 
 
 The director listened attentively while he stroked his 
 long beard thoughtfully. When the chaplain ceased 
 speaking, he said, " The countess counts on the changes 
 which time often brings ; perhaps I am actuated by the 
 same motives when I accept her conditions. So be it. 
 The young people must submit to the trial, which is not 
 too severe in so serious a choice. Be kind enough to 
 tell the countess that I fully appreciate her hopes, and 
 heartily join in them." Suddenly he sprang from his 
 seat, and walking up and down, said, " But I shall de- 
 fend my child. I shall remove an obstacle which the 
 countess did not mention. I am fully aware of the for- 
 tune which Count Degenthal would lose in the event of 
 not marrying his cousin. This loss can be more than 
 compensated for by the circus-director's daughter. Say 
 to the countess that my daughter is in no need of hunt- 
 ing after a count. There, sir, is the amount of her
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 12'] 
 
 dower on the day of her marriage." He calmly showed 
 the recently written sheet of paper which had lain on 
 his desk. 
 
 The chaplain could not conceal his astonishment at 
 the sum, and Karsten, smiling at the expression on his 
 face, added bitterly : 
 
 " The much-despised business has not been so bad. 
 It more than quadrupled the small portion of my first 
 wife ; the half of it is Nora's fortune. The countess 
 can satisfy herself of the trustworthiness of my asser- 
 tions by applying to my bankers, and I hold myself in 
 readiness to give any desired information. Tell her 
 also, for I fully appreciate the fact, that there are chasms 
 which cannot be spanned by golden bridges ; tell her 
 my daughter can claim a different name to that which 
 I bear. She can take her grandfather's, one of the 
 proudest in France. I possess all the necessary docu- 
 ments to establish this. Nora can separate herself en- 
 tirely from me," he added in a trembling voice. 
 " Through love her mother left her parents. Nora shall 
 have the same privilege." 
 
 The expression which passed over Karsten's face in 
 uttering these last words brought back the man and 
 scenes of former years so forcibly, that the chaplain 
 seized his hands and said, " This noble act is worthy 
 of you ; Curt and his mother will know how to appre- 
 ciate it." 
 
 " What I do is hardly enough," replied Karsten, shak- 
 ing his head, "considering the high social position of 
 the count's family. The conventionalities of life must
 
 128 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 be respected, even though the individual may suffer. 
 Better had I followed my own judgment and been spared 
 this vexatious entanglement." 
 
 " Possibly to have fallen into a worse," added the 
 chaplain earnestly. " Her mother's anxiety was not 
 only for the temporal, but the eternal welfare of her 
 child." 
 
 " Yes, that is the pious view to take of it," said the 
 director lightly ; " but we worldly people judge by the 
 present. Had I had my way, Nora would now be 
 world-renowned in my adopted profession ; as it is, I 
 have to be humbled, and yet give up my daughter. 
 Such is life." 
 
 The chaplain did not answer this sad reproach, seeing 
 that Karsten's life had completely changed his ideas of 
 the value of birth ; but after a pause he asked kindly, 
 " Mr. Karsten, do you never think of retiring from this 
 wearing career and enjoying your large and well-earned 
 fortune ?" 
 
 Karsten smiled and answered, " Fortune ! Much is 
 needed, my friend. Who knows for how many I may 
 have to provide ? I am not meant to fold my hands. 
 Well, it suits me, you see. Now let us consider the 
 happiness of the young people. I have already lost too 
 much time, and must leave here to-day." 
 
 The chaplain rose, and the director parted from him 
 in the courtly manner which became him so well. Not- 
 withstanding the unselfish and manly way in which 
 Karsten had behaved throughout the whole affair, the 
 chaplain could not free himself from the disagreeable
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 129 
 
 impression that the man was slowly sinking into depths 
 which might at any moment engulf him. " No man," 
 he soliloquized, " can withdraw from the rank in which 
 he is born with impunity. May God grant the poor 
 child a safe haven in coming storms !" 
 
 Curt had an uneasy night. The evening's meeting 
 with his mother had awakened in him a spirit of resist- 
 ance. After his interview with Karsten he had deter- 
 mined to leave nothing undone to prove to his mother 
 that his love for Nora was no fleeting passion or light 
 fancy ; but if she would not be convinced, then he was 
 ready to sacrifice everything rather than his love. These 
 trying thoughts were at length followed by a deep sleep. 
 In youth sorrow provokes sleep, while in age even joy 
 banishes it. 
 
 The first news which greeted him on his awakening 
 was that his mother and cousin had left. He sought an 
 explanation from the chaplain, and each moment that 
 he waited only strengthened his resolutions. At length 
 the latter appeared and communicated the conditions 
 of his mother's consent. When we have been spending 
 all our exertions, mental and physical, to attain an ob- 
 ject or to overcome an obstacle, it is a shock to find that 
 it has all been accomplished independently of us. Curt 
 felt overpowered ; that for which he had in thought 
 strained every nerve was presented to him as a toy to 
 appease an exacting child who was expected co become 
 wear}' of it. He dared not refuse the conditions, for 
 this would evince a suspicion of his own constancy. 
 He could not, however, affect gratitude, notwithstand-
 
 130 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ing the encouraging words of his friend. His self- 
 esteem was wounded. When he went that evening to 
 exchange pledges of loyalty with Nora there were many 
 things which did not add to his comfort. In the hall 
 he found some rather peculiar-looking persons belong- 
 ing to the troupe. One in particular struck him un- 
 pleasantly as he heard him expressing to the director 
 his " pleasure at being taken into the company." The 
 penetrating eyes of this individual, which left no doubt 
 of his Jewish extraction, were fastened inquiringly on 
 the young count, as though he suspected him of look- 
 ing for a position, and only fell when the warm welcome 
 extended by the director to the newcomer put his sus- 
 picions at rest. 
 
 Karsten led him into the drawing-room, saying in a 
 somewhat apologetic tone, " Unfortunately unforeseen 
 business necessitates this. Even here I am obliged to 
 be busy, and am hunted to death with inquiries." 
 
 Curt bowed low, and for the first time felt disagree- 
 ably the position in life from which he was taking Nora. 
 The thought made him decide that during the two years 
 of their separation she must be removed from its influ- 
 ence. 
 
 At this moment the sweet face of his enchantress ap- 
 peared behind her father, and put to flight all these dark 
 thoughts, leaving uppermost the one that she was " his." 
 
 Nora saw only joy in tlie change things had taken, 
 and could hardly believe her father when he explained 
 it to her. Was it the effect of her own letter, express- 
 ing her determined constancy, or was it, as she loved to
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 13I 
 
 believe, that the heart of the countess was touched ? 
 The conditions seemed nothing to her ; she only saw 
 the happy result of their fulfilment, and could not un- 
 derstand why her father and Madame Sybille were not 
 more enthusiastic. What was a two years' trial ? With 
 smiling mouth and glowing eyes she said twenty were 
 nothing when a lifetime stood behind them. The happy 
 inexperience and the loyalty of true love banished time 
 in her heart. 
 
 Curt remained in the city three days — days which he 
 determined to steal from his term of banishment and 
 silence. In order to ensure the latter, he determined to 
 remain as short a time as possible in Heidelberg, alleging 
 the necessity of attending to his affairs and remaining 
 near his mother. His natural tenderness longed to re- 
 gain his old place in her heart and to win her. love for 
 Nora. What did he care what motives the world 
 ascribed to his change of plans, so long as he was sure 
 of his happiness ? 
 
 As far as Nora was concerned, his only thought was 
 how she could be saved from the surroundings of her 
 father's business ; but her filial love resented the thought 
 of separatmg her from him. The director himself pro- 
 posed the desired means. He had long wished for a 
 home, and the desire was stronger now that his wife 
 looked forward to new duties. He proposed to pur- 
 chase a villa, where Nora might pass the period of their 
 trial in the society of her step-mother, or with a suitable 
 companion when the latter preferred to accompany her 
 husband on his business tours.
 
 132 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 SOME time after the occurrences already related the 
 countess removed to the city. It was the first time 
 since her widowhood that she had left the seclusion of her 
 country estates, and the necessity of introducing her 
 young niece into society, as well as her son's determina- 
 tion to fit himself for a diplomatic career, was the ex- 
 cuse she gave for the move. The luorld^ as men call the 
 little circle in which they live, speculated on the change 
 according to its different points of view. 
 
 This world considered the niece rather young to be 
 introduced into society, and wondered seriously that 
 Curt should adopt a diplomatic career in preference to 
 the lighter duties of heir to a large property. Some 
 saw a clever stroke on the part of the mother to avoid 
 relinquishing the authority she enjoyed so thoroughly, 
 while others thought that they discovered on the part 
 of the son an attempt to escape from his mother's influ- 
 ence. The world, as is usually the case, was both right 
 and wrong. Under ordinary circumstances the countess 
 would have been the first to pronounce seventeen en 
 tirely too young for Lily to abandon her studies, and 
 would have kept her at least another year in seclusion. 
 Still less would she have desired to see her son give up 
 his position as landed proprietor to enter politics. She, 
 however, saw herself obliged to abandon her first prin-
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 133 
 
 ciples, for she was determined not to allow her son's in- 
 fatuation to continue, notwithstanding the magnificent 
 settlements promised by the director. She vowed to 
 leave nothing undone to prevent the marriage of her 
 son with the circus director's daughter. 
 
 The countess realized that the quiet of a country life 
 was not conducive to wean Curt's thoughts from his love, 
 particularly as Lily was so little calculated to interest 
 him. Abandoning all ideas in that direction, therefore, 
 she put her hopes in the influence of an active and am- 
 bitious life and intercourse with society. Attributing 
 Curt's fancy to his little knowledge of the world, she 
 promised herself that mingling with it would be his cure ; 
 hence she proposed a diplomatic career as necessitating 
 a residence in cities ; and in order to keep him under 
 her immediate supervision, she decided to introduce Lily. 
 
 To Curt it was not disagreeable to enter a career 
 which does not require too close attention, while it 
 gives a young man of means such good opportunities 
 to extend his circle of acquaintance. The one subject 
 which separated him from sympathy with his mother 
 made it irksome to be alone with her, and the narrow- 
 ness of a small neighborhood was tiresome. Ail things 
 contributed to make him wish to begin a life of more 
 intellectual activity. 
 
 The countess's salon soon held an enviable place in 
 society. The glamour of the apparent coming union of 
 the heir to an ancient name with a young heiress was 
 not wanting to increase the attraction, for it was cur- 
 rently believed that nothing would please the countess
 
 134 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 more than the marriage of Curt and Lily. This was al4 
 settled by the fertile brains of enterprising gossips, for 
 neither of the young people gave the slightest excuse 
 for linking their names together. Curt was perfectly 
 indifferent to his young cousin, and was as retiring in 
 his mother's drawing-room as good manners would 
 allow in the host. He seemed completely wrapped up 
 in his studies, and the female world had so little interest 
 for him, that not one of the belles could boast of an 
 unusual attention. 
 
 The countess was no doubt disappointed by the want 
 of success in her well-laid plans. At the close of the 
 carnival she gave a ball. Curt assisted his mother in 
 doing the honors with a grace which was natural to him, 
 but with that indifference that comes from a want of 
 natural love of society in itself and a pre-engaged mind. 
 
 " What a charming fellow your son is !" said an old 
 gentleman, who was held as an authority in the best 
 circles, to the countess — " well bred, handsome, and 
 clever — quite the pride of anj'^ mother's heart." 
 
 The countess gracefully acknowledged the tribute, 
 while at the same time a shadow passed over her coun- 
 tenance, giving the impression that there still remained 
 something to desire. 
 
 The look was noticed by the old cavalier, who never 
 lost an opportunity to learn something of other people's 
 secrets. "I have admired him," he continued, "and 
 have seldom seen a young man of such strict principles. 
 Indeed, he has entered so little into the pleasures of our 
 city, that it makes one a little anxious for the future.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 135 
 
 You know, dear lady, we must all sow our wild oats, 
 sooner or later." 
 
 " If that be so absolutely necessary, my son will cer- 
 tainly pay the penalty," she answered, with so much 
 bitterness that one might be tempted to believe that she 
 had had a sad experience. 
 
 The old gentleman's curiosity was still more excited. 
 What could she have to complain of in her son, of whom 
 even the most malignant had nothing evil to say ? Could 
 it be that he was not quite submissive to mamma with 
 regard to little gold-bird yonder? He looked at Curt, 
 and thought that he was indeed very cold-blooded to his 
 cousin, who was just then trying to converse with him. 
 After a few moments' pause the attack was renewed. 
 " We shall soon have to part with your son, according 
 to a secret confided to me. Our young ladies will be 
 inconsolable when he leaves without allowing one to 
 claim his attention." 
 
 " He is yet very young," answered the hostess. " But 
 since you are in the secret, pray tell me where is it pro- 
 posed to send my son." 
 
 " Diplomatic secrets," murmured his Excellency. 
 " Furthermore, I should hate to destroy the pleasure of 
 the evening for my fair hostess ; mammas do not love 
 long partings." 
 
 " Pray, tell me, if you know. They will not send 
 him northward ?" persisted the countess with visible 
 emotion. 
 
 " Quite in the opposite direction, dear lady ; to no 
 less a personage than his Turkish Majesty is he to be
 
 136 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 our representative. But every one knows how woman's 
 influence may alter decisions," he added in a whisper. 
 " Our attaches are not of such importance that the State 
 depends upon them." 
 
 " There is no good reason why Curt should not go to 
 Turkey," said his mother. "We mothers cannot ex- 
 pect to tie our sons to our apron-strings. Baron X , 
 
 the ambassador to Turkey, is an old friend of our fam- 
 ily. But, your Excellency, you are a dangerous man ; 
 you know all the State secrets," she added, with a sigh 
 of relief. 
 
 The old diplomat smiled, for he was one of those who 
 liked to have it thought that they still wield some influ- 
 ence in spite of advancing years. As the countess rose 
 to greet a new arrival he looked after her and mut- 
 tered, " A true Semiramis ! I would give a good deal 
 to know why she wants to send her oldest son away. It 
 would seem as if he were growing up too quickly. Oh, 
 woman, woman ! I shall see what there is to the timid 
 little maid." 
 
 By the " timid little maid" he meant Lily, who stood 
 near, looking rosy, embarrassed, and dull. She was a 
 favorite with elderly men, while to the younger ones 
 she was tiresome. Her reputed fortune and the advice 
 of prudent mothers brought her some admirers, how- 
 ever, who remained indifferent by her side, and for 
 whom she had blushes and smiles alike. Close observers 
 might have remarked that her eyes generally followed 
 her handsome cousin, who seemed entirely unconscious 
 of the attention. Generally he avoided her, and on this
 
 THE CIRCUS RIDER S DAUGHTER. 137 
 
 occasion abruptly left her in order to greet his friend 
 Dahnow, who had taken a trip to the city and received 
 a most pressing invitation from the countess to the ball. 
 
 " You are not very civil to your cousin," said our old 
 friend, as he found himself dragged unceremoniously 
 into an adjoining room. " You were dancing with her." 
 
 " Oh, relatives need not be ceremonious, and that 
 grand chain is very tiresome. Why did you delay com- 
 ing until the very end of the carnival ?" 
 
 " I merely wanted a little trip before beginning the 
 task of preparing for my examination. Your little 
 cousin may yet be quite pretty when she has grown ; 
 she has a pretty expression about the mouth." 
 
 " Has she ? It is possible ; but I do not admire her 
 style of beauty." 
 
 " But she admires you. Her look when you left her 
 so abruptly quite cut me to the heart." 
 
 " They have filled her head with stupid ideas that it 
 is hard for her now to rid herself of. Dahnow, I bear 
 about me a talisman. I did not write to you about it ; 
 but look here." With these words Curt drew forth a 
 medallion bearing the loveliest female head. 
 
 " Oh, how beautiful !" exclaimed Dahnow. " You 
 were so uncommunicative and left so precipitately, I 
 thought that affair was all over. You think, then, that 
 you will succeed ?" 
 
 " I have succeeded. There are, of course, some con- 
 ditions. My mother insists on a two years' secret en- 
 gagement. Have they got wind of it on the Rhine ?" 
 
 " Not much ; they thought your mother had pru-
 
 138 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 dently recalled you home, and as the director and his 
 family left soon after, the affair was quickly forgotten. 
 You know student love is proverbially fleeting." 
 
 ''Nous verrons,'" said Curt, stroking his beard and 
 gazing on the medallion. 
 
 Dahnow looked serious. " Do you know — " he be- 
 gan, and stopped suddenly. Then in an altered tone 
 he asked, " Where is she ?" 
 
 " At a villa near D , which her father has recently 
 
 bought," answered Curt. " She will reside there for 
 two years. I could not endure to have her with the 
 circus, and made this request." 
 
 "What are your plans in the mean time? I know 
 that you have devoted yourself to diplomacy. Do you 
 remain here for the present ?" 
 
 " My preparatory studies are completed ; I shall soon 
 be assigned to some embassy, and am in daily expecta- 
 tion of some news." 
 
 " Indeed," said Dahnow rather relieved. " See, my 
 friend, one of the servants seems waiting for you ; you 
 had better inquire what he wants." 
 
 " Oh," said Degenthal, looking at the waiter who 
 stood in the doorway, " it is supper-time. Old fellow, 
 I shall see that a cosey place is reserved for you. As 
 host I must devote myself to the stars of the first mag- 
 nitude, but I shall join you as soon as possible. Take 
 my little cousin in, as you are a stranger to the others." 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself about me ; I shall take care 
 of myself," muttered Dahnow, and it was very apparent 
 that he knew how to do so, for a few minutes later he
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 139 
 
 was by the side of the belle of the season in the midst 
 of the brightest group in the room, where his natural 
 wit added much to the general enjoyment. 
 
 " Oh, Count Degenthal !" cried out the beauty, cast- 
 ing her brilliant eyes on Curt — something, by the way, 
 she had done all winter, hoping to bring him to her 
 chariot wheels — " Count Degenthal, tell us what brings 
 your North German friend to our city just now when 
 we are about to forswear all vanity and cover our heads 
 with ashes." 
 
 " Simply because I am a heretic, gentle lady, who 
 knows nothing of pious practices. I am now very peni- 
 tent, for I have discovered what I have lost. Will you, 
 in your charity, give me a dance ?" 
 
 " Flatterer !" said Degenthal smiling. " Countess 
 Hedwig, punish him with several dances. I know he 
 believes in the Turkish doctrine that prefers to look at 
 dancing rather than work at it." 
 
 " I know what has brought Baron Dahnow," said one 
 of the young men. " His town sends us one of the 
 most renowned directors of the art where there is more 
 jumping than dancing. Do you know, ladies and gen- 
 tlemen, that' the renowned Karsten and his circus are 
 coming to help us to endure Lent ?" 
 
 All eyes being turned on Dahnow, no one noticed 
 how Degenthal shuddered. 
 
 " Baron Dahnow, you are actually blushing," cried 
 out the Countess Hedwig. "So these four footed 
 beauties are your guiding star ?" 
 
 Dahnow laughed a forced laugh and said, " Friend
 
 140 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Curt, you seem not to have much of an opinion of your 
 city since you are at a loss to account for one's visiting 
 it. Karslen was not with us this winter. He went 
 farther north." 
 
 " So 3^ou follow him here," called out one of the com- 
 pany. " Chi lo sa ! Perhaps the four-footed beauties 
 are not the attraction. You know they say Karsten has 
 a pretty daughter. Last winter she was all the rage on 
 the Rhine. I hope she will appear." 
 
 " Nora Karsten does not perform," said Lily in her 
 mild voice. " She has never appeared in public, and 
 never will." 
 
 Every one looked astonished at the little speaker. 
 
 "What do you know of her?" asked the Countess 
 Hedwig. 
 
 " I know her well and love her," answered Lily. " I 
 was \\\\.\\ her nearly a year at the convent where she 
 was educated. She was the prettiest and sweetest of 
 all the scholars, and particularly good to the new- 
 comers." 
 
 " That is rather a novelty — a circus-rider coming 
 from a convent." 
 
 " She is not a circus-rider," persisted Lily. " Her 
 mother would not allow her to be one, and so her father, 
 who is very rich, placed her in the convent. We did 
 not know that her father was a circus director. I found 
 it out later from our chaplain, who knew her." 
 
 " What is she like, and where does she live ?" in- 
 quired the Countess Hedwig. 
 
 " She is prettier than any one I know," replied Lily
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. I4I 
 
 vindictively. " I do not know where she lives, but I 
 suppose she is with her father. One thing I do know, 
 she could never do anything wrong ; she is too good 
 and too well bred." 
 
 The little defender was flushed with zeal. For the 
 first time a certain pair of eyes rested on her with in- 
 terest. Degenthal seemed to hang on every word she 
 uttered. For the first time he noticed the " pretty ex- 
 pression around her mouth" of which Dahnow had 
 spoken. A little while later he stood behind her chair 
 asking, " Cousin, are you engaged for the cotillion ? 
 May I have the pleasure ?" Lily blushed, her delighted 
 surprise allowing her merely to bow ; this surpassed 
 her wildest dreams. 
 
 As the famous " Sir Roger de Coverley" was closing 
 the evening's festivities, the countess doubted her own 
 sight when she saw her son and niece vis-a-vis. There 
 are moments when the dullest eye will sparkle, and now 
 Lily's seemed two seas of light as Curt gave her his un- 
 divided attention. The countess had not heard the 
 school reminiscences which had wrought the change, 
 and could not believe her senses. Had she heretofore 
 been blind ? Had the intimacy of domestic life pre- 
 vented her seeing how things had been maturing ? Had 
 she been too hasty in seeking diversion for his thoughts ? 
 What was she to do now ? These were questions which 
 the countess asked herself, and in her uncertainty she 
 sought the old diplomat, and with one of her most 
 gracious smiles asked, " May I take advantage of my 
 sex's privilege to be fickle ?"
 
 142 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " It would only make you appear more like the rest 
 of us poor mortals," answered the old gallant. 
 
 " Constantinople is so far ; the climate makes me un- 
 easy. Can you not, you all-powerful man, use your 
 influence and get certain appointments changed ?" 
 
 I am always at the service of the ladies," replied his 
 Excellency, with one of his most profound bows. " Bar- 
 on X can choose another of our young gentlemen." 
 
 At times the same train of thought seems to run 
 through various minds. At the moment that the diplo- 
 mat uttered the last words Curt was lost in contending 
 considerations. As long as Lily continued the allusions 
 to her school life she interested him, but now the fact 
 of Karsten's expected arrival troubled him, and for the 
 first time his mother's worldly wisdom received his 
 blessing. His thoughts also flew to his mother's old 
 friend, who, he hoped, could hasten his departure, for 
 he shrank from meeting the director under existing cir- 
 cumstances, and he determined to lose no time in mak- 
 ing inquiries concerning the probable day of the arrival 
 of the circus. 
 
 Early on the morning after the ball he rode out to the 
 place where circuses were always held, and found labor- 
 ers at work preparing for the expected exhibition. 
 There he met the dark-visaged man whose acquaintance 
 he had made in the rooms of the director in Brussels. 
 He seemed to be a kind of manager, and welcomed the 
 young man, whom he immediately recognized, and 
 whose connection with his chief caused him so much 
 curiosity.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. I43 
 
 Curt was very unfavorably impressed with this man, 
 who answered his inquiries by stating that Director 
 Karsten had come on with the advance guard of the 
 troupe, and was then lying quite ill at the most promi- 
 nent hotel, where he proposed to accompany Curt, and 
 was evidently much displeased with the coolness with 
 which his services were declined. 
 
 As Curt remounted his horse contending emotions 
 warred in his bosom. Not to go see the man to whom 
 he hoped to be so nearly related, and whose hospitality 
 he had so often enjoyed, he must acknowledge would 
 be despicable. Lily's talk of Nora had awakened 
 in his heart a longing to see her, or at least to 
 hear something of her. He determined to go im- 
 mediately to the hotel, but did not notice that he 
 was followed by the dark, Jewish-appearing individ- 
 ual. 
 
 Arrived at his destination, he inquired for Karsten, 
 and while waiting to be announced entered a room at 
 the window of which he remarked a woman standing. 
 Believing it to be Madame Karsten, he advanced. The 
 lady turned around, and with the exclamation, " Curt !" 
 two loving arms encircled him, and a loving head was 
 pressed to his heart. 
 
 In his response of " Nora ! Nora! you here!" there 
 sounded more astonishment and annoyance than pleas- 
 ure or affection. 
 
 His kiss must, indeed, have been cold, for she raised 
 her head and said, with bewilderment, " Are you not 
 glad to see me ? This is no breach of our promise, for
 
 144 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 it is the result of accident ; but I bless the Fates with all 
 my heart." 
 
 " Oh, wh)' are you here ?" he asked excitedly. " You 
 know how I hate to see you with the troupe, and how 
 I implored you to remain at the villa." 
 
 The poor girl appeared paralyzed by this reproach, 
 and sobbed, " My father was taken suddenly ill and 
 telegraphed for us." 
 
 "Was it not sufificient for his wife to come?" he 
 asked, with increasing excitement. 
 
 " Oh, Curt, you surely do not know what you are 
 saying," she replied in broken-hearted tones. " Is it 
 so disagreeable to you to see me ?" 
 
 " Not disagreeable," he answered, somewhat soft- 
 ened by the sad voice ; " but I must say that it is in- 
 expressibly imprudent for you to come here to our 
 home, where it would be so undesirable to have your 
 name connected with such surroundings. You know 
 how important my mother holds the conditions of our 
 marriage ; how can I observe them when I know you to 
 be so near ?" 
 
 " I will go away," she said gently. 
 
 " I myself am going on a long journe}^," replied Curt, 
 " and so far it is fortunate that I have an opportunity 
 of telling you that I shall be absent." 
 
 "You are going away? Oh, Curt, do not be so 
 coldly prudent," she said, as her blue eyes looked on 
 him with astonishment. 
 
 " It is better ; it is necessary," he replied, with that 
 determination which verv vounof men love to exhibit to
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 145 
 
 the women they love, perhaps with an idea of impress- 
 ing them with their superiority. "It is better that I 
 should be far away during the two years of our trial. 
 In a few days I am to go as attache to our minister at 
 Constantinople. It was a wise move of my mother's, 
 as I see clearer and clearer every day." 
 
 Nora remained silent, as if striving to understand the 
 meaning of his words ; then, once more throwing her 
 arms around him, she cried, " Curt, you wish that we 
 should be separated ; 3-ou wish to break our engage- 
 ment ! It is not sufficient that we should be separated ; 
 you also wish to put distance between us." 
 
 Curt drew her more closely to him, and pressing his 
 lips to her forehead, said, " True love knows no dis- 
 tance." 
 
 '^Yes, yes, it does know distance. As long as we 
 breathe the same native air there is a subtle sympathy, 
 and like customs unite us in a strong bond. Foreign 
 lands and foreign people are so many obstacles between 
 us. Curt, even the trees take on a different foliage in 
 foreign lands, and the heart is clothed in different 
 feelings. It was for this that your absence was plan- 
 ned." 
 
 " It was with my own free will," he said, stung by 
 the implied doubt of his independence. " I weighed 
 all the circumstances, and decided that the adopting of 
 this career would be conducive to our future happiness. 
 Have you such misgivings of your love ?" 
 
 " Of my love ? Oh, no ; for us women love is the 
 motive of our life ; for men it is but an accident. Tell
 
 146 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 your mother we shall carry out her conditions to the 
 letter ; but, oh, do not go away !" 
 
 He bent over her, stroked- back the dark hair from 
 her temples, and kissed the trembling lids, swollen by 
 the rising tears, saying, " Do not be childish, my Nora. 
 What are a few miles more or less ? Will the East rob 
 your slave of memory ?" 
 
 She was about to reply, when Curt suddenly stood up. 
 Following his eyes, she saw the dark man of the circus 
 standing at the door with a satirical smile upon his lips. 
 " The director wishes to see Miss Nora immediately," 
 he said and disappeared. 
 
 Curt bit his lips and asked, " Who is this forbidding- 
 looking man with the unmistakable countenance of a 
 spy ? Oh, I know how imprudent your coming was !" 
 
 " That is Landolfo, my father's principal. He is .dis- 
 agreeable to me because he assumes so much. My 
 father considers his services invaluable, and under the 
 circumstances we cannot always be too critical." 
 
 " /F«?.'" cried Curt impatiently. " Oh, Nora, do not 
 thus identify yourself with this horrid business." 
 
 " Curt," she answered, " you are determined to mis- 
 understand everything to-day. You certainly know 
 what I mean." She did not approach him, but drew 
 her pretty head up rather haughtily, saying, " I must 
 go to my father. Do you wish to see him ? He has 
 been very ill, and it was only yesterday that he began 
 to improve." 
 
 " It is better that I should not see him just now," said 
 Curt ; " I do not feel in a proper mood, and besides I
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 147 
 
 might again meet that man, who is so antagonistic. I 
 shall return in the course of the day. It is not our 
 fault that accident has brought us together. I shall be 
 able to give you further particulars with regard to my 
 appointment. My compliments to your father." 
 
 He was about to embrace her, but with a quiet dig- 
 nity she drew away, and her hand barely touched his as 
 she left the room. 
 
 Curt left the hotel displeased with himself, with Nora, 
 and with everything. The consciousness that a third 
 person was now in their secret, together with the 
 wounded feeling which Nora could not hide, added to 
 his general annoyance. He would, perhaps, have felt 
 even worse had he seen the burning tears that coursed 
 down Nora's cheeks as she sat by her father's sick-bed, 
 reviewing the scene just ended, or could he have seen 
 the malicious light which shone in Landolfo's piercing 
 eyes as he watched Curt descend the stairs. 
 
 " Ho, ho, pretty one," said Landolfo to the chamber- 
 maid, as he met her in the hall, " what is the name of 
 the gentleman who has just called on the director ?" 
 
 " There is his card," replied the maid ; " madam said 
 I was not to tell the young lady, but the gentleman was 
 already in the sitting-room." 
 
 " Indeed !" hissed the man between his teeth. " This 
 accounts for her ladyship's haughtiness. No one but a 
 count is good enough to pay her court. It would seem 
 that he has some trouble in reconciling his family to it." 
 
 That evening the countess found among her letters 
 one addressed in an unknown hand. It read :
 
 148 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " A true friend warns you that your son had a ren- 
 dezvous in one of the hotels this morning with Miss 
 Karsten, daughter of the circus director. If you wish 
 to nip the intrigue in the bud, it is high time to act. 
 It is intended to entrap him and to make the affair pub- 
 lic. This is the only means I have of putting you on 
 your guard." 
 
 This apparent ending to all her budding hopes was a 
 terrible blow to the countess. She now believed that 
 the change in her son's manner was merely a ruse to 
 blind her. She was incensed against him, and still 
 more so with those whose tool she believed him to be, 
 and repeated to herself again and again that she could 
 expect nothing better from that class of people. 
 
 Her inborn principles shrank from an anonymous cor- 
 respondence, but in this case it must be intrigue for 
 intrigue. She determined to save her son from this en- 
 tanglement, cost what it might. Her resolution was no 
 sooner taken than she dispatched a letter to her old 
 friend, the diplomat, smiling as she thought that he 
 would consider she had made rapid strides in the fickle- 
 ness on which he had complimented her yesterday. She 
 begged him to leave nothing undone to hasten her son's 
 departure, as each hour's delay was of importance. She 
 assigned no reason for the change in her ideas, but the 
 worldly-wise old man was at no loss to penetrate the 
 situation. 
 
 " Aha ! the young fox is giving tongue," communed 
 his Excellency, as his tapered fingers gracefully took a 
 pinch of snuff. " Who would have suspected him ?
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDERS DAUGHTER. 149 
 
 Still waters run deep, and his mamma is anxious to pro- 
 cure a change of air for him. She is a clever woman. 
 Well, we shall see what there is to do." 
 
 He was well aware that there was much in his power. 
 Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour his carriage 
 was ordered, and he drove to the door of his most influ- 
 ential friend. The countess should have nothing to 
 complain of. The following morning Curt received 
 peremptory orders to repair immediately to Pera, where 
 he would find all necessary instructions. He was not 
 surprised by the order, as he had been anticipating it, 
 and merely looked on the apparent hurry as a circum- 
 stance natural to the profession. Had he not been so 
 preoccupied he might have been a little hurt that his 
 mother took his coming absence so indifferently. Lily 
 was the only one who seemed disturbed. 
 
 There was no time for adieus or explanations. Be- 
 fore the close of the short winter day, and before he 
 himself clearly realized it, Curt was seated in the ex- 
 press train, which took him each minute farther and 
 farther from Nora.
 
 150 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 CURT had now been a month in his new position ; 
 its duties and surroundings gave him but little 
 time to dwell on the past. Indeed, he rather enjoyed 
 the varied interests of his public life after the domestic 
 anxieties from which he had suffered. Even the sin- 
 cerest love does not prevent men from growing weary 
 of petty contradictions. Curt had left home dissatis- 
 fied with himself and with Nora ; there was nothing in 
 their last meeting which gave him pleasure to remember. 
 
 A month passes quickly when we find ourselves in a 
 whirlpool of new acquaintances, new surroundings, and 
 new occupations ; but a month drags when we daily 
 look for some desired news or long for some proof of 
 love. This truth was forced upon Curt by the recep- 
 tion of a letter from Dahnow, which awakened him 
 from the quiet of his life. 
 
 " Think what j'ou wish of my interference," wrote 
 his fat friend, " but I cannot understand how you rec- 
 oncile it to yourself to make a young girl whose true 
 love you have won unhappy. It is not for me to pass 
 judgment on your hasty leaving, but I cannot help 
 thinking that tliere was one to whom you owed an ex- 
 planation. It is not necessary for me to name her, who 
 has waited patiently for weeks for a word of explana- 
 tion ; you ought to be able to understand the tenrier-
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 151 
 
 ness of her feelings better than I. That it was any 
 comfort for her to hear through me that you had arrived 
 safely at your destination and were well is very ques- 
 tionable. Perhaps it might have been more reassuring 
 to think that sickness had prevented your inexcusable 
 (pardon the word) conduct. It seems to me that your 
 mother's conditions sit very lightly upon you ; this is 
 not my idea of love's logic. To-morrow Karsten's wife 
 and daughter will leave the city, where they have been 
 detained by the sickness of the father. I shall also 
 leave to-morrow. If you care to write to me, my ad- 
 dress will be my old Mecklenburg home." 
 
 The letter certainly left nothing in the way of clear- 
 ness to be desired. Curt did not require any examina- 
 tion of conscience ; his guilt stared him in the face. 
 The repulse at their meeting, the frigid farewell, four 
 weeks of silence, which had seemed to him so short, too 
 — now all fell like a heavy weight upon his heart. The 
 words, " Do not go away ! Do you wish to leave me ?" 
 rang in his ears. His only answer had been a hasty 
 departure without a word of explanation. What, he 
 asked himself, was the reason for the great haste in 
 leaving ? It seemed as though a veil had fallen from 
 before his eyes, and he began to ask what influence had 
 brought about this sudden appointment. He now re- 
 membered that it came on the very day of his meeting 
 with his affianced ; he recalled his mother's look of re- 
 lief and her cold farewell ; he thought of the astonish- 
 ment with which his chief received him when he reported 
 at the embassy. Now everything seemed clear to him.
 
 152 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 Nora was right ; they determined to separate them, and 
 they had succeeded. His mother had planned every- 
 thing so cleverly and carried out her designs so effec- 
 tively that his suspicions had been completely disarmed. 
 His love and his self-esteem were equally wounded. 
 Did she believe that she could conquer by underhand 
 means the will she could not break ? 
 
 And Nora, Nora, whom he had so cruelly neglected, 
 how she must have suffered ! His self-accusation even 
 exaggerated those sufferings, for he knew nothing of 
 the excuses which the true woman heart makes for the 
 shortcomings of him whom she loves. Each day's ab- 
 sence now seemed like a month. Then came the thought 
 — Dahnow had been her comforter all the time ; Dah- 
 now had remained with her ; she must have complained 
 to him, for his letter spoke of her " tenderness." With 
 jealous torture he dwelt on the word. What could have 
 kept Dahnow so long in the city ? Could it be that he 
 came there to meet the Karstens ? Curt recalled his 
 embarrassment when joked with at the ball ; and now 
 he was going to leave with them. 
 
 Curt asked himself bitterly if every one was conspir- 
 ing against him, and he determined that, no matter 
 what the whole world thought, he would not be con- 
 quered, provided Nora's heart remained his. Now, 
 what was to be done ? He must give Nora some proof 
 that all attempts to separate them would be useless. 
 
 Should he write ? Written words were so cold, and a 
 letter may well fail to reach its destination when in- 
 trigue is at work. One spoken word would explain all,
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 153 
 
 a look would make reparation. He stamped his foot 
 impatiently, thinking of the distance between them. 
 
 What was it that made him spring from his seat with 
 an expression as if the battle were won ? He was young 
 and in love — two states which often matured the mad- 
 dest resolutions. He was jealous of his lov^e and of his 
 vanity — a twofold fire which drives many to rash acts. 
 Dahnow's letter gave place on his table to railroad 
 guides and time-tables. In our age distance hardly ex- 
 ists, and love and war know no laws. Such was the 
 logic to which Dahnow alluded. 
 
 Next morning Degenthal's servant took a note to the 
 head of the embassy, announcing that the young count 
 was ill and would be obliged to remain in bed, as the 
 phj'sician had prescribed absolute rest. 
 
 " There, there !" said the chief as he read the note ; 
 " we Germans are so stupid not to take precautions 
 against the heat. This young man was particularly 
 recommended to my care ; I must see after him." 
 
 A few days later the spring sun shone on the windows 
 of a small castle which looked out proudly between the 
 surrounding villas in the suburb of a city in Central 
 Germany. The guides lost no opportunity of telling 
 strangers that for some time it had been and was occu- 
 pied by a European celebrity, the circus director, Kar- 
 sten, who had given a large sum for it and the surround- 
 ing park. 
 
 The sun's rays, which were daily developing the foli- 
 age of the stately trees, rested lovingly on the head of 
 a young girl who had taken her seat on one of the bal-
 
 154 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 conies of the castle, seeming like a sweet flower con- 
 tributing its fresh beauty to the glorious spring. The 
 bright sun, however, found no reflection in her blue 
 eyes, which were cast down pensively and were sur- 
 rounded by dark circles. There was deep sadness be- 
 trayed in her drooping figure and in the listless hands 
 resting in her lap. The beauties of the surrounding 
 landscape and the pure air which rose from the green 
 valley had no power to distract her. To her every- 
 thing seemed enveloped in a mist, and yet she thought 
 of that spring, only a year gone by, when all seemed 
 joy and hope. Was it only on the banks of the Rhine 
 that the atmosphere she dreamed of was to be found, 
 or did the light she looked for come from sympathetic 
 glances rather than from the luminous god of day ' 
 
 Nora was at a loss to understand herself. She did 
 not like to acknowledge that she was hurt by Curt's 
 silence, and yet why did she watch each post ? She 
 did not wish to nourish mistrust, yet doubt was knock- 
 ing loudly at her heart. She wished to think of her 
 love, and experienced a burning, restless longing. Two 
 years' separation was the trial exacted, and she had 
 accepted it without a murmur. What were two years 
 compared to a lifetime of bliss ? she had said. Yet 
 hardly six months had elapsed since the edict had gone 
 forth, and already it seemed as if time was hollowing 
 out a chasm which yawned wider and wider each day, 
 until now it tlireatened to become impassable. She 
 had longed that some accident might interfere with the 
 cruel edict. Her wish was granted, the meeting was
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDERS DAUGHTER. 155 
 
 vouchsafed, but oh, what a sting of disappointment it 
 left ! Perhaps he was right, and that the going to a 
 foreign country would prevent the possibility of such 
 dangerous meetings ; perhaps so, but, oh, she wished 
 that he was not so coldly prudent. 
 
 The balmy spring breezes kissed her burning cheeks, 
 and, like the touch of a loving hand, brushed back her 
 waving hair, but now it seemed to her a mockery. Her 
 tears and sobs increased, her head sank lower, and her 
 very heart seemed ready to break. 
 
 Have her sobs deafened her to the sound of wheels 
 stopping at the gate, or her tears blinded her to the 
 figure hastening so rapidly from the carriage that the 
 driver, looking at his generous fee, laughingly says, 
 " I'll be hanged if he is not going to see his lady-love ; 
 they are always liberal" ? 
 
 While the wise driver was making his sage remarks 
 his passenger had taken a side path to the house. His 
 tired looks, dishevelled hair, and disordered clothes 
 told of a long night's travel, but his eye was clear and 
 seemed in search of something, until it rested on the 
 figure sitting above. With an exclamation of joy he 
 sprang up the stairs to the balcony. " Nora ! Nora !" 
 he cried, as he clasped her in his arms. For a moment 
 she could hardly believe her eyes ; then she clung to 
 him with all the earnestness born of loneliness and long- 
 ing. The clouds had cleared away, and true spring 
 hope and joy streamed into her heart. 
 
 Oh, love ! love ! The nun said thou wert not of 
 value at God's throne, but the highest goal of all
 
 156 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 earthly happiness, the sweetest of God's favors thou 
 art. 
 
 Question and answer and explanation followed in 
 quick succession. Surely she could not now accuse 
 him of being too prudent. Three days and two nights 
 had he travelled from the banks of the Bosporus to 
 spend at most six hours with her. How brightly her 
 eyes shone ! How she scolded and praised in the same 
 breath ! With what love she busied herself with a hun- 
 dred womanly cares and attentions ! How she mocked 
 at anxiety and courted hope ! 
 
 While the lovers enjoyed the height and depth of 
 their bliss, and all their misunderstandings vanished 
 like dust, they gave no thought to him to whom they 
 were indebted for the magic change. At length Degen- 
 thal confessed his jealousy of Dahnow, and Nora laughed 
 heartily. Oh, yes, she said, Baron Dahnow was very 
 kind, but indeed she did not know where he had gone. 
 
 Neither of them suspected the heroic resolution which 
 was the inspiration of the letter to Curt. 
 
 " Now we are quits," Dahnow said to himself as he 
 posted his letter. " My conscience is at ease. If he 
 does not return after reading this his love is not worth 
 having, but I cannot bear the sight of those sad eyes. 
 I interfered once before, I am interfering once again ; 
 now it is for the last time." 
 
 However, after our good Mecklenburger had sent his 
 letter and eased his conscience he was more thoughtful 
 than ever. " I must try travelling," he said to himself. 
 " I wonder whv it is that the fewer connections one has
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 157 
 
 the freer one feels. I believe all this studying is mak- 
 ing me cynical." 
 
 A short time after this self-communing, Baron Dah- 
 now astonished his relatives by announcing to them 
 that he was about to pursue his studies from human 
 rather than printed books. 
 
 " What, Fatty," said one of his brothers to him, " you 
 propose becoming a traveller, perhaps an African ex- 
 plorer ?" 
 
 " No, no," he replied ; "I prefer eating to being 
 eaten. However, I shall go outside the range of rail- 
 roads and hotels." 
 
 You, the laziest soul on the face of the earth, pro- 
 pose to travel in the wilderness, and perchance climb 
 the Himalayas ?" 
 
 " No ; I shall be borne up," said Dahnow laconically. 
 " I shall always take my comfort." 
 
 Curt returned to his post. Baron X , ambassador 
 
 to his Turkish Majesty, was in his private room at Pera 
 when his young attache announced himself as recov- 
 ered, and thanked his Excellency for his kind inquiries 
 after his health. 
 
 " Are you quite recovered ?" asked the ambassador, 
 looking at him with a very peculiar expression. 
 
 " Oh, quite well, quite well, sir," replied the young 
 man, with a beaming countenance. 
 
 " It seems to me that you look tired," continued the 
 other very dryly. " Your servant is a strict watcher ; 
 it was impossible to see you, although I called so often. 
 The doctor, too, was very discreet."
 
 158 THE CIRCUS rider's DAUGHTER^ 
 
 " The doctor !" blurted out Curt. 
 
 His Excellency stood up, laid his hand on Curt's 
 shoulder, and said sarcastically, " You are yet but a 
 poor diplomat, my dear ; your little plan is but a poorly 
 spun web. Your features betray j'ou. To which of 
 the health resorts does the Trieste Railroad lead ?" 
 
 Curt looked embarrassed, and after a few turns up 
 and down the room his superior said to him kindly, 
 " Young man, do not sully your youth by unworthy 
 connections." 
 
 Curt looked up bravely and said, " Your Excellency, 
 it was a question of the happiness of one whom I respect 
 as much as I love." 
 
 Baron X looked at him earnestly and said, " I 
 
 believe you. It was reported to me that you were in 
 very great danger of wrecking your life's happiness. 
 Your countenance reassures me that it is nothing un- 
 worthy of you ; but be careful of what you consider 
 life's happiness."
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 159 
 
 CHAPTER Xril. 
 
 ALTHOUGH the skies were continually clouded and 
 darkened with threatening rain, and although 
 great misfortune hung over her, Nora was now happy, 
 Curt's visit having chased away all forebodings and de- 
 spondency. The threatened misfortune, however, left 
 its marks on her father, whose manner and disposition 
 had changed most perceptibly since his illness. There 
 was a restlessness and irritability which had never been 
 known in him. Even the joy at the birth of a son, 
 which took place shortly after their return home, was 
 of short duration, although the expectation of the event 
 had given him such happy anticipation. 
 
 Nora had welcomed her little brother with a particu- 
 lar warmth, as she hoped that he would fill the place 
 which future connections would force her to leave 
 vacant. Her father's ill-humor she attributed to physi- 
 cal causes, and begged him to take more rest. He 
 grew daily more and more restless, making frequent 
 visits to the troupe, and on his return home was always 
 accompanied by Landolfo, who had become unbearable 
 to her, but with whom her father seemed to hold much 
 secret consultation. 
 
 " Signor Landolfo," as he loved to call himself, and 
 as he was announced in large letters on the bills, was 
 evidently a telling card. The smooth face, the clear-
 
 t6o the circus-rider's daughter. 
 
 cut profile, and the flowing locks never failed to please 
 the public. A close observer might shrink from the 
 bold, cunning expression of the black eyes and the 
 voluptuous upper lip, which the perfectly trimmed mus- 
 tache failed to conceal. His high-sounding name had 
 probably evolved from the more modest " Levi." One 
 might borrow Schiller's poetic figure to describe him, 
 
 " One hardly knew whence he came, 
 When he left scarce remained a name." 
 
 He had tempted fortune in the drama, in poetry, in art. 
 Once, completely out of funds, he joined an obscure 
 circus company, where his striking appearance and cool 
 assumption won him a certain popularity, and thus he 
 came to the notice of Karsten. His equestrian talent 
 was of the poorest, but Karsten soon recognized his 
 quickness in seizing effect and producing good theatri- 
 cal situations, and he was not the man to lose the ground 
 he once won. With that adaptability which seems to 
 be a Jewish inheritance, Landolfo knew how to humor 
 his employer, so that he gradually became the chief 
 manager of the business. The director, never liking 
 the minutiae of his business, was only too glad to find 
 one of quick perceptions and active habits to relieve 
 him of them. 
 
 Of late several business entanglements had occurred. 
 For many years Karsten was the acknowledged head of 
 his particular calling. He had reaped rich returns, so 
 that he could well afford to indulge his luxurious tastes. 
 During the winter a rival appeared, who left nothing un-
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. l6l 
 
 done to surpass Karsten in the introduction of novelties 
 which appealed to the exhibition-loving public. 
 
 Novelty always draws, and it was not long before 
 Karsten began to notice the falling off of his audiences 
 and the consequent diminution in the returns. Some 
 of his best performers were tempted by large salaries to 
 join the rival company, which wounded his professional 
 pride, and he determined to spare no expense in pro- 
 curing material to regain his lost ground. This natu- 
 rally cost large sums, and, coming suddenly, was like the 
 shock of an avalanche. He could not make any per- 
 ceptible changes in his domestic expenses without in- 
 juring his credit, and he felt seriously crippled by the 
 necessary paj^ments on the castle, bought when he con- 
 sidered himself a very rich man. 
 
 All these anxieties weighed heavily upon him during 
 the winter, and paved the way for his sickness. In ad- 
 dition to the trouble of competition in his own business 
 was added the bad investments of the banker on whom 
 he had always drawn for large sums. 
 
 On his present return to the villa he seemed tired, 
 and in order to conceal his own uneasiness he sent 
 Landolfo to the city to make inquiries into the affairs 
 of this banker. The sight of his new-born boy seemed 
 to afford him great happiness, but the presence of Nora 
 cast a cloud over his brow, for he could not forget that 
 the settlements he engaged to make on her marriage 
 would be difficult to meet. 
 
 One evening he was in the drawing-room, surrounded 
 by his family, when Landolfo entered. The director
 
 l62 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 rose hastily to meet him, whom he began to look on as 
 his only friend. He gradually began to receive Landolfo 
 as an equal, and on this particular evening his reception 
 was even more cordial than ever. Madame Karsten and 
 the manager were quite congenial. He belonged to 
 her own class, and her pretty face pleased him. She 
 treated him with marked amiability, as if to compensate 
 for the coldness of Nora, to whom the man was un- 
 speakably disagreeable, particularly since his meeting 
 with Curt in the city. 
 
 The director begged him to take a seat and join the 
 family circle, whereupon Nora rose and left the room, 
 at which Landolfo frowned and viciously bit his lips. 
 He was aware that she was the unacknowledged ob- 
 stacle between him and his employer, and she had 
 wounded his vanity. 
 
 Landolfo was not one to be indifferent to such beauty 
 as Nora's, and his growing intimacy with the director 
 filled him with the boldest aspirations. It occurred to 
 him that his personal appearance and his usefulness 
 would recommend his suit for the hand of his employer's 
 daughter. No other son-in-law could be so useful in 
 the management of the business as he. 
 
 He counted largely on his personal appearance, for 
 in the circles in which he lived he had always been a 
 flattered favorite. Nora's haughtiness he at first at- 
 tributed to her seclusion from any contact with the 
 troupe, and the discovery he made of her relation to 
 Count Degenthal appeared to him the explanation of 
 her antagonism to himself. Jealousy henceforth added
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 163 
 
 fire to his wounded vanity, and he determined to do 
 what he could to remove all obstacles to his ambition. 
 
 In accordance with his character, the first step was the 
 anonymous letter to the countess. In the beginning he 
 looked upon the affair as an ordinary flirtation, but 
 some chance words of the director and Nora's increased 
 haughtiness increased his desire for revenge. She must 
 be humbled, and the unfortunate developments in her 
 father's business promised to place the means in his 
 hands. 
 
 White with rage on seeing her about to leave the 
 room, he opened the door for her to pass out, and his 
 black eyes burned still more cruelly as she seemed 
 entirely unconscious of him. His resolution was 
 taken. 
 
 Karsten was annoyed at his daughter's action, and in 
 order to palliate it he rose and said, " Come into my 
 private room ; that is a better place to talk over busi- 
 ness affairs, which are disagreeable to ladies." 
 
 "They seem to have no love for business men, on 
 whom, however, so much of their happiness depends," 
 he replied, so loud that the words must have reached 
 Nora. 
 
 " I know some who appreciate them," simpered 
 Madame Karsten from her sofa, where she reclined very 
 gracefully. " Karsten, bring Signor Landolfo back, 
 and do not keep him all the evening," she added, hold- 
 ing out her hand, which Landolfo kissed gallantly. 
 
 Come, come !" called out the director impatiently, 
 leading the way to his office, which was on a lower
 
 164 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 floor. "Well, what news?" he asked before the door 
 was closed. 
 
 No sooner was Landolfo alone with the director than 
 his whole manner changed. He knew how necessary 
 he was, and all pretence of deference disappeared as he 
 coolly took a cigar from Karsten, and lighting it threw 
 himself into a large chair, while his employer walked 
 up and down the room uneasily. 
 
 " Here are some letters," he said, throwing a package 
 on the table. 
 
 " But the banker ?" asked Karsten excitedly. 
 
 " A severe loss at best. Two thirds at least must go, 
 if not more." 
 
 " What a blow !" cried the director. " What a terri- 
 ble loss ! I don't see how I can meet it. The troupe 
 is doing moderately well, but the expenses this winter 
 have been enormous." 
 
 Landolfo silently puffed curls of smoke into the 
 air. 
 
 " Two thirds lost — that means ruin !" muttered Kar- 
 sten. 
 
 " One good season would make it up," replied Lan- 
 dolfo quietly. 
 
 " But can I dig a good season out of the ground ?" 
 cried the director angrily. " That fellow will ruin me ; 
 he will leave nothing untried. One man cannot vie 
 with him ; the business must be turned into a stock 
 company. It is all a plan to rob me of my hard-earned 
 reputation ; but I shall not let them drive me from the 
 field."
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 165 
 
 " What reports do you get from the company ?" 
 asked Landolfo quietly. 
 
 The director shrugged his shoulders as he answered, 
 " The new clown is asking for higher wages ; he cannot 
 have them ; the treasurer is out of funds. This new 
 company has forestalled us in our tours through Cen- 
 tral Germany. It is fine equestrianism to exhibit trained 
 lions, is it not ?" 
 
 " I would do still better, and introduce abetter lion," 
 suggested Landolfo with a malicious smile. 
 
 The director did not seem to hear. He was occupied 
 with his letters, which had lain on the table. Suddenly 
 an oath escaped him. " What now !" he exclaimed as 
 he tore the paper he held in two. " Here is a pretty 
 row among the women. Miss Elisa, my first rider, gives 
 me notice." 
 
 " What does she say ?" asked Landolfo unconcernedly. 
 
 " Read for yourself, I do not understand her non- 
 sense." 
 
 Landolfo read the letter, and as he laid it down re- 
 marked, " I expected this." 
 
 " What did you expect ? what is the matter ?" asked 
 the director. 
 
 " Professional grievances ; Miss Nora did not return 
 her visit, which our beauty will not brook. Every one 
 is not so patient as I." 
 
 " Provoking !" growled the director ; " that girl will 
 ruin us with her foolish pride." He paced the room, 
 and facing his companion said, " What shall we do, 
 Landolfo ?"
 
 i66 THE circus-rider's daughter. 
 
 " Engage another ; Elisa is no longer a novelty." 
 
 " Engage another !" cried Karsten. " Where can we 
 find another to equal her ? and the sums these creatures 
 demand. Soon I shall not have a penny in my pocket. 
 It makes my hair stand on end when I think of the situ- 
 ation ; it is ruin. I cannot bear it !" 
 
 " I know no one better prepared for it than you," 
 calmly rejoined Landolfo, rising to shake off his cigar 
 ashes. 
 
 " Than I !" exclaimed Karsten, trying in vain to look 
 into Landolfo's averted face. 
 
 " What do you mean, Landolfo ? You are clever ; 
 have you some plan ?" 
 
 " Miss Nora," he said, as he kept his face turned 
 away, apparently occupied with his cigar — " Miss Nora 
 is the best rider I know. Elisa does not compare with 
 her. As for her beauty, it would attract the whole 
 world. Let Miss Nora appear, and the battle is won." 
 
 Karsten shrank back, and after some minutes said, in 
 a stifled voice, " My daughter has never ridden in 
 public." 
 
 Landolfo said nothing. 
 
 " Her mother did not wish it," he said, as if commun- 
 ing with himself. 
 
 " Circumstances alter cases," suggested Landolfo. 
 
 " She would never consent," said Karsten. 
 
 " Every one speaks of Miss Nora's piety. She surely 
 understands that it is a child's duty to save her father 
 from ruin." 
 
 Cold perspiration stood out on Karsten's forehead as
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 167 
 
 he said, " She has other duties. She is engaged, and 
 I have given my word to the count." 
 
 " Engaged, indeed !" continued Landolfo with a 
 mocking smile. " Possibly to the young Austrian. Has 
 it been officially announced ?" 
 
 " It is to remain a secret for two years," explained 
 the director. 
 
 " Such engagements ! — engaged between ourselves — 
 are understood," said Landolfo, with a meaning look 
 and shrug. " I suppose that is the reason the young 
 man went so hastily to the East. No doubt his mamma 
 managed that." 
 
 "Where is he gone?" asked Karsten, for Nora had 
 told him nothing of the appointment. 
 
 " As attache to the ambassador to Turkey. Change 
 of air was considered desirable for the young gentle- 
 man. Eastern lovers will teach him some lessons, my 
 fiiend," said Landolfo, placing his hand familiarly on 
 his employer's shoulder. " Let us understand each 
 other; this engagement means love, not marriage." 
 
 " I consider the count a man of honor," said Karsten, 
 as a red spot appeared on his cheek. Shrinking from 
 the familiarity of his manager, he proudly turned away. 
 
 " I also," said Landolfo unabashed ; " but he is 
 young, very young. Be just, director. From his stand- 
 point it would be madness, and madness is unstable. 
 Such is life where such madness is sweet. The young 
 couple have already had their misunderstandings." 
 
 " What do you know about them ?" asked the director 
 sternly.
 
 i68 THE circus-rider's daughter. 
 
 " A fortunate or unfortunate chance made me an un- 
 willing witness to a little love scene. Miss Nora, in 
 tears, became offended because the count reproached 
 her for being with the troupe. She then begged him 
 to give up the journey and the Turkish appointment. 
 The count's answer was to leave that very evening with- 
 out further leave-taking." 
 
 " I never heard of this," said Karsten, 
 
 " It would not be very pleasant for your daughter to 
 repeat it to you. Miss Nora is a clever young lady, and 
 as soon as she sees things clearly, she will know how to 
 act. She will understand," he added, in a drawling 
 
 m 
 
 tone, " that bankruptcy will not help matters, and that 
 the daughter of a ruined circus director will be less 
 acceptable than the daughter of a millionaire." 
 
 Karsten was stupefied ; these words brought back the 
 conversation he had had with the chaplain, his prom- 
 ised settlements, and now the consciousness that he 
 could not make his promise good. It occurred to him 
 that it would be unnatural for a daughter to refuse to 
 save her father's honor when she could. 
 
 " She will never do it !" he cried aloud. 
 
 " Strange idea of filial duty !" said Landolfo frigidly. 
 " Our people are despised, but they understand this 
 thing differently. Sleep over it. The morning will 
 help you to decide. The house has not yet begun to 
 burn over your head. We have three months' credit, 
 and at the worst — I repeat, Miss Nora cannot be so 
 unnatural as to refuse. Try her." 
 
 He lighted a fresh cigar, and seemed waiting for Kar-
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 169 
 
 sten's reply. None came, and the burning spot on his 
 cheek grew darker. Landolfo asked if he might retire, 
 and received only a nod as answer, and the director was 
 alone. His brain burned with the question, " Would 
 it be in nature for a child to refuse to save her father 
 from positive ruin ?" 
 
 The count ! The count! A silly love affair ended. 
 She would return to her natural station. He had kept 
 his promise to her mother with regard to her educa- 
 tion ; but circumstances alter cases, as Landolfo had 
 said. An idea seemed suddenly to strike him — he would 
 sell out the entire business and retire ; but he put it 
 aside. He could not allow his rival to feel that he had 
 conquered. " That would not console her, and would 
 give me but little help," he said. " She shall decide 
 for herself," he muttered. " I will explain everything 
 to her, and she must judge for herself. I will tell her 
 nothing, I will tell her nothing," he added ; and still 
 the words seemed to echo in his ear all night, "It is 
 not natural that a child should refuse to assist and save 
 her father !"
 
 lyo THE CIRCUS-RIDERS DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 'V T EXT morning Nora had her horse saddled in order 
 ■^ ^ to take her accustomed early ride. It was a 
 lovely day, and her spirited steed seemed to prance in 
 time to the beating of her heart. She was very happy, 
 thinking of the surprise Curt had given her just a month 
 ago. As she entered the court, which was separated 
 from the park by a low wall, she saw her father stand- 
 ing at the window of his study. She nodded to him, 
 and in order to give him pleasure, she encouraged her 
 horse to rear that she might bring him again to his feet. 
 She then put the beautiful animal through several tricks, 
 and again saluting, she jumped the wall and cantered 
 at full speed through the park. Her father looked with 
 delight at the complete mastery she displayed over the 
 fiery young animal, which she had chosen entirely un- 
 broken. As she galloped by he could not refrain from 
 admiring her. " He was right," Karsten said ; " her 
 wonderful beauty would attract the world. She would 
 be the pearl of the ring. She is my own daughter." 
 
 The graceful girl little suspected the thoughts she 
 evoked ; her only object was to distract her dear father 
 from the thoughts that had evidently been disturbing 
 him lately. What could it be that had annoyed him ? 
 But she could not dwell on dark thoughts to-day, 
 everything in the future looked so bright. The months
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 17I 
 
 would pass quickly, and then she would be Curt's. 
 How sweet it sounded ! She dwelt on every word he 
 had uttered. How handsome he looked ! and — oh joy 
 to a woman's heart — how tenderly devoted he was ! The 
 remembrance drove the blood to her cheeks, and her 
 hand quivered with each pulsation of her heart. Her 
 thoughts flew far, far into the future, when she would 
 be Curt's wife, and when for life she should bear his 
 name, which would give her the place and position from 
 which she was now shut out. Nora fully appreciated 
 the advantage of station, and never hesitated to acknowl- 
 edge it. All happiness has its chief spring in the heart, 
 but there flow into it many small tributary streams, and 
 the more there are of these, the more powerful is the 
 torrent. Hours pass quickly when one dreams beneath 
 the green trees of life and love. The sun was already 
 high when Nora turned her horse's head homeward, 
 and in order to shorten the way she determined to cross 
 a brook which ran at the end of the park, and was 
 crossed by a wooden bridge leading to the neighboring 
 city. The banks were slippery ; her horse stumbled 
 and would have fallen had there not been a steady hand 
 on the bridle. " What a dangerous place !" she said, 
 looking on the high banks, broken bridge, and deep 
 stream. 
 
 Arrived at home, she found that the family had left 
 the breakfast-room. Her step-mother and the baby 
 were in the garden, so she descended to her father's 
 room to wish him good morning. She stopped at the 
 door as she saw the director sitting with his head rest-
 
 172 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ing on his hand, the picture of despair. An open paper 
 was beside him, and a telegram had fallen to the 
 ground. With the quick instinct of love she connected 
 all this with his changed manner and evident uneasi- 
 ness. In an instant she was kneeling beside him, in- 
 quiring with the most affectionate words the cause of 
 his trouble. She had always been devotedly fond of 
 her father, and now a feeling of compunction was mixed 
 with her love, for she was conscious that she had allowed 
 the new love to take the first place. She was now very 
 tender, and her father enjoyed the caresses of his child ; 
 but in vain she begged him to tell her his trouble. At 
 such times how fluently words flow from the lips, and 
 how easy it is to promise any sacrifice that might lighten 
 the burden ! The director raised his head and looked 
 into the earnest eyes of his daughter. Was it his better 
 self dictating his words, abrupt as they were, " Go, 
 you belong to another. You no longer belong to your 
 father, and cannot help him"? 
 
 His daughter's eyes filled with tears, for she thought 
 her father had some reason for the reproach, and all 
 the more she tried to convince him of her love. She 
 spoke fondly, and tried to discover the cause of his 
 trouble in the telegram ; but the cipher was an enigma 
 to her. She concluded that it must be a question of 
 pecuniary anxiety, and begged him to tell her all ; that 
 she had strength to bear it. 
 
 The telegraphic dispatch was from Landolfo, and an- 
 nounced increasing complications, which would leave 
 even less than the percentage he mentioned yesterday.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 173 
 
 Karsten saw clearly that this would ruin him, and he 
 was in that state of mind when a man will grasp any- 
 thing that promises relief. 
 
 He looked longingly at his daughter, and said, " If 
 any one can help me, it is you." 
 
 " I !" she repeated, and at the same moment, remem- 
 bering her mother's fortune, which was settled on her, 
 she continued, " Father, do you allude to mother's por- 
 tion ? Oh, how can you doubt ! Take everything be- 
 longing to me. What is mine is yours." 
 
 "That cannot help me," he said; "it is already 
 gone." 
 
 She looked at him in a bewildered way. Had he 
 really taken what rightfully belonged to her, and was 
 that what was preying upon his conscience ? But youth 
 is generous, and Nora was more than usually so ; she 
 embraced him still more affectionately, and said, " Do 
 not allow that to trouble you, darling father ; use the 
 money as you wish, only tell me how I can help you." 
 
 The director rose as if a weight had been removed, 
 and said, " Now you cannot be his ; it is better so." 
 
 Nora shrank back, gasping, " What do you mean, 
 father ? Do you refer to Curt ? Do you mean that I 
 cannot be his because I am poor ? Oh, he has not 
 given that a thought." 
 
 " I had intended," replied her father, " to have built 
 a golden bridge which could lead you to those people 
 for whom your heart longs so unwisely. I offered to 
 sunder every tie which bound you to me in order that 
 you might attain the happiness for which you longed,
 
 174 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 and all against my better judgment ; but now the bridge 
 is broken, the chasm has grown impassable. You are 
 not only the circus-rider's daughter, but the daughter 
 of a swindler and liar, according to their ideas." 
 
 " Father, of what are you thinking ? Your anxieties 
 have over-excited you. Curt is just, and will judge 
 with justice. Believe me, he loves me sufficiently to be 
 indifferent to mere money." 
 
 " Mere money !" he repeated scornfully. " He can- 
 not live without it ; that is certain. Beside the anger 
 of his family and the social disturbance that a marriage 
 with you will bring into his life, you wish to deprive 
 him of the means of living ! A pretty love, that demands 
 such sacrifices." 
 
 Nora rose to her feet, pressing her hand to her heart 
 as if to still a sudden pain. The director also arose, 
 and the more excited he grew the louder he screamed, 
 " For what is your mad passion waiting? Must he 
 break the engagement and throw back the yoke you 
 impose upon him ? Is it not enough for him to show 
 you that he thinks no distance too great to separate 
 you ? Is it not enough for you to see that his family 
 look on you as a contamination ? Do you propose to 
 use your father's ruin as an appeal for the granting of 
 his favor ?" 
 
 Nora was not dismayed by this wild outburst. She 
 lifted her head and said proudly, " It is only four weeks 
 since Curt came here from the far East to reassure me 
 of his unchangeable love. I believe in him." 
 
 " Indeed ; so he steals here to tell you of a love which
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDERS DAUGHTER. 175 
 
 he is ashamed to acknowledge in public ! And this 
 you call love ! This satisfies you ! This is the pride 
 your exclusive education has taught you ! The lowest 
 one of my troupe would not submit to such an insult. 
 You listen merely to passion, and are indifferent to all 
 else !" 
 
 " Oh, father, father !" pleaded the wounded child, 
 " why are you so cruel ? Only tell me in what way I 
 can be of use to you, and you will not find me indiffer- 
 ent. I would be the last to bind Curt if I thought it 
 would make him unhappy. Tell me what I can do for 
 you." 
 
 The director walked up and down the room, and then 
 said, " I shall see what your words are worth." Facing 
 her, he thundered forth, " Be your father's daughter!" 
 
 Nora was speechless, and he continued : 
 
 " Save him from ruin. By appearing in public you 
 can do this. You have talent which will enchain the 
 public. In a few months I will regain what I have lost." 
 
 Nora looked at him blankly, as if listening to a foreign 
 language. 
 
 " You are mistress of the art," he continued. " You 
 will be a new and fresh element which the world will 
 admire. You have inherited my talent ; nature intended 
 you for this career. Beauty and cleverness slept in your 
 cradle. You will outshine all, as was prophesied in 
 your childhood." 
 
 Light seemed suddenly to dawn upon her. She cov- 
 ered her face with her hands and cried in a piercing 
 voice, " Never, never ; it cannot be !"
 
 176 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " ] thought SO," he said, turning away ; " your idea 
 of devotion does not include sacrifice." 
 
 "Father," she cried, " anything but that! I will 
 work for you, suffer with you, abandon all for you — 
 anything, everything but that." 
 
 " Everything but the one thing that will help," 
 he said, rudely pushing her from him. " You have but 
 idle words to offer. Go, bury yourself in your pride, 
 and leave your father to his fate." 
 
 " But, father, I have other talents. I will seek a 
 position, and all my earnings shall be yours." 
 
 " The few thalers your position will earn can do won- 
 ders !" he repeated with a sneer. " Spare me your 
 fine words." 
 
 " Father, think of my mother." 
 
 " Your mother would never have failed me in my 
 necessity. She hesitated at no sacrifice," he said, soften- 
 ing a little. " She abandoned all in order to go with 
 me, notwithstanding my position, for which you have 
 such contempt. Is her wish, expressed under entirely 
 different circumstances, more to you than your father's 
 disgrace ?" 
 
 Nora sank to the ground in utter wretchedness, and 
 yet all she could say was, " Sooner die ! Sooner 
 die !" 
 
 " Even if I should beg you ?" asked her father wildly, 
 laying his hand on her head. " Understand well, with- 
 out this help I am ruined !" 
 
 " Rather die ! Rather die !" were the only words
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 177 
 
 that came from the blanched lips of the suffering 
 girl. 
 
 " Yes, rather die than humble your pride !" hissed 
 Karsten in a choked, hoarse voice, as he turned and left 
 the room.
 
 178 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 NORA was unconscious of being alone. With her 
 hands pressed to her face she remained lying on 
 the floor, overwhelmed by the proposition she had just 
 heard. She tried to go over what her father had said, 
 but it was all a mystery. The only clear thought re- 
 maining was that she must be proof against all persua- 
 sion and argument. No power on earth must induce 
 her to lower herself to such a degree. 
 
 She felt bitter at the thought that her father could 
 make such a request. How could he think of it ? Who 
 could have given him such advice ? Instinctively she 
 thought of Landolfo. But she resolved not to lose 
 time in thinking of this ; her only care now must be 
 how to help, how to overcome existing evils. Sorely 
 she felt the want of counsel, and her woman's heart 
 turned to the man she loved. 
 
 Surely this was a time when the urgency of the case 
 would excuse their overstepping the imposed condi- 
 tions. A resolution to write to him brought her some 
 comfort. As she arose to go to her own room, she heard 
 some one calling her. She slipped quietly through a 
 side door, for she felt it impossible to meet strange 
 eyes, and gained her room unseen. 
 
 She seated herself at her writing-desk, but the first 
 words brought back the scene with her father so forci-
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDERS DAUGHTER. 179 
 
 biy that she laid her pen aside. There was a knock at 
 her door, and before she could reach it Landolfo en- 
 tered, saying hastily, " Miss Nora, are you here ? Where 
 is your father ?" 
 
 Nora received the intruder coldly, but he appeared 
 not to notice it, and there was genuine agitation in his 
 voice as he continued, " Where is your father ? I know 
 that he was with you, for he had matters of the first 
 importance to discuss with you. Have you eased his 
 mind ? How did he appear when he left you ?" 
 
 Nora looked at him as if in a dream, and merely shook 
 her head. 
 
 "Oh, is that the way you sent your father away ?" 
 he asked scornfully. "Very filial, indeed! You do 
 not seem to understand what a man may do on the 
 brink of ruin. Once more, Miss Nora, where is the 
 director?" he asked, stamping his foot impatiently as 
 she continued to look at him vacantly. 
 
 Nora was deathly pale, and put her hand to her head 
 as if to collect her thoughts. " I do not know. What 
 do you mean ?" she gasped. " He went into the garden 
 after our conversation ; let us seek him there." 
 
 "Into the garden! Did he go alone?" inquired 
 Landolfo, in a harsh voice. " Madame Karsten imag- 
 ined you were together, and did not like to disturb you. 
 We did not suppose that a daughter would leave her 
 father in his distress. You are to blame for the conse- 
 quences," he added remorselessly. 
 
 " Leave her father alone !" The words struck her to 
 the heart. She had thought only of her own misery.
 
 i8o THE circus-rider's daughter. 
 
 " We must look for him immediately," she said, and, 
 filled with horror, she stretched out her hand to Lan- 
 dolfo, saying, " Come with me to find him." 
 
 "You are entirely to blame for the consequences," 
 reiterated the man. She did not hear him, for she was 
 flying down the steps to the garden. Her step-mother 
 stopped her to ask where her father had been all the 
 morning. Nora had no time to stand talking. " He 
 must be in the garden, or perhaps has gone to the city !" 
 she called out, running so quickly that Landolfo could 
 scarcely keep pace with her. Every minute was pre- 
 cious. She heard only the echo of the words, " You 
 are to blame for the consequences !" Good God ! She 
 understood all now. Before her startled eyes stood the 
 phantom evoked by the words he " could not bear ruin" 
 spoken by her father. His last words were a repetition 
 of her own, " Rather die ! Rather die !" Oh, God, 
 what more ! 
 
 Like a hunted deer she ran along the winding paths, 
 calling her father. Unconsciously she directed her 
 steps to a spot which seemed burned into her brain. 
 That slippery bank, the broken bridge, the tangled un- 
 dergrowth, the deep stream. 
 
 " Do you really believe that your father went to the 
 city ?" asked Landolfo, coming by a short cut. " He 
 believed me there." 
 
 " It is possible. A wooden bridge crosses the stream," 
 replied Nora, as if to reassure herself. Suddenly it 
 seemed as if leaden weights were on her feet ; she 
 stared at the stream paralyzed.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. ISI 
 
 " Stand back. Miss Nora, this is no place for you," 
 whispered Landolfo hoarsely as he seized her arm. 
 
 Nora tore herself from his grasp, and sinking on her 
 knees, moaned aloud. Instinct had guided her aright ; 
 her worst fears seemed realized. Partly sunken in the 
 water, a figure lay stretched out, the head resting on 
 the bank, as if the current had thrown it up. Had he 
 slipped into the stream ? Had he become dizzy ? Had 
 he done it intentionally, and had a kind Providence 
 saved him ? Nora's first impulse was to raise the heavy 
 figure, which gave no sign of consciousness. Landolfo 
 was quickly by her side. " Be quiet and collected," 
 he said, but his countenance belied his words. Cold 
 sweat stood out on his forehead, and his teeth chat- 
 tered audibly. With superhuman strength he pulled 
 the gigantic body from the water, and laid the head 
 carefully on Nora's knee. " He is not dead," he said, 
 as he placed his hand over the heart of the unconscious 
 man ; " he has only fainted ; loosen his necktie and rub 
 him as hard as you can, while I go to the house for as- 
 sistance. On his way to the city the bridge broke under 
 him," Landolfo added decidedly, and kicking the rot- 
 ten boards about, he left. 
 
 Nora did not hear or see what he did. Mechanically 
 she did what she was told, haunted by the terrible 
 thought, had she driven her father to this ? Had she 
 in his hour of misfortune so repulsed him that he saw 
 no other alternative ? " Through my fault, through 
 my fault !" sounded in her ears. " Father, father, 
 only live and I will do whatever you desire," she whis-
 
 102 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 pered into the ears of the unconscious man, as though 
 he must hear it and it would revive him. 
 
 Was it the change of position or the rubbing or the 
 voice of his child which made a shiver pass over the 
 body and a light breath move the compressed lips ? 
 
 Nora tightened her hands and prayed, " Let him live, 
 my God ! Do not let him die through my fault. My 
 whole life shall be spent in reparation for this moment." 
 She pressed a small crucifix to her father's lips, and 
 then to her own. " Nothing will be too much to save 
 you, father." It seemed that complete resignation 
 must purchase the life so dear to her. 
 
 Landolfo at length arrived with assistance. Madame 
 Karsten understood from him that her husband had 
 sprained his ankle in the woods, and a stretcher must 
 be sent for him. To the men who came, the broken 
 bridge was sufficient explanation. 
 
 They lifted the director carefully to the stretcher, 
 Mora still holding his hand firmly. When she thought 
 that she perceived some sign of returning consciousness 
 she whispered again her willingness to obey him, so 
 afraid was she that he might die without understanding 
 her. Once his countenance seemed to give signs of 
 comprehending ; once she thought that she felt a slight 
 pressure of the hand. 
 
 The accident was followed by hours of anxiety. In 
 her excitement Madame Karsten was perfectly useless, 
 while Nora's strength and tact were doubled. With 
 perfect composure she left no care neglected. The 
 doctor pronounced the director to be suffering from a
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 183 
 
 slight Stroke of paralysis, aggravated by remaining so 
 long in the water. For several days he hovered be- 
 tween life and death. Nora did not leave him day or 
 night ; she neither spoke nor complained nor wept, but 
 did everything as if his life depended upon it, and she 
 seemed lost to every other consideration. 
 
 When the invalid was restored to full consciousness, 
 he never alluded to the accident or to the circumstances 
 preceding it. As memory returned he seemed dis- 
 tressed, and he sought Nora's eye furtively. Nora did 
 not stop at half measures ; she wished to bring imme- 
 diate rest to the tired brain. Kneeling at his bedside, 
 and with her arms around him, she renewed the prom- 
 ises made while he was unconscious. 
 
 At first he eyed her incredulously, then with a ques- 
 tioning look, and finally, as a childish joy overspread 
 his features, he embraced her and said, " Then it was 
 not a dream ; it was not imagination ? You will help 
 me ? Nora, Nora, you will save your father ! I knew 
 that you would be a good child, and not abandon me 
 in my necessity. Now your old father will not be 
 obliged to part with his beautiful horses, that have been 
 the pride and joy of his life, and without which he could 
 not live. Nora, now we shall drive my rival out of the 
 field ! It will be as it was when you were a little girl, 
 and knew no greater joy than to have papa put you on 
 a horse. Do you remember, Nora ? There came a 
 chasm between us. They took my little daughter 
 from me ; but, like your mother, you will do all I 
 wish ?"
 
 184 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " All," sighed Nora ; but there rang untold agony in 
 the single word. 
 
 " You would not have been happy with him, my 
 child," he said, in the most pathetic voice, and stroking 
 her bowed head. " You would have been miserable. 
 I know the world. You would always have been looked 
 upon as an impostor. He would have regretted marry- 
 ing you, and have neglected you. That would have 
 been a thousand times more bitter than this trial. Be- 
 lieve me, my child, I have saved you from much unhap- 
 piness." 
 
 The director, tired from the exertion of talking, leaned 
 back on his pillow and believed what he said. There 
 is nothing so persuasive as egotism. 
 
 Nora laid her poor, tired head on the pillow of her 
 father, who held her hand fast, as if he feared that she 
 might escape from him and change her mind. 
 
 " All !" she repeated, and the height and depth of 
 her sacrifice rose up before her. Her love gone ; her 
 position despised ; every joy lost, every hope buried. 
 Heavily this knowledge fell upon her heart, so that it 
 was hard to repress a cry of agony. Did the father see 
 in his sleep what his child was suffering ? He threw 
 himself from side to side and muttered, " She will not 
 do it, Landolfo ; she will not do it." 
 
 " Yes, she will do it !" repeated Nora decidedly ; 
 then she rose, freed her hand gently from his grasp, 
 called a nurse, and for the first time in days and nights 
 went to her own room. It did not seem the same ; 
 everything in life was changed since she was here last.
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 185 
 
 On her desk lay the letter she had begun to Curt. 
 The words looked like spectres. Now she must retract 
 all that she had promised. It was all past — all past. 
 With one hasty look she tore the page. " It must 
 be, it must be !" she cried. Although her eyes were 
 bloodshot from want of sleep and every limb ached, 
 she sat down and wrote as if in a dream. What did she 
 write ? That she could never remember. It was a 
 clear recital of the events of each day until she was 
 forced to the final decision. It appeared to her as 
 though she were writing of another ; it did not seem 
 possible that she could have borne what she described. 
 She was brave until the end, but the last farewell, which 
 was to open the impassable abyss, overcame her. 
 
 Like one dying, I bid you farewell ; like one dying, 
 who does not ask if there be any hope. Curt, I could 
 not accept your helping hand. Had you been near, 
 perhaps you might have suggested some other way out 
 of this trouble. But it is my duty ! May the sacrifice 
 I make obtain pardon for me if I am doing wrong. 
 Adieu, Curt, adieu !" 
 
 The pen fell from her hand, her head sank as if in 
 utter prostration, but her mind was agitated, and could 
 find no rest from an ever-present longing. She saw 
 herself once more the child weeping out her first sorrow 
 in the arms of the brave, handsome boy, who placed 
 her by the side of her dying mother, and she felt the 
 feverish, trembling hands which confided her to her 
 father. In her agony she cried aloud, " Mother, 
 mother, was this your wish ? Did you desire that I
 
 i86 THE circus-rider's daughter. 
 
 should belong exclusively to my father ? Oh, with my 
 heart's blood have I given myself up to him. Now 
 come and bless your child." 
 
 A drop of balm seemed to have fallen into her soul ; 
 a blessing seemed to hover over her, the blessing which 
 sweetens each unselfish offering and sanctifies every act 
 of self-sacrifice. 
 
 The letter lay before her. How should she address 
 it ? Her thoughts were perfectly bewildered. At 
 Curt's visit they both promised never again to break 
 his mother's conditions, and with this in view she did 
 not get his address, and now she shrank from trusting 
 her letter to strange hands. She concluded to send it 
 to Curt's mother, murmuring to herself, " She cannot 
 ask more of me."
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 187 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 LANDOLFO had accomplished his ends even more 
 quickly than he had imagined possible. He had 
 greatly exaggerated the business troubles in his tele- 
 gram to the director, with the expres's purpose of work- 
 ing on Nora's sympathies, and the tragic end of his 
 management did not disturb his conscience so much 
 that it could not be quieted by the anticipated advan- 
 tage to the business. 
 
 He was honestly convinced that Nora's appearance 
 in public was the only possible means of recovering the 
 director's losses, but he also looked forward to further- 
 ing his own private ambition by it. 
 
 " In a few years," he thought, " I shall possess the 
 treasure," and he already looked on himself as son-in- 
 law of the far-famed circus director, and partner in a 
 most successful business. 
 
 His first care was to leave nothing undone to prevent 
 the possibility of Nora's changing her mind, and also to 
 prepare for her a good reception from the public. To him 
 all the intricacies of catering to the public were known. 
 
 While Nora sat b)' her father's sick-bed, telling little 
 items concerning her began to appear in the most 
 widely read papers ; at one time it was her beauty and 
 education that were written of, at another her love 
 affair, which was treated in various manners, occasion-
 
 156 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ally coming so near the truth as to almost betray the 
 names of those interested ; again the wildest conjecture 
 was indulged in. The director's supposed loss of for- 
 tune was also hinted at ; obscure hints at possible 
 change of circumstances, when Nora would appear as 
 the deserted maiden, or again as the heroic daughter or 
 the talented equestrienne. All these items of news 
 were read, discussed, and more or less believed, for 
 Karsten's celebrity made his affairs public property. The 
 public gradually grew curious to see her who gave food 
 for such general paper gossip, never suspecting that it 
 all proceeded from the same pen. 
 
 With cunning foresight, Landolfo took pains that all 
 these articles should reach the eye of the countess. She 
 had long since received Nora's letter to her son. It 
 made her very angry to find that her will had been set 
 at defiance, and made this an excuse to absolve her in 
 her own conscience from forwarding the letter. As the 
 newspaper articles arrived, she naturally connected them 
 with the letter in her possession, and did not know 
 whether to be indignant or pleased that she whom her 
 son had honored with his love could lower herself by 
 becoming so publicly spoken of. That Nora was not 
 to blame for all this publicity was no excuse in the eyes 
 of the countess ; the fact of publicity was sufficient 
 reason that her name should never again be coupled 
 with that of her son ; it only strengthened her sense of 
 the justice of withholding the letter for further develop- 
 ments. They were not slow in coming. 
 
 Time passed, and the director's recovery was more
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 189 
 
 rapid than could have been anticipated. All his thoughts 
 and ambition seemed to centre in preparations for his 
 daughter's appearance in public, on which he placed his 
 hop'es of regaining his lost fortune and reputation. 
 Nora's appearance must be surrounded by all that was 
 most brilliant and attractive before his hated rival could 
 interfere. Hardly three weeks had passed since his 
 accident, when flaming posters in large letters and 
 gaudy colors announced, in the principal cities of North- 
 ern Germany, the return of the renowned Karsten cir- 
 cus, and the first appearance of the accomplished artist, 
 Miss Nora Karsten. 
 
 Even the countess, prepared as she was, could not re- 
 main unmoved at the sight of one of these advertise- 
 ments, which Landolfo took care to send her. Some- 
 thing like pity for the poor girl was awakened in her 
 bosom. The graceful, noble figure and pure features, 
 in which there was not a trace of frivolity, rose before 
 her. She asked herself what could have driven Nora 
 to such a course, but hastily concluded that whatever 
 the provoking cause, the fact remained. A heavy weight 
 seemed lifted off her ; at last she would obtain control 
 over her son. She was too honorable to withhold the 
 letter, but she took pains that it should not go alone, 
 but accompanied by every item that had appeared, and 
 by one of the large, offensive advertisements, as well as 
 by the following letter : 
 
 " My Poor Son : I cannot keep you in ignorance of 
 what the whole world already knows. It will awaken
 
 190 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 you from a dream which your mother's wider knowl- 
 edge of life made her long ago recognize as unworthy 
 of you. Do not, my boy, blame yourself ; it is the 
 characteristic of noble souls to be easily deceived. I 
 thank God that the awakening did not come too late 
 for your life's happiness. Come to the arms of your 
 mother. A mother's heart is always full of consolation 
 for her children," 
 
 It was a trivial circumstance, that the countess had so 
 arranged the package that her letter was the last of the 
 enclosures that should meet his eye ; but life is made up 
 of trifles, and sometimes the lightest seem to bear the 
 weightiest results. At the same moment that the pack- 
 age left the countess's hand, Nora stood in the dressing- 
 room ready to appear. Her step-mother and a maid 
 knelt before her, arranging the folds of the rich, dark 
 skirts, which in their severe simplicity displayed her 
 graceful figure. Several wax candles burned at the side 
 of a long mirror, before which she stood, reflecting her 
 rare beauty. Her only ornament was a wide gold chain, 
 which bound her dark hair. She neither looked at the 
 mirror nor at the hands which w^ere busy about her. 
 She stood as one in a dream, her cold hands clasped 
 together ; she had lived from day to day like one in a 
 dream. Her father had saved her from all the minor 
 details. Silently and quietly she had gone through the 
 necessary practice, and the consequent exercise had 
 kept her well. 
 
 But what was the secret hope that brought her daily
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 191 
 
 disappointment, and what was it that made her feel as 
 if the last plank was gone from beneath her feet ? Even 
 at this last moment she hesitated, as if she thought some- 
 thing might happen to prevent the final step. Youth 
 is rich in hope. She herself had bid Curt farewell, she 
 herself had forbidden all attempt to rescue her ; and 
 yet, and yet, would nothing happen before it was too 
 late ? He had risked so much for one hour's happi- 
 ness ! Each day her heart had whispered, " To-day," 
 and each evening it had to find some excuse. 
 
 From outside sounded the trumpets which announced 
 the close of the scene preceding her appearance. The 
 director came for her just as a servant handed her a let- 
 ter. Nora shrank back ; her father turned pale ; but 
 the next moment she let the letter fall from her hands 
 indifferently : it was from the Superior of the convent, 
 expressing her sympathy. But what is sympathy when 
 the heart hungers for love ? 
 
 " It is time," said the director hesitatingly. This 
 last disappointment of an unacknowledged hope had so 
 affected Nora that she was seized with a nervous chill. 
 
 Her father, fearing that all his hopes were blasted, 
 said, "Is it not to be ?" 
 
 "Yes, it is to be," answered Nora, aroused by the 
 sound of his voice, which she had only once before 
 heard so hoarse. " Yes, father, it is to be," and she 
 followed him with a steady step. 
 
 Landolfo's plans promised to be successful in every 
 particular. Every place in the circus was filled, so 
 great was the general curiosity to see the new beauty.
 
 192 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 The director had left nothing undone to increase the 
 general effect. He seemed to wish to surround his 
 daughter with a halo of glory. Grooms in gorgeous 
 livery stood on all sides, and pages guarded the en- 
 trance to the ring. 
 
 Another burst of trumpets, a cry of welcome from the 
 crowd, and with one spring the graceful equestrienne 
 was in the middle of the dazzled crowd of admirers. 
 Her horse, as if cast in bronze, stood perfectly immova- 
 ble with his beautiful burden, who looked like a statue, 
 so set was each feature. In the boxes the young men 
 stood up and swayed with eagerness to catch sight of 
 such marvellous grace and beauty. 
 
 Her fiery horse reared so erect that it seemed impos- 
 sible for the rider to maintain her seat, but at the sound 
 of the soft music he regained his feet, and went through 
 evolution after evolution, until bravos rent the air. 
 The oldest and most critical judges could find no words 
 to express their admiration of such feats of equestrian- 
 ism. The music grew quicker and quicker ; the horse, 
 as if inspired by the general enthusiasm, with one wild 
 neigh leaped the ribbons and disappeared. The eye of 
 the rider had alone remained unmoved ; not a spark of 
 pleasure nor of gratified pride had lighted it ; no an- 
 swering look recognized the applause of the crowd ; she 
 appeared conscious only of her horse. 
 
 Such cheering had not been heard for years, and it 
 was with reason that Landolfo rubbed his hands over 
 the success of his suggestion. Hundreds of voices 
 called for the beautiful debutante^ but her father in trem-
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 193 
 
 bling voice thanked the audience, and announced that 
 the excitement of her first appearance was so great that 
 it would be impossible for his daughter to come out to 
 greet them. 
 
 Nora's success was secured ; but while her name was 
 on every lip, and "the rising star" was toasted over 
 many a sparkling glass, she lay pale and motionless 
 upon her bed, too exhausted for even sorrow. There 
 was but one visible to her mind's eye ; one in whose 
 opinion the events of the evening would leave her for- 
 ever branded ; one from whose circle she was now for- 
 ever excluded. The nervous chill returned, and the 
 swollen lids refused to close. 
 
 Mechanically she sought for the letter of her true 
 friend, and read the following sympathetic words : 
 
 " My child, the Loid has indeed seen fit to lead you 
 by strange paths. A pure intention sanctifies much, 
 and sacrifice excuses all. This is my only explanation 
 for your decision. Perhaps it is destined that you shall 
 do more good in this dangerous career than in that 
 which seemed to us safer. Child of my heart, 
 whatever you do, you are dearer to me than ever. 
 Let the tie of sincere love bind us. In thought I 
 shall follow you, and pray God to protect and guide 
 3^ou." 
 
 Yes, friendship crossed the barrier which drove love 
 back. Again and again Nora read the sentence, " A 
 pure intention sanctifies much ; sacrifice excuses all." 
 The last thought before sleep came to her relief was, 
 " Will Curt think so, and not despise me ? Oh, he shall
 
 194 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 see that I shall not sink even on this dangerous path ! 
 His love shall save me from that." 
 
 While these occurrences were taking place, Curt v^as 
 enjoying the pleasures of his surroundings. Since his 
 heart had been set at ease and his resolution strength- 
 ened, he had recovered all his natural elasticity of spirit. 
 He was young, and so confident of his own and Nora's 
 love, that the time of their separation seemed nothing. 
 When it was passed and she should be his, he would, 
 he thought, retain his foreign appointment for some 
 years, in order to save her from any possible annoyances 
 at home. Then, improved by experience, they would 
 return and together take up their domestic duties. The 
 picture which he drew of his future was so simple and 
 so sweet that he loved to dwell upon it. He was better 
 calculated for a life of action, he considered, than for 
 the narrow routine of a country life. Unconsciously 
 his love for Nora had opened for him a freer life. For 
 the present he determined to direct all his energies to 
 studying the people of the East, and so far as possible to 
 visit the places sacred to science and religion, which some- 
 times took him away from his post for weeks at a time. 
 
 It was on his return from one of these trips that his 
 chief handed him a packet which had come during his 
 absence. " A goodly volume," said the old gentle- 
 man, handing him the letter addressed in his mother's 
 handwriting. " Well, well, the young rejoice in such 
 arrivals, while the old fear them ; there is so little left 
 of good for us in the world. Go, read your domestic 
 chronicle."
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. I95 
 
 As Curt went out he met a young colleague attached 
 to the French Legation, who accompanied him to his 
 apartment. With true French liveliness the latter talked 
 on, so that he did not remark the preoccupation of Curt, 
 who was not without anxiety at the' sight of so volu- 
 minous a correspondence. 
 
 When he reached his rooms. Curt threw the package 
 on the table, and the young Frenchman remarked with 
 tact, " Oh, a letter from home. I should not have in- 
 truded on you, count. I beg you will satisfy your curi- 
 osity while I amuse myself in your conservatory. I am 
 something of a botanist." He stepped into the enclo- 
 sure which is such an agreeable feature of the houses 
 in Pera, where flowering plants and miniature fountains 
 make up for the close, dirty streets. 
 
 " My mother seems to be turning editor," replied 
 Curt, in a gay voice. " Pray make yourself at home, 
 dear count. Why, the package seems to contain only 
 newspaper clippings. Take a cigar, while I look over 
 them." 
 
 The count did not come in at once, for he was busy 
 examining a floral specimen which was new to him. A 
 noise in the room attracting him, he looked through 
 the glass doors, and saw Curt bowed over the table, with 
 his head sunken on his outstretched arms. The open 
 letter lay at his feet, but his hand grasped one of the 
 advertisements. 
 
 " In the name of God, count, what ails you ?" ex- 
 claimed his friend, springing toward him. 
 
 A moan was Curt's only reply, and his head was
 
 196 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 SO buried in his hands that his face could not be 
 seen. 
 
 " Count, count !" called the Frenchman kindly, " I 
 beg of you to compose yourself. Have you received 
 bad news ? Are you sick ? Shall I call the servant ?" 
 
 Curt stretched out his hands, as if to prevent any one 
 approaching, and said, " Only a headache ; a little 
 dizzy. Give me water." 
 
 His friend hastened out and dipped his handkerchief 
 in the fountain, to place it on Curt's head. He was but 
 a minute out of the room, but when he returned all the 
 printed notices had disappeared. 
 
 " It was a terrible pain that seized me," explained 
 Curt, as he still held his head between his hands, while 
 the other laid the cool, damp cloth on his temples. 
 " The fatigue of my trip must have been too much for 
 me." 
 
 The polite Frenchman did not contradict, but he 
 could not help thinking that his friend did not look at 
 all tired on his return, and secretly concluded that his 
 emotion must have been produced by some unpleasant 
 news. However, it was evident that he wished it to re- 
 main a secret, and the Frenchman was far too discreet 
 to pursue the subject, and merely said, " Your fore- 
 head burns. I would advise you to retire and send for 
 the doctor. One cannot trifle with such attacks in this 
 climate." 
 
 " I think I am better," said Curt wearily. " These 
 climatic fevers make one delirious, do they not ?" 
 
 "That depends," replied the Frenchman, smiling;
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 197 
 
 " but I trust it will not come to that, if you are pru- 
 dent." 
 
 " Perhaps a fit of fever might do me good," said 
 Curt, as if speaking to himself. " Sometimes a man is 
 delirious most of his life. Forgive me, my dear fellow, 
 I am such poor company. A doctor, you say ? No, 
 I think not ; but keep visitors away. I hate visitors when 
 I am sick." 
 
 " Just as you like, you unsociable German ; but you 
 must allow me to send for a doctor, and your edict 
 against visitors must not include me, mon aniiy 
 
 The Frenchman had chatted on, but he was not at all 
 sure that he was understood, for Curt's eyes looked at 
 him absently, and his thoughts were evidently far away. 
 The Frenchman took up his hat in order to go for a 
 doctor, but he had hardly reached the street when he 
 heard his name called. He looked back, and saw Curt 
 following him with tottering steps and holding a letter 
 in his hand. 
 
 " Dear friend," he said hurriedly, " do me a favor. 
 This letter must go by return mail. It is — it is to my 
 cousin. By some mistake it was sent here. It must be 
 returned." 
 
 Curt handed him the letter, with the word returned 
 written in large letters. 
 
 His friend promised to see to it, and noticing Curt's 
 excitement, begged permission to accompany him back, 
 which the latter declined positively. He looked after 
 the sick man anxiously, and seeing that the letter was 
 directed to Curt in a female hand, he shook his head.
 
 IQO THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 saying, " If a woman is not at the root of it, I am mis- 
 taken. The letter has not been opened. A man should 
 never act when under excitement. Probably one of 
 these days the count would give a good deal to have 
 read this ; but these Germans are obstinate ; we must 
 do as he says. Oh, woman, woman, there is no evil 
 but you have a finger in it !" Saying this, the young 
 man sighed, as if he had some experience. 
 
 Nora waited longingly for an answer to her letter, 
 which was for weeks in the hands of the countess, for 
 which cruelty the latter was destined to suffer much. 
 Day by day she waited to hear from her son, but time 
 went by and no news came. She wrote again and again, 
 she wearied herself with conjectures. Perhaps she 
 ought to have been more sympathetic, and prepared him 
 for the disappointment. Had she undervalued the 
 depth of his love ? She would not harbor the possi- 
 bility of his standing by Nora and one day bringing her 
 home as his wife. The suspense had become almost 
 unbearable, when a letter came, not from her son, but 
 from his chief. That gentleman informed the mother 
 in the gentlest way of the illness of her son. He at- 
 tributed the attack to over-fatigue in the journeys which 
 Curt had made into the interior ; but the mother, in 
 comparing the dates of her letter and the beginning 
 of the illness, was at no loss to find the probable 
 cause. 
 
 Her first impulse was to go to her son, but the writer 
 expressed Curt's unwillingness to see her, and the doc- 
 tor's opinion of the result of such a meeting deterred
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. I99 
 
 her. She could judge from her own feelings what would 
 be the consequences of their coming together. 
 
 The kind-hearted Frenchman, who had installed him- 
 self as Curt's nurse, sent weekly bulletins to the coun- 
 tess, but for a long time no chance of recovery appeared. 
 The fever was followed by a mental apathy ; he suffered 
 no pain, uttered no complaint, never mentioned any 
 name, and seemed in constant dread of news from home. 
 
 The first physicians were called ; they all recommend- 
 ed change of air ; but the bodily weakness of the patient 
 made a journey impossible. It seemed as if all mental 
 and physical power was completely paralyzed. 
 
 " The climate did not agree with him," was the uni- 
 versal verdict of the crowds who came to offer their 
 sympathy to his mother, and the countess could see in 
 each countenance the question. What was the reason 
 for exposing him to such danger ? She accepted the 
 expressed sympathy and implied reproach with equal 
 coldness. No one would have known the tortures she 
 suffered were it not for the bent figure and the sud- 
 denly silvered hair. 
 
 The summer was at its height when the news came 
 that Curt could travel. The mother's heart beat with 
 hope, and yet no letter came from her child. It was 
 the French friend who always, in the most amiable and 
 respectful words, wrote that her son was not strong 
 enough to write ; that he had, however, decided to 
 travel, hoping much from entire change of scene. He 
 purposed going first to Greece, then to Sicily, and the 
 winter would be passed in the South of France. " AI-
 
 20O THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ways approaching his country and the heart of his 
 mother," the Frenchman added with national tact. A 
 list of cities where money could be sent to him was 
 appended. 
 
 As the countess read this last letter, burning tears 
 coursed down her cheeks. A sharp pain stung her to 
 the heart as she thought that this was all the return she 
 had for years of devotion, and unconsciously the words 
 of the nun of Brussels came to her, " You may lose a 
 son instead of gaining a daughter." 
 
 She was not a woman, however, to allow herself to 
 be mastered by such feelings. She had acted accord- 
 ing to her principles, and looked on the result as a con- 
 sequence which must be borne. " He will get over it," 
 she said to herself. " His good constitution will con- 
 quer," she said to others ; and with these words she 
 silenced all curiosity and sympathy. 
 
 She spoke to no one of her son's sickness, not even 
 to her true friend, the chaplain, who was one of the 
 family. In a few words she had mentioned to him 
 Nora's appearing in public, and as, to his great sorrow, 
 he knew only what was known from the newspapers, he 
 could not account for the change of circumstances. 
 
 About this time the Superioress of the convent of 
 Brussels wrote to the countess as follows : 
 
 " I have a word of explanation to give you with re- 
 gard to her who might have come so near to you had 
 not unfortunate circumstances so changed the dear 
 child's career. She has made an unheard-of sacrifice to 
 filial duty, and God will guide and protect her. Judge
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 20I 
 
 her not. In the cause of truth I say this to you, and 
 charge you to repeat it to your son. The knowledge 
 that he did not bestow his love on an unworthy object 
 will be some consolation to him in the trial he has suf- 
 fered. God in His wisdom has decreed this, but the 
 two young hearts have a bitter chalice to drink to the 
 dregs." 
 
 The countess threw the letter angrily aside, saying, 
 " The amiable Sybille has had her head turned by her 
 infatuation for this girl. To bring him back to such 
 thoughts now would be madness. It is really wonder- 
 ful how seclusion from the world will make so sensible 
 a woman as Sybille so unpractical. All romance !" 
 
 The countess herself was so practical that she took 
 care to throw the letter into the fire — the only means 
 that remained to her by which she could have regained 
 the way to her son's heart.
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 YEARS had passed, and brought their changes. 
 Even Lily, with her rosy, chubby face was con- 
 scious of them, for she was now of age and mistress of 
 her own fortune. Until now she had been under the 
 care of her aunt, who never suspected that she would 
 ever wish to leave it until she changed it for a protector 
 for life. So far the heiress had turned a deaf ear to all 
 suitors, much to the delight of her aunt, whose early 
 hopes with regard to her son and niece were renewed 
 by the late change in Nora's career. Her astonishment, 
 therefore, was great when Lily announced her deter- 
 mination to place herself under the chaperonage of an 
 aged relative, and to reside on her own property, which 
 was situated near Vienna, at least a day's journey from 
 the Degenthal possessions. 
 
 The countess sought in vain to discover what impelled 
 Lily to this decision, but she did not offer any remon- 
 strance, the latter being one of those quiet characters 
 who never make a move until their right to do so is un- 
 questionable, and then they rarely change their minds. 
 
 Since her cousin's sudden journey she had harbored 
 a certain grudge against her aunt ; not that she exactly 
 held her responsible for it, as she knew his desire to 
 enter the diplomatic service, but she had an unaccount- 
 able suspicion that the countess had for some reason
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 203 
 
 wished Curt to leave home, and that he had not been 
 happy. Lily was not remarkable for great or deep 
 powers of thought, but with such superficial characters 
 it is often found that they are very tenacious of a con- 
 clusion once reached. From early childhood she had 
 looked on Curt as her own property, and when she un- 
 willingly thought of his coldness and indifference toward 
 her, the remembrance of the pleasure he took in her 
 conversation that last evening consoled her, and she 
 felt that she loved him enough to wait. She was one 
 of those beings who are at their best in their own homes, 
 and she felt instinctively that she and her cousin would 
 be more to each other at her own fireside. 
 
 Notwithstanding her youth, Lily had a great deal of 
 independence, and a well-regulated idea of the propri- 
 eties of her position. All that was beyond her capacity 
 in the management of her business she left to wiser 
 heads ; her domestic affairs, her garden, her poultry, 
 and her poor occupied her, and in this circle of duties 
 all was well organized. If she was a trifle narrow, it 
 was ascribed to her youth. 
 
 As was said before, young men did not find her very 
 attractive, but their elders pronounced her a sensible 
 girl who would make a sensible woman. Young girls 
 did not understand her, but wise mammas looked on 
 the quiet little blonde as the perfection of a daughter- 
 in-law ; a mistake into which many mothers fall in 
 selecting these quiet, obstinate materials as being easily 
 managed. 
 
 For once the undemonstrative little heiress was ex-
 
 204 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 cited until the blood rose to the very roots of her hair. 
 A letter from her aunt hinted at the possibility of a visit 
 from Curt, who had at last turned his face homeward, 
 and intended to stop to see his cousin, as her house lay 
 on his way. Lily's pale blue eyes almost shone, and as 
 the proposed visit would probably occur within a few 
 days, the housekeeper was surprised at receiving so 
 many instructions in regard to preparations which had 
 never been considered necessary for other guests. 
 
 Notwithstanding the protestations of her chaperon, 
 who was a lady of old-time prejudices, the pony chaise 
 was sent to the railroad station each day, as " My 
 Cousin Curt might arrive." 
 
 And how had time passed with " Cousin Curt" since 
 the day on which the contents of that package sent by 
 his mother had robbed him of all belief in love and 
 truth, and dealt a death-blow to his life's happiness ? 
 
 He never could clearly recall his own feelings when 
 his eye fell on that terrible poster ; he only remembered 
 a bewildering storm which threatened his reason and 
 seemed to precipitate him into a fathomless abyss. The 
 depths of indignation, contempt, and wounded pride 
 enveloped him. When he tried to doubt his senses, 
 those flaming letters stood out in such fearful reality 
 that when he found himself alone a piercing cry burst 
 from his broken heart. No sooner had his friend left 
 him than he looked with feverish impatience for his 
 mother's letter, and when the facts were burned into 
 his brain, his first care was to destroy all evidence of 
 his mortification and disappointment, which would
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 205 
 
 bring upon him the derision of all his acquaintances. 
 When he saw Nora's well-remembered handwriting, his 
 first impulse was to destroy it ; then a second thought 
 suggested that a sweeter revenge would be to return 
 the letter to her unopened. 
 
 This was the last act of which he had any remem- 
 brance. On the doctor's arrival he found Curt lying on 
 the floor entirely unconscious, and for weeks he re- 
 mained delirious. As the fever abated a general paral- 
 ysis set in, and in the long hours of helplessness he lived 
 in the past. At times it all seemed a dreadful night- 
 mare from which he must awaken, or a creation of his 
 delirium which must disappear ; but no question passed 
 his lips, and in the secret of his soul he tried to solve 
 the problem. He had such a morbid dread of knowing 
 the truth, that he shrank from receiving any home news. 
 This condition so puzzled the physicians that they 
 sought in every way to find out the cause of the trouble 
 which was apparently preying on his mind, but all in 
 vain. 
 
 A couple of months after he had been attacked his 
 friend, in order to amuse him, got in the habit of bring- 
 ing him some of those illustrated papers which give 
 such good pictures of all that is of passing interest, 
 from the doings of crowned heads to the feats of crowned 
 oxen. They occasionally provoked a faint smile from 
 the invalid, until one number came that was full of the 
 wonderful equestrienne who had lately appeared. His 
 friend was delighted to see Curt's curiosity so aroused 
 as to make him stretch out his hand for the paper. He
 
 2o6 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 looked for some minutes at the illustration, then he 
 suddenly turned away his face, his head sank back, and 
 the wild delirium returned to his eye. 
 
 " So weary," groaned Curt ; and that night he had 
 a relapse from which it was more difficult to recover 
 than from the original sickness, for it seemed even after 
 his youth and good constitution had seconded the clev- 
 erest medical care, a lethargy set in from which it was 
 impossible to rouse him. No doubt now remained. 
 All was but too true ; she for whom he was willing to 
 sacrifice all had trampled his feelings in the dust. 
 
 As a last resource, the physicians insisted on change 
 of air and scene. " Anywhere, anywhere but home," 
 Curt answered to their advice. That air, it seemed to 
 him, would suffocate him. He did not hold his mother 
 responsible for his unhappiness, but we are apt to turn 
 from the hand which was the instrument of letting us 
 know of our ill-luck. He could not but fancy that she 
 would rejoice. She had prophesied how it would be ; 
 and we are not drawn to the foreseers of ill when their 
 words are verified. He wandered from place to place. 
 A stronger character would perhaps have sought dis- 
 traction in the struggle and strife of life ; but his love 
 gone, all was void to him. Necessity of action is the 
 only saving to such natures in such trials, and Curt 
 was not forced to this, so a morbid lethargy completely 
 mastered him. 
 
 At the end of three years he complied with his 
 mother's repeated requests to come home. The express 
 train from Paris to Vienna makes as few and short stops
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 207 
 
 as possible. One evening, at one of the intervening 
 stations, a young man with the unruffled manner of a 
 habitual traveller stepped up to the guard of this train 
 and asked him for a first-class coupe. The obsequious 
 official opened a door, and on the traveller begging for 
 a compartment to himself, he shrugged his shoulders, 
 merely saying, "All the others are even fuller;" the 
 young man entered and found two female passengers 
 already installed. The elder, judging from her dress, 
 was a maid ; she was fast asleep, and snoring most 
 comfortably. The other, owing to the waning daylight 
 and her sitting in the farthest corner, he could not well 
 see, but he remarked that she was surrounded by those 
 dainty comforts which bespeak the lady. From time 
 to time she bent her veiled head forward, as if to catch 
 a glimpse of the passing scenery. 
 
 Notwithstanding his apparent fatigue and blase man- 
 ner, the young man seemed unconsciously drawn to look 
 toward his opposite neighbor with some curiosity. 
 
 All being in readiness, the shrill whistle announced 
 the start, the engine sent forth a volume of smoke, the 
 steam whizzed and fizzed, and the mammoth train 
 once more flew on — on by wood and meadow ; on by 
 hamlet and village ; over hills and rocks ; on, on, as 
 though seconds were lives, as though there were no 
 time to lose on the beauties of nature. 
 
 At length a halt ; the guard called the name of a uni- 
 versity town ; the old servant slept on, but the other 
 two occupants of the coupe, as if awakened from the 
 dead, started to their feet and stood facing each other
 
 2o8 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 in the narrow passage ; eye met eye ; the hands were 
 instinctively outstretched but quickly withdrawn ; the 
 blood rushed to their cheeks and temples ; words seemed 
 ready to pass the parted lips ; but no, dark clouds ho- 
 vered over, and the sunshine of impulse was obscured ; 
 both sank into their seats and were strangers once more. 
 
 Again the express flew on, cheered by the hochs of a 
 party of students, but leaving behind it a grave of dead 
 youth. Neither of the travellers again looked toward 
 the other ; on the contrary, their faces were steadfastly 
 turned to their respective windows, and their eyes wan- 
 dered far, far away. Gone, gone was their happiness ; 
 gone like the passing scenes, gone like the curling 
 smoke. They could not command their thoughts, for 
 their brains were burning, and their hearts seemed un- 
 able to restrain cries of agony as the cold, clear moon 
 lit up the hill-tops and the stream they both knew so 
 well. 
 
 Burning tears rose to the young girl's eyes, and a 
 deep longing so possessed her that she looked across, as 
 if so deep a feeling must be reciprocated ; but the young 
 man was as erect as a marble statue, and looked per- 
 sistently into the night. This froze her to the soul ; the 
 returned, unopened letter stood out before her, and a 
 wall of adamant seemed to rise between them. 
 
 And he — what were his thoughts ? Did not remem- 
 brance bring back that long railroad ride when he 
 laughed at distance and counted the moments until he 
 saw her who now was before him ? when he thought no 
 effort too great in order to spend a few hours in her
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 209 
 
 company ? She whom he then sought now sits before 
 him ; he can hear her breathe and feel the slight move- 
 ments of her figure. What would he not then have 
 given for such moments ! and now she has no charms 
 for him. As if impelled by some inner force, he looked 
 around. Yes, there are the delicate features, the long 
 black lashes, the full lips, the broad forehead, and the 
 waving hair, all more beautiful than ever, and yet he 
 turns away ! 
 
 Where had he last seen that face ? Oh, horror ! in a 
 newspaper that called all to come and look on the beau- 
 tiful circus-rider. He closed his eyes in order to shut 
 out the sight. 
 
 On goes the train until the level plains are regained. 
 The romantic hills have vanished like the romance of 
 their lives ; God help them ! Will life be as monot- 
 onous for them as this flat country lying in the melan- 
 choly gray of the early morning ? 
 
 On, on, hour follows hour, and still they are in mo- 
 tion not more bewildering than their thoughts, where 
 question and prayer and yearning remain unanswered. 
 Suddenly the shrill whistle announces their arrival at a 
 well-known town in Southern Germany. The maid 
 awakes, and in an excited manner collects all the pack- 
 ages ready to leave the train. Nora (for it is she) moves 
 mechanically ; it is necessary to pass him. For a mo- 
 ment her eyes rest on him, not startled as before, but 
 in quiet despair. A softening sorrow seems to steal on 
 him as he looks furtively on the pale, sad face ; he half 
 stretches out his hand to help her, but at the same mo-
 
 2IO THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ment a gentleman enters the coupe and gives her a cor- 
 dial welcome. With a slight inclination of the head she 
 left, and entered a carriage which was waiting. 
 
 Curt looked after them as if gazing on a spirit. The 
 guard entered, and in a loquacious manner said, 
 " Surely his highness could not find fault with the com- 
 pany I gave him. The lady is well known here ; she is 
 the great rider, the daughter of the renowned Karsten, 
 who arrived the day before yesterday in a special train. 
 Will your highness not take a cup of coffee ? The morn- 
 ing air is cold," he added, as he noticed Curt's pale 
 face. 
 
 Curt felt chilled in every limb, but he turned away 
 and did not make any answer, so the guard was de- 
 terred from further conversation, and went to seek some 
 more social traveller. 
 
 Curt is alone in the empty coupe. She who had been 
 with him for so many hours is gone. The opportunity 
 is lost, the opportunity which perhaps had been vouch- 
 safed him by a kind Providence to have all explained. 
 The word remained unspoken, the tongue paralyzed, 
 the lips closed. 
 
 " Nora ! Nora !" he cried, with his hands covering 
 his face. All the old wounds reopened, and all the old 
 love sprang to life. " Nora, Nora, why did I not 
 speak ?' ' 
 
 The sun was high in the heavens when he arrived at 
 his destination. The liveried groom had recognized 
 him, and stood, hat in hand, to tell him that the carriage 
 was waiting for him. The equipage was perfectly ap-
 
 THE CIRCUS RIDER S DAUGHTER. 211 
 
 pointed, and the ponies tossed their heads high, as if 
 conscious of the admiration they excited. But all this 
 was lost on the weary traveller, who threw himself care- 
 lessly into the vehicle, and closing his eyes, did not see 
 the handsome avenue that he entered or the palatial 
 house he approached. 
 
 At least ten times that day Lily had asked herself, 
 "Will he come?" and gone to the window to see if 
 there was any sign of her cousin's arrival. At length 
 the tramp of the horses' feet on the bridge announced 
 the approach of the expected guest. Lily hastened to 
 the drawing-room to receive her cousin with all due 
 ceremony, and waited for him with mingled feelings of 
 joy and timidity. 
 
 The groom came in to say that the count begged to 
 be excused ; he had retired to his room, and found it 
 impossible to appear after so long and fatiguing a jour- 
 ney, but he would try to be down in an hour. 
 
 Lily's bright look disappeared. Joy, particularly the 
 joy of being reunited, is quickly chilled by delay.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 " '' I ^HAT was a quiet journey," remarked old Anne 
 -^ as she rubbed her sleepy eyes and took a seat 
 by her young mistress in the carriage. Old Anne had 
 remained faithful to the director's family, and was now 
 Nora's special attendant. " Nora, my baby, I believe 
 you are chilled," she said, as she pulled the travelling 
 rug closer around her charge. " This comes from this 
 night travelling, and running round the world is not 
 good for either young or old bones." 
 
 The carriage drew up before one of the first hotels, 
 and the person who had met them at the station again 
 appeared and said, " The director arrived yesterday 
 evening ; everything is arranged for the morning after 
 next if you are not too fatigued, miss." 
 
 Nora did not seem to hear him, and went upstairs 
 without taking further notice of him. 
 
 " Very ungracious," muttered Landolfo, " complete- 
 ly spoiled ; that will soon be cured, my pretty one. 
 If I do not mistake, that was Count Degenthal who 
 looked out of the coupe. I hope it was not a rendez- 
 vous. However, it does not matter ; we have seen to 
 it ; that is all spoiled for la hella Donna. Perhaps that 
 was the cause of her ladyship's haughtiness ; there will 
 soon come a day of reckoning," he added, with a spite-
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 213 
 
 ful sneer, as he entered the restaurant of the hotel to 
 drown his resentment in some choice liqueur. 
 
 Old Anne, as she had many a time done for her 
 mother, now put Nora's room in order, darkened the 
 windows, smoothed the pillows, and laid out her dear 
 charge's soft wrapper, that she might get some rest after 
 her weary night's travel. Nora passively allowed her- 
 self to be waited on, and lay down perfectly silent. The 
 old woman shook her head, and muttered, " This rest- 
 less life is bringing her just where her mother was. She 
 will end like her mother, if she was ten times as strong, 
 my poor miss." 
 
 Nora was left alone to get some rest, but it would not 
 come. Everything seemed to move and rush and whiz, 
 and there opposite to her she saw Curt, sitting still and 
 cold. It was a stormy night just three years ago that 
 she sought rest after her first appearance in public, en 
 tirely overcome, as she was to-night, by mental and 
 physical excitement. Her profession had since taken 
 her into every country in Europe Landolfo's anticipa- 
 tions were more than realized with regard to her suc- 
 cess. Her beauty and dexterity had more than restored 
 all the old glory of Karsten's circus. Nora's name 
 always filled the largest houses. Her father had left 
 nothing undone to save her feelings. She never mixed 
 with the other members of the troupe or took part in 
 any exhibition of a theatrical nature, her appearance 
 being strictly restricted to artistic riding, and she was 
 always mounted on the best horses of her father's re- 
 nowned stables.
 
 214 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 She had thought that she could never bear that first 
 evening, that she would certainly die from the double 
 sorrow of humiliation and lost love ; but it is not so easy 
 to die. She was created of enduring material, and the 
 consciousness of the purity of her intention in the offer- 
 ing she made sustained her. It was a bitter thing when 
 her letter was returned unopened, but it came when 
 sorrow had almost benumbed her heart. The envelope 
 was so covered with various postmarks that she tried to 
 persuade herself that perhaps it had never reached Curt. 
 She looked forward to the day when she could explain 
 all her motives to him, and, in the mean time, her life 
 and conduct would be her best protectors. Wherever 
 she appeared she commanded the respect and admiration 
 of all the fashionable men, so much so that her step- 
 mother tried to cheer her by assuring her that, with a 
 little encouragement, she could have ten noblemen at 
 her feet instead of the one who had abandoned her. 
 Nora shook her head silently, and never accepted any 
 homage, no matter how respectful ; never cast one look 
 of gratification to her crowd of admirers. It was an 
 accepted fact that she did not even take one of the floral 
 offerings thrown to her in such abundance. One cav- 
 alier, more persevering than the others, hit on the idea 
 of sending his bouquets direct to the house, and it re- 
 quired all the persuasion of her step-mother to prevent 
 her sending them back. Only the fear of making ene- 
 mies for her father, to whom she had devoted her life, 
 induced her to keep them. 
 
 She declined all the little suppers and feasts which
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 215 
 
 were given ostensibly to honor her father, but in reality 
 to draw the daughter from her persistent retirement. 
 A few minutes in the riding school or a turn in the cor- 
 ridor of the theatre, and even then by the side of her 
 father, were the only occasions on which the most ardent 
 of her admirers could boast of meeting her. In the 
 early morning, when society was still asleep, she might 
 have been seen going or coming from church. 
 
 This had been Nora's life, but the night after her long 
 ride in the Vienna express a veil seemed to fall from 
 her eyes, and with it all hope vanished. The meeting 
 in the train made her understand the cold contempt 
 which had returned her letter unopened. Spurned ! 
 spurned ! Torn from the heart which was all and every- 
 thing to her. He had found no excuse for her conduct ; 
 he had no sympathy or compassion for her to lighten 
 that night of despair. Her face lay hidden in the pil- 
 lows, her hands were buried in her hair. 
 
 In the midst of her agony a feeling of justice arose ; 
 the broken heart rebelled against the injustice it was 
 suffering. Who was he who would not deign her a 
 word or a look ? Had he not broken his vow to be her 
 helper and protector ? and yet with the first wave of 
 adversity he had abandoned her ! True, she thought 
 in the bitterness of her soul, she had released him from 
 his promise ; she had absolved him from all duty ; but 
 he had not raised a finger to help her. He had accepted 
 his freedom to let her sink. 
 
 Why should she grieve ? He had accepted his free- 
 dom most willingly, while she had sacrificed every
 
 2l6 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 thought to the shadow of his love. The indignant 
 blood rose to her face ; the deserted heart yearned for 
 some excitement to fill its aching void. Why should 
 she try to be better than those among whom fate had 
 cast her ? All happiness had fled. 
 
 It was long before this unhealthy excitement was 
 quieted in Nora's heart. It is only when the angry 
 waters have abated that we see the ravages they have 
 made. When she arose, the whole expression of her 
 countenance was changed. Her eyes burned with an 
 angry fire, her lips wore a haughty curve. As she was 
 doing up her hair some one knocked at the door, and a 
 magnificent bouquet was handed in. Her first impulse 
 was to refuse it, as usual ; but a second thought made 
 her bury her face in its depths, and with a feverish im- 
 patience inhale its fragrance. 
 
 She was at no loss to guess from whom the flowers 
 came. An admirer of princely rank had followed her 
 for several months with those costly offerings, which 
 to-day for the first time she accepted. 
 
 " I can bring them all to my feet," she said, with a 
 proud toss of her head. " I can captivate them all ; I 
 can command them with a wave of my hand ; I can 
 make these haughty men suffer as I have suffered. I 
 will show him that I have only to stretch out my hand 
 to accept what he refuses." 
 
 When Nora came to her fatlier a little later in order 
 to receive his instructions with regard to the coming ex- 
 hibition, he was arstonished to see the interest she mani- 
 fested in it.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 217 
 
 Every tongue was busy with the beauty of the fair 
 Karsten, and pronounced her more charming than ever. 
 The coldness for which she had been hitherto criticised 
 had disappeared, which was attributed to the triumphal 
 tour she had just completed in France. She began to 
 take part in character performances, and became quite 
 famous in a particularly romantic piece which drew 
 large houses. It was taken from the fable of Libussa, 
 Bohemia's beautiful queen, and one of the scenes, in 
 which Libussa and her amazons attack their male ene- 
 mies, gave an opportunity for some remarkable feats of 
 equestrianism. The grace of the amazons as they put 
 the men to flight, and finally the close, when Libussa 
 (Nora's part) sends an arrow through the hero, Sharka, 
 and then falls herself dead, called forth the wildest en- 
 thusiasm from full houses. 
 
 The troupe was making its annual visit to Vienna, 
 and when the play of Libussa was announced, the circus 
 was attended by the most fashionable audience. Nora 
 looked most dazzlingly beautiful as, mounted on a black 
 steed, she entered, surrounded by her amazons. She 
 wore a golden coat of armor, with a full pleated skirt 
 of cloth of silver, and a silver helmet, which left her 
 features visible, and beneath which her long black hair 
 fell down her neck. She sat her horse with a strength 
 and ease that made her the embodiment of the ideal 
 heroine. The combination of matchless riders and 
 superb horses made a brilliant spectacle, but every eye 
 was fastened on Libussa, whose magnificent presence 
 and graceful riding outshone even such perfection.
 
 2l8 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 Applause followed applause, and at the scene of the 
 amazons' last triumph, when they rushed out with 
 Libussa at their head, her hair flying, her eyes on fire, 
 and her lance raised, one general cry of " The Valkyria, 
 the shield-maid !" rent the air. Then came the moment 
 when she is to send the death-arrow to the heart of the 
 last of their enemies, and die herself in the struggle. 
 On this 'occasion, as Nora's many admirers were strain 
 ing all their attention in expectation of the telling scene, 
 she seemed palsied, and a deathly pallor overspread her 
 countenance. Her step-mother, who personated one of 
 the amazons, recalled her to the embarrassment of the 
 position. She seemed to awaken from a dream, and 
 played her part to the end so effectively that the audi- 
 ence, looking on the whole occurrence as the perfection 
 of acting, were wild with enthusiasm. 
 
 Fortunately the plot required that Nora was to be 
 carried out dying, for she could not have stood up. 
 She did not hear the storm of encores nor see the 
 bouquets and crowns which fell at her feet, and on 
 being taken from the arena, she was overcome by 
 hysteria. 
 
 In the midst of a group of officers she had seen a man 
 clad in ecclesiastical robes looking at her earnestly, but 
 not entering into the surrounding enthusiasm. 
 
 One of the officers addressed the priest in the follow- 
 ing words, " Reverend chaplain, that is right ; has this 
 marvel of the ring tempted you to the city ? The coun- 
 tess seems to have quite deserted us." 
 
 " The ill-health of her son has made her retire com-
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 219 
 
 pletely from society. I am now on my way to see 
 Count Curt, who has again been taken ill at his 
 cousin's," replied our old friend the chaplain. 
 
 "Has Curt finally returned from his wandering?" 
 continued the officer, " and at his cousin's? That will 
 please his mamma. What was really the matter with 
 him ?" 
 
 " The climatic fever seemed to have shattered his con- 
 stitution. He never quite recovered from the brain 
 fever which he had at Pera. We were beginning to be 
 quite encouraged ab^ut him, but now all the old symp- 
 toms have returned." 
 
 " This is very sad," said the officer kindly. " It was 
 an unfortunate idea of his mother's to send him away ; 
 but her heart seemed set on it for some reason or an- 
 other. I trust you will find him better." 
 
 " Thank you. He expressed a wish to see me, so I 
 set out immediately. The countess has been with him 
 for some weeks." 
 
 " I shall go over to see my old friend, and to pay my 
 respect to the coy little Countess Lily. Where is the 
 younger son. Count Nicholas ?" 
 
 " With his regiment. He has grown to be a big fel- 
 low in the last few years." 
 
 Indeed ? But he will never equal Curt, the best 
 fellow that ever lived. It would be a pity if he should 
 not get strong. Come, reverend sir ; something seems 
 to attract our friends." 
 
 As they approached a group of young officers, who 
 surrounded their captain of the horse, one of them was
 
 220 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 heard to say, " Did you ever see anything more beauti- 
 ful ? She is charming ; and her riding ! Captain, she 
 seems to improve all the time." 
 
 " I can't agree with you," replied the latter. " She 
 used to please me more ; she seemed so completely to 
 forget herself and be almost a part of her horse. To- 
 night it was not so. But see ; is that not Prince N ? 
 
 They say his admiration for the pretty Karsten makes 
 him follow the troupe everywhere." 
 
 " Yes, they tell wonderful things of his devotion to 
 her ; but they say she is engaged to the manager, who 
 is madly jealous." 
 
 The chaplain heaved a deep sigh. 
 
 "Reverend chaplain, will you join us?" asked the 
 captain respectfully. " A little cool refreshment will 
 not come amiss." 
 
 " I thank you, no. I think I have had enough of 
 worldliness for one evening, and I have to make an 
 early start in the morning. Good-night, gentlemen,"
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 EARLY next morning a note was handed to Nora 
 requiring an answer. She had had a feverish 
 night, and was now sitting at her table trying to write 
 a letter, and tearing up each attempt. The note, which 
 was on a visiting-card, requested her to see the writer. 
 Nora hesitated, ther; sent the desired permission, and 
 immediately seemed to regret it ; but it was too late to 
 change her mind, for the chaplain appeared on the 
 threshold, stretched out his hand to her, and looked 
 her kindly and earnestly in the eye. 
 
 Remembrance after remembrance connected with him 
 rushed upon her, and tears sprang to her eyes as she 
 said sadly, " You see me a rider, a circus-rider, after 
 all." She threw herself on the sofa, and covered her 
 face with her hands. 
 
 " God be thanked for these tears," replied the chap- 
 lain, laying his hand on her head. " My poor child, I 
 thank God that it is such a sacrifice to you. Yesterday 
 I feared that you were reconciled to it." 
 
 " Would to God I were !" cried Nora bitterly. 
 " Would that it were no sacrifice ; would that I could 
 forget the past, and only remember that now I have 
 wealth, admiration, beauty, adulation ! Why, oh why, 
 do I cling to the old thoughts ? Now you come to re- 
 call those thoughts, to renew the struggle. I wanted
 
 222 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 to ask you not to come, to leave me in peace. Oh, 
 why did you come ?" 
 
 " Why did I come ? To keep a promise made to a 
 dying mother to be a friend and adviser to her child. 
 Would to God that I had come before she took a step 
 so disastrous to herself and to others !" 
 
 " It was not disastrous to others," interrupted Nora. 
 " They soon found it easy to forget and to despise." 
 
 " No one knows what another felt and suffered. Pos- 
 sibly he has been as cruelly deceived as you. Possibly 
 all is destined to lead you to the goal." 
 
 " The goal can never be reached," she cried piteously. 
 
 " Not the one for which we hoped, but that to which 
 all ways may lead ; through the path of sacrifice, which 
 is God's providence." 
 
 " Do you think the career on which I have entered is 
 particularly conducive to such a result?" she asked 
 scornfully. 
 
 " There is no career which cannot be sanctified," re- 
 plied the chaplain, in the same unruffled tone. " Yes, 
 the greater the temptation the greater the merit." 
 
 " Do you consider it an easy thing to overcome temp- 
 tation ?'■' she cried obstinately. "Look there," and 
 she pointed to the floral offerings of the preceding night 
 — " look there !" and she crushed the heap of perfumed 
 notes and threw them from her. " Do you think that 
 all this makes no impression on the mind, does not cor- 
 rupt the heart ? Do you believe that the ear can remain 
 deaf to applause and the heart always indifferent when 
 it has been robbed of all happiness ? Since my last
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 223 
 
 anchor was broken, since he showed me that he despised 
 me, my heart has sought reparation in what the world 
 offers, cost what it will ! Oh, I know that I shall retro- 
 grade. I shall learn to love and enjoy life as thousands 
 no better than I have done before me, as thousands 
 after me will do." 
 
 The priest did not argue with her. His deep knowl- 
 edge of the world taught him that he must not frighten 
 the already sorely wounded soul. 
 
 " Man's love at best," he said, " is but a poor anchor ; 
 but what makes you think that he despises you ?" 
 
 The blush deepened on her cheek ; she could not find 
 words to express what she desired to say ; she walked 
 over to the window, and pressed her forehead against 
 the pane. 
 
 " Do you ever hear from him ?" pursued the chaplain. 
 
 " Some weeks since I came in the express train from 
 Paris to a certain Austrian town. A gentleman who no 
 longer recognized me sat in the coupe with me," she 
 said, in a choked voice. 
 
 The chaplain started and said, " You travelled with 
 him ?" 
 
 Nora nodded and trembled. 
 
 This explained the cause of Curt's relapse. Should 
 he tell her the effect of this meeting ? Would it be 
 wise to thus awaken a dangerous hope in her bosom ? 
 Even above prudence stand out the truth and kindness 
 which may soothe the wounded heart, which does not 
 grudge the drop of healing balm, which will raise the 
 drooping spirit. This was the conviction which made
 
 224 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 the chaplain say, " Count Degenthal has been sick ever 
 since that journey, I am now on my way to see him, 
 for he is not able to leave his cousin's house." 
 
 Nora turned her head and gasped, " Dangerously 
 sick ?" 
 
 " It seems to be a relapse of his long sickness. The 
 doctor attributes it to nervousness for which he cannot 
 account." 
 
 " Relapse !" repeated Nora. " Of what sickness are 
 you speaking ?" 
 
 " Do you know nothing of it ?" 
 
 Nora shook her head and said, " I only knew that he 
 was abroad, attache to some legation." 
 
 " And you believed that he heard of the change with 
 indifference ? For three long years the announcement, 
 for which he was not prepared, threw him on a sick- 
 bed," said the priest, and then in his own quiet, clear 
 way he related all that had occurred. 
 
 Deathly pale Nora listened, and at the close ex- 
 claimed, " Oh, my God ! Sick and languishing all 
 those years !" 
 
 Sick and languishing on her account ! In her deep 
 sorrow she had thought only of herself, never of him ! 
 His delicate organization had suffered even more ex- 
 quisitely than she had. He whom she had come to 
 hate on account of his supposed indifference was broken 
 down in mind and body ! She now despised her own 
 youth and health and strength. 
 
 " Oh, good God, this is terrible !" she repeated. " I 
 would not have believed it."
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER, 225 
 
 " We are prone to be unjust when we allow sorrow 
 to master us, particularly if we believe ourselves 
 wronged." 
 
 " Father, father !" she cried, " it was not my fault. 
 You do not know what brought me to this, and my lips 
 refuse to lisp it. I wrote to Curt, confiding all to him. 
 Unheard he condemned me. My letter was returned 
 unopened without a word." 
 
 " Did he not read it ? Then he heard of your appear- 
 ance in public from other sources, and that embittered 
 him, for he confided in you implicitly ; hence, also, his 
 sickness. Nora, give me your confidence," pleaded the 
 good man earnestly. 
 
 " Yes, I will ; but it must be as sacred as the sacra- 
 mental secret, for it concerns others as well as myself." 
 
 She threw herself on her knees, as if to confess her 
 own guilt, and repeated all the occurrences of the un- 
 happy day when her father's life lay in the balance. 
 She told of the soul's agony which induced her vow. 
 
 The chaplain listened to her in silence. He had never 
 believed her frivolous or untrue, and had tried in vain 
 to find an explanation for her conduct, or grounds to ex- 
 cuse it. But the greatness of her sacrifice exceeded all 
 his imagination. He was filled with pity for the young 
 creature who had been capable of such heroic self-sacri- 
 fice, and had only reaped contempt. 
 
 " Have I done wrong? Oh, do not condemn me !" 
 she cried. " I destroyed my happiness with my own 
 hand." 
 
 " God forbid that I should judge you, my poor child,"
 
 226 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 said the priest earnestly. " May He direct me what to 
 counsel you. Your filial love and self-sacrifice sanctify 
 your resolution, and will bring God's blessing upon 
 you. Life has been harder for you than even mother- 
 love anticipated. You gave up all in order to save your 
 father." 
 
 "But have I saved him, have I saved him?" she 
 whispered. " That is the question that has troubled 
 me for some time. Oh, I cannot mention what now 
 oppresses me, even though I have tried to close my 
 eyes to many things, to accept life as light and super- 
 ficial, for thought is agonizing. Landolfo is my father's 
 evil spirit, and exercises complete control over him. 
 My father is no more what he was," she said, with 
 burning cheeks. " This life is corrupting every one. 
 Perhaps if I had not made this sacrifice, he would have 
 been forced to give it up." 
 
 " You did what you believed to be right. That justi- 
 fies us before God and our own conscience. Do not 
 trouble yourself about this. We cannot foresee. But 
 now that your father's circumstances are so much im- 
 proved, could you not withdraw ?" 
 
 " No, no ; he says that I am necessary to his fortune. 
 Landolfo, I fear, will so arrange it that I never can re- 
 tire. He sets everything against me." 
 
 " Against you ? He cannot set your father against his 
 darling. Are you not well treated ?" asked the chap- 
 lain. 
 
 " I do not mean that," she replied, with a sad smile. 
 " Every one treats me well ; every one spoils me ; every
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 227 
 
 one flatters me. I am necessary. But he whom I 
 named has personal plans on account of which he daily- 
 increases his influence over mj'' father. They cannot 
 conquer me !" she exclaimed, with flaming eye, " but 
 one plan is succeeded by another. You can hardly com- 
 prehend the intrigues in such a life as this. I would not 
 dare leave my father yet." 
 
 " Can you not be more explicit ?" asked the chaplain. 
 
 " No, no. It is like a ghost, ever reappearing." 
 
 " Nora," said the priest seriously, after several min- 
 utes' consideration, " fulfil your mission, hard though 
 it be. It is higher than personal happiness ; it will lead 
 you in perilous paths. Keep your heart pure, and no 
 danger will overcome you. You will be the guardian 
 spirit of your father, and grace will not be wanting to 
 you. Is it not the providence of God that has sent me 
 here ? Has He not sent you consolation in explaining 
 away much that threatened to overpower your soul and 
 poison your sacrifice ? Go on firm and strong, but do 
 not barter your birthright for vanity and worldly am- 
 bition." 
 
 " But how long, how long ? Shall I not weaken and 
 fail ?" she sighed. 
 
 As long as God wills. He can in a moment accom- 
 plish what seems to us impossible," said the priest, 
 rising. 
 
 Nora also arose, and placing her hand in his, said, 
 " Yes, it was the providence of God that sent you. I 
 stand on the brink of a precipice ; pray that I may not 
 fall."
 
 228 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 At that moment there was a knock on the door, and 
 the director entered. " Oh, you have visitors !" he 
 said, with apparent astonishment. " Why, your rever- 
 ence, what kind chance sends you to us ? It is a pleasure 
 to see you." He reached out his hand, but there was a 
 tone in his voice and a manner to his welcome that 
 belied his words. 
 
 The chaplain found Karsten changed ; his figure had 
 grown stouter, his features were bloated, his eyes were 
 weary and restless ; even his step had lost its elasticity. 
 Nora explained to her father the reason of the chaplain's 
 presence, which reminded the latter that it was time for 
 him to start on his journey. 
 
 " I fear that this meeting has over-excited you, my 
 child," said the director suspiciously ; and turning to 
 the visitor, he continued, " All has turned out as older 
 heads anticipated. Young people must learn by experi- 
 ence. My daughter is now very happy, and has no 
 doubt told you that her life is not so hard as it at first 
 seemed. Was I no't right in saying that she would be 
 a success ? Could any one have a greater triumph than 
 she had last night ?" 
 
 " The Emperor of Russia was a true prophet," an- 
 swered the chaplain. 
 
 " Yes, yes. She has quite thrown her old father in 
 the shade," said the director, with a loud laugh. 
 " Nora, I don't know how many bouquets are awaiting 
 you in Russia. She is my staff and pride, but a spoiled 
 princess." He put his arm around her and drew her to 
 him.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 229 
 
 A certain hesitation in the director's voice and flushed 
 spots on his cheeks gave the chaplain a suspicion which 
 would have grown to a certainty had he known that he 
 had just breakfasted with Landolfo. After deep 
 draughts of good sherry, the latter informed Karsten of 
 the clergyman's visit, and recommended him to interrupt 
 it before his daughter's head was filled with nonsense. 
 
 These little breakfasts, always at the director's ex- 
 pense, had become rather frequent lately, and generally 
 with the same result. Nora's uneasiness at Landolfo's 
 growing and evil influence over her father was only too 
 well grounded. It extended not only to a complete 
 control of the business ; he took every means of making 
 himself agreeable to Karsten, and encouraged an in- 
 clination toward drinking which had developed in the 
 latter since his sickness. Decreasing bodily strength 
 and inability to bear much excitement seem to call for 
 stimulants, which makes the years at the close of middle 
 life dangerous to some men in particular. 
 
 " The prince called to inquire for you, Nora, and to 
 invite you to a little excursion," said Karsten, in the 
 same tones. 
 
 I thank him, father, but I hope you told him that 
 I never accept such invitations." 
 
 But you certainly can go accompanied by your 
 parents. I trust, your reverence, that you are not going 
 to make a nun of my little daughter." 
 
 " I agree with Miss Nora in this matter," said the 
 priest. " A young lady in her position cannot be too 
 careful."
 
 230 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Bah, bah ! do not put such things in her head, rev- 
 erend sir ; she is already haughty enough. She will be 
 my ruin." 
 
 " Father, if you really mean this," said Nora, very 
 quietly, " I am quite ready to retire. You know well 
 that I am not in love with the calling, and can easily 
 find another." 
 
 " You see how independent our princess has grown," 
 muttered her father, patting her cheeks. " She knows 
 we could not spare her ; but, my daughter, do not place 
 your father in such a predicament," he pleaded in a 
 maudlin voice. 
 
 Nora, to whom the whole scene was inexpressibly dis- 
 agreeable, reached out her hand to the chaplain, saying 
 sadly, " I fear we are detaining }^ou from those who are 
 longing for your presence. I thank j'^ou sincerely for 
 your visit, which has done me so much good. Do not 
 be afraid that I shall again be tempted to be unsubmis- 
 sive." 
 
 " God will help you. Perhaps what I have told you 
 will add to your suffering, but it will be a shield to save 
 you from worse." 
 
 " And it shall not be in vain ; to-day you have armed 
 me anew," she replied, with a firm pressure of the 
 hand. 
 
 The chaplain turned away, overcome by his feelings. 
 She appeared to him more cruelly orphaned than when 
 a little child. 
 
 The director seemed troubled, and repeated, throw- 
 ing himself into a chair, " Do not make her a nun."
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 23I 
 
 When the chaplain left the room, Nora followed him, 
 and with trembling lips said, " But one word. Let ine 
 know how you find him. Do not speak to him of me ; 
 he could not bear it, and it would be useless." 
 
 A kind hand-shake and a nod of assent were the 
 priest's only answer ; but as he walked slowly away, he 
 pondered on the resignation and heroism which are 
 possible to a true woman's heart, that out of pure love 
 prefers to be forgotten rather than inflict pain on the 
 beloved. 
 
 The knowledge of having been mourned made Nora 
 heroic.
 
 232 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 LILY'S joy at once more seeing her cousin was 
 sliort-lived. His illness became so alarming that 
 she called a doctor, and telegraphed to her aunt. The 
 countess arrived next day, and the reunion after so 
 many years of separation was indeed sad. Her son's 
 pale face, emaciated figure, and weary look were all 
 evidences of the shock his constitution had received. 
 
 Was she not filled with remorse as she sat for hours 
 by her son's bedside, while he lay with closed eyes, too 
 tired to be able to listen to her talk, too indifferent to 
 ask about home, too cold and reserved to return her 
 tenderness, or to give her his confidence ? It seemed 
 as if his young heart was ice-bound and frozen. 
 
 She was not one to grieve over what was past. She 
 had done only what she had believed to be her duty, 
 forgetting that there is no duty so easily performed as 
 that which is self-imposed. She flattered herself that 
 "the climate, the intrigues of others, and her son's own 
 weakness were responsible for his sickness. She solaced 
 herself with the thought of how necessary it would be 
 to influence him, how dangerous to leave him to him- 
 self, and how careful she must be to prevent the awaken- 
 ing of old recollections. 
 
 Every one but the chaplain was at a loss to account 
 for Curt's relapse, and as the latter remained so re-
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 233 
 
 served, he was, of course, silent. He intimated to the 
 countess that there were things which it was better to 
 leave to time than to try to combat. 
 
 It was September before any sign of recovery could 
 be noticed in Curt. The autumn's sun shone with the 
 summer's glow, without its heat, over the green lawn 
 and the flowery parterre on which the " summer parlor" 
 of Lily's castle opened. It was an ideal resting-place 
 for the weary invalid. The graceful pillars, the solid 
 walls of the castle, the urns of rare plants which orna- 
 mented the terrace and almost changed it into a flowery 
 paradise, the landscape, with its foreground of luxurious 
 meadows and views of hill and forest — all combined to 
 make the " summer parlor" a delight and a comfort. 
 
 Since he had left his sick-bed, Curt spent many hours 
 in this fairy bower in an apparently half-dreamy state. 
 This outward appearance of quiet, however, served but 
 to conceal the inner torrnents of his soul, which the 
 accidental meeting with Nora had awakened. It was a 
 ceaseless ebb and flow of feelings — the reawakened 
 love, the desire to crush it out, the regret which would 
 come, the doubt whether he had done right or not to 
 have condemned her without hearing. . Physical weak- 
 ness made clear thought impossible. Rest, rest was 
 what he craved, and he would have almost accepted 
 annihilation to find rest and forgetfulness ; but forget- 
 fulness does not come at our bidding — yea, the more 
 we crave it the farther it flies. Of all those about him, 
 Lily distressed him the least, and he was more at ease 
 with her than with any of the rest of the household.
 
 234 "^THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 She looked on him as the long-absent one for whom 
 she had longed, the invalid for whose life she trembled, 
 and whose recovery she hailed with a delight she could 
 hardly conceal. To see him under her own roof and 
 to minister to his comforts stirred her naturally lethargic 
 nature. Lily's presence did not detract from the charm 
 of the terrace ; her fresh complexion and fair hair 
 showed to advantage in the daylight, while in the even- 
 ing, in the drawing-room, she seemed uninteresting and 
 dull. The plain, every-day dress of the housewife suited 
 her better than the adornments of society. By degrees 
 Curt came to the conclusion that his little cousin had 
 improved during his absence ; her figure had grown 
 slighter and her face less round, and when she laughed 
 two becoming dimples appeared ; and since his return 
 Lily often laughed in her quiet way. He observed her 
 with growing interest as she busied herself with little 
 household cares or wandered among her flower-beds 
 or listened to the petitions of her poor, duties which, 
 by the way, seemed to call her very much in the neigh- 
 borhood of the terrace, possibly because she did not 
 wish to neglect her watchfulness over her guest. When 
 Curt called her from this busy round of cares she 
 obeyed with happy alacrity, and her little commonplace 
 remarks did not excite him. In his present state of 
 physical and mental weariness he dreaded all excite- 
 ment, and with the security of youth, he believed that 
 all interest in life was dead to him. With returning 
 strength the life of Gohlitz grew more endurable to 
 him. The presence of the countess supplied all neces-
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 235 
 
 sary chaperonage, and Curt's return from his travels 
 brought some of his old friends to visit him. 
 
 On one particular day a pleasant party was collected 
 on the terrace, some of the neighbors and some of Curt's 
 friends, who had arrived from the city by train, the 
 captain of the horse, whom the chaplain had met at the 
 circus, being of the number. It was one of those days 
 when the sun shines brightest, and every one appears 
 at his best. The young hostess, with a blue veil 
 thrown over her yellow locks, looked like a pretty flax 
 blossom. Those wonderful beautifiers, love and happi- 
 ness, gave her an animated expression which was un- 
 usual to her, and as she sat beneath a luxuriant olean- 
 der-tree, surrounded by the young men of the party, 
 she accepted their homage with the cool indifference of 
 one whose affections were already engaged. Curt must 
 be pardoned if he could not but notice that her most 
 frequent glances were for him ; where is the man whose 
 vanity is not flattered by being singled out of a crowd 
 of admirers ? With the easy confidence of cousinship. 
 Curt sat next the little hostess, his arm resting on the 
 back of her chair, and his fingers toying with the band 
 which bound her hair ; he spoke with unusual warmtli 
 and fluency, calling an expression to his face which was 
 very becoming. 
 
 " All offering allegiance ?" said the chaplain, as he 
 joined the party. 
 
 Lily looked at him joyously. 
 
 " Oho ! reverend sir," exclaimed the captain, in his 
 most jovial voice ; " you cannot blame us, when
 
 236 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 you yourself so lately paid allegiance to youth and 
 beauty." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" asked the priest, very much 
 astonished. 
 
 " Now, now," continued the other, "just remember ; 
 there was no time to stay with poor us — just starting on 
 a journey — and the next thing a card is sent to the beauty 
 of beauties. You did not suspect that I was standing 
 near you at the hotel when you asked for her address. 
 I hope that in your priestly zeal you did not preach her 
 too severe a sermon. The Karsten circus would be 
 nothing without the brilliant Nora." 
 
 " Oh, you allude to my recent visit to Miss Nora 
 Karsten?" said the chaplain, annoyed by the untimely 
 jest. " Yes, yes ; I hunted her up, for I have known 
 her since her childhood." 
 
 Curt shrank back ; Lily's hair-band fell from his 
 fingers ; then he leaned back in his chair, to all appear- 
 ance perfectly indifferent. 
 
 The countess, who was sitting near the group, raised 
 her head and looked as if she could not believe her ears. 
 
 " Every one must acknowledge," continued the cap- 
 tain, without the slightest suspicion of the excitement 
 he was creating, " that nothing can surpass her on horse- 
 back. Degenthal, she has not her equal in equestrian- 
 ism. Did you ever come across her in your trav- 
 els?" 
 
 " No," replied Curt laconically. 
 
 " Oh, well, you positively must run up to the city ; 
 it is well worth the trouble. In the character of Libussa
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 237 
 
 she is a grand success ; even his reverence here was 
 quite enthusiastic." 
 
 " Not so much enthusiastic as deeply sympathetic," 
 said the chaplain. " Fate has compelled her to adopt 
 this career. She was educated for different things." 
 
 " Curt," said the countess, interrupting the conversa- 
 tion, " it is growing cold, you must not remain out 
 longer ; had you not better go in ?" 
 
 The young man did not, answer, but neither did he 
 follow the advice ; he took his straw hat and drew it so 
 low that his expression could not be seen. 
 
 Not to be diverted from his subject, the captain con- 
 tinued, "Why fate? She is the daughter of a circus 
 director — nothing more natural than that she should fol- 
 low the career ; but I have heard that her conduct is 
 irreproachable. 
 
 " It is reported that she is engaged to her father's 
 manager," said one of the other gentlemen. 
 
 " Yes, and it is also said that it was out of love for 
 him that she appears in public," added some one 
 else. 
 
 " I believe that to be a malicious rumor," said the 
 chaplain decidedly. 
 
 " It is positively asserted that she had an early love 
 affair, but I forget the particulars," continued the 
 captain. 
 
 " There are always many stories of that nature in cir- 
 culation, but without foundation," answered the priest ; 
 " and, as I said before, I regret exceedingly that the 
 lady has taken this step ; but there are circumstances
 
 238 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 which it is very hard to control. She has my honest 
 respect." 
 
 " Curt," called out the countess impatiently, " it is 
 very imprudent of you to remain out ; the autumn fogs 
 are very dangerous. How can you expect to recover, 
 when you are so imprudent ?" 
 
 " I see no necessity for going in," he replied, rising 
 and going to the door of the parlor, where he stood as 
 if determined to hear all. 
 
 " I used to know Nora Karsten very well," said Lily ; 
 " and, furthermore, I loved her dearly. We were at the 
 same school. I could not believe it when I heard that 
 she had appeared in public, and I am sure the chaplain 
 is right when he says that only some unfortunate cir- 
 cumstance drove her to it. Has her father lost his for- 
 tune ?" 
 
 " It does not look so, countess ; the proceeds from the 
 circus seem to increase every year." 
 
 " What, then, can it be ? Poor Nora !" said Lily 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " If she has been educated as you say, countess, it is 
 indeed sad," remarked an old gentleman. "Associ- 
 ating with the members of the troupe alone must be 
 unbearable." 
 
 " Poor Nora !" replied Lily, and at the same moment 
 she met the troubled look of her aunt, who was gazing 
 at her son ; and supposing that she understood the cause 
 of her evident alarm, said, " I think we are all doing 
 very wrong to remain out-doors. Come, Curt, it is 
 more comfortable inside."
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 239 
 
 The company entered the house at the suggestion of 
 their young hostess, but they did not find the change 
 at all more comfortable. The former mirth seemed to 
 have given way to a general depression. With increas- 
 ing anxiety the countess went nearer to her son, who 
 had thrown himself in a chair, looking pale and weary, 
 and the visitors hastened their departure, fearing to tire 
 the convalescent. 
 
 As the captain was going away, Lily asked him in a 
 low voice if the circus was still in the city. 
 
 " So far as I know there has been no announcement 
 of their departure ; but I shall inquire and let you know, 
 countess." 
 
 " No, no, thank you," replied Lily hurriedly, as she 
 saw her aunt observing her. 
 
 As soon as the guests had gone the countess ap- 
 proached the chaplain, and said to him excitedly, " My 
 dear chaplain, how could you be so imprudent as to 
 speak as you did, and revive such remembrances in my 
 son ?" 
 
 " I believe, countess, those remembrances have never 
 slept, and that they are the cause of his illness." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ; the climate was the cause of his ill- 
 ness. Now it is of the first importance to keep them 
 apart ; this was the only thing that reconciled me to 
 his long absence. I have been most careful to avoid 
 any approach to this subject." 
 
 " Madam, the greatest human efforts are but weak. 
 Count Curt and Nora Karsten have already met." 
 
 " In Heaven's name, how can that be ?"
 
 240 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Accidentally they travelled in the same railway car- 
 riage, and Curt's last relapse was the result of this meet- 
 ing. You may judge whether remembrance is dead or 
 sleeping." 
 
 " My God ! my God !" cried the countess. " Just 
 as I was beginning to have the greatest hopes that my 
 plans were succeeding to have him marry his cousin." 
 
 " Countess, it would be better to refrain from making 
 plans. Leave all things to Heaven to decide what is 
 best. You have nothing to fear from Nora; she has 
 resigned all claims on him." 
 
 " If you had only not contradicted what the gentle- 
 man said, and let Curt hear how she was spoken of." 
 
 " But, madam, it was untrue, and an untruth never 
 brings good," said the chaplain, in a kind but decided 
 voice. "Truth and justice demanded that I should 
 speak, for I am in possession of facts." 
 
 " But what made it necessary for you to renew the 
 acquaintance of this family ? I was so happy in believ- 
 ing that all was at an end." 
 
 " It was not a question of a visit, countess, but of the 
 salvation of a soul and of duty. I perceived that mis- 
 fortune and disappointment were placing the young 
 girl in great danger, and I wished by my presence to 
 save her and to keep my promise to her dying mother. 
 I hope that, with God's help, I have succeeded." 
 
 " At all events, she will continue now to ride. I always 
 prophesied that it would be so. Now, what are we to 
 do for my poor son ?" 
 
 "Do nothing," said the priest with authority. "I
 
 THE CIRCUS rider's DAUGHTER. 241 
 
 fear too much has already been done. It has cost the 
 health of your son and the happiness of this poor girl. 
 We are apt by misdirected zeal to fall from one evil into 
 a greater."
 
 242 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 WOULD he never more have rest ? This was Curt's 
 thought during the long night, as he tossed about 
 restlessly ; in the morning as he arose, tired and weary ; 
 in his easy-chair, as he sat silent and alone. The fresh 
 autumn breeze brought no relief to his brow. Since 
 the memorable conversation of yesterday his thoughts 
 were in a whirl of trouble which he could not appease ; 
 every word he had heard burned into his soul. The 
 flippant way in which her name was used, and the de- 
 fence, the respect, and the tender pity of the priest alike 
 woke doubts of the justice of his own conduct. He 
 heard the chaplain speak of a cruel fate of which she 
 had spoken. What was it ? Had he not, perhaps, sent 
 back the explanation unopened ? Had he not con- 
 demned her unheard ? What was to prevent him now 
 from going and finding out the reason of what had 
 passed ? Would such an explanation excuse her for 
 having killed love and broken her word just as he had 
 given her proof of his constancy ? When he thought 
 of the moment that he held her clasped in his arms, he 
 could have cried out to see himself so deceived. Then 
 he swore never to let her name pass his lips, and never 
 to ask an explanation. He pressed his hand to his tem- 
 ples, as if to repress all thought. 
 
 A slight noise made him raise his head, and he saw
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 243 
 
 Lily standing before him. He aroused himself, de- 
 termined not to allow any one to witness his trouble ; 
 he welcomed his cousin cordially. 
 
 She sat opposite him, and was evidently absorbed in 
 some thought which she found difficulty in expressing. 
 At length she said, in. a disjointed manner, " Curt, 
 would you kindly — would you this afternoon kindly 
 accompany me for a couple of hours on a little journey, 
 which I would like to make with you, but without your 
 mamma ?" 
 
 He looked more astonished than pleased, and said, 
 " On a little journey with you ? You know, dear child, 
 how everything tires me. Where is it to ?" 
 
 His manner yesterday would perhaps have given her 
 reason t6 expect a more friendly reception ; her coun- 
 tenance showed plainly her chagrin. 
 
 " I thought that a drive in the open air would do you 
 good," she said ; " but if it would tire you so much' — " 
 and she prepared to leave him. 
 
 It is hard for a man to refuse the first request of one 
 who has been his kind hostess and faithful nurse for 
 several weeks. Curt saw that her feelings were wound- 
 ed, and regretted his ungracious answer. The only 
 reparation in his power was to assure her that he was 
 ready to be her attendant knight. 
 
 Lily's go*od-humor w^as quickly restored, and she did 
 not take long to take him at his word. 
 
 " The journey will do you good," she said, " and you 
 must promise to do all I ask you, and as I wish. I shall 
 explain later. I take your mamma's approval for
 
 244 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 granted, so as to avoid her disapproval — that is, if you 
 make no objections, Curtie." 
 
 He made no objections, and having once given con- 
 sent, did not wish to give the question any more con- 
 sideration. 
 
 The countess was somewhat surprised at the mysteri- 
 ous projects of her niece, with whom she did not always 
 agree on questions of propriety. She would not on any 
 account interfere with anything which tended to bring 
 the cousins together, so she all the more now gave her 
 consent. Lily's plans were always so far removed from 
 any extravagance, that there could be no harm in what 
 she proposed. Like most quiet people, Lily generally 
 carried her point. 
 
 " Now you shall know your destination," she said to 
 Curt, who, to her great annoyance, showed very little 
 curiosity. " We are going to Vienna — not by rail, that 
 would be a pity in such beautiful weather ; and the 
 horses can make it in a couple of hours. This will bring 
 us where I want to go, and leave us an hour. I shall 
 send the carriage back, with orders to meet us at the 
 station. Driving in the evening air would not be good 
 for you, so we shall return by train, which takes only a 
 quarter of an hour, bringing us home in good time. 
 Have I not planned all well ?" 
 
 Curt could only bow his assent. The easy motion 
 and the soft air lulled him into a kind of half sleep, in 
 which his companion's uninteresting conversation was 
 not very clear. 
 
 At the end of two hours they arrived at their destina-
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 245 
 
 tion, and the horses drew up before Lily's town house. 
 The house steward officiously opened the rooms, which 
 always stood in readiness for the young mistress. 
 
 It was the first time that Curt had visited the city 
 since his return from the East, and memory crowded 
 on memory as he sat alone, while Lily gave directions 
 to the servants. When she re-entered the drawing- 
 room, the steward handed her tickets. After examining 
 them attentively, she said, " Now, Curtie, if you are 
 rested, let us go." 
 
 He looked absently at the tickets which she held in 
 her hand and offered her his arm. The recollections 
 which filled his mind prevented him thinking seriously 
 on Lily' s business. " Probably, ' ' he thought, " she wants 
 to make some purchases as a surprise for some one." 
 The last time he was here was the day on which he had 
 met Nora, when she pleaded so earnestly with him not 
 to go away. Were her forebodings prophetic ? Would 
 not things have been different had he remained near 
 her, and not left her so unprotected ? 
 
 " Here we are," said Lily, stopping before one of the 
 hotels. " There is some one I want to speak to. Will 
 you please enter with me, and then leave and come 
 for me in half an hour ?" 
 
 " Can I allow this ?" questioned Curt, rather aston- 
 ished. " I think, in the character of a jealous cousin, I 
 must forbid such a meeting." 
 
 " Cousins have no such right," Lily answered gayly. 
 " When I explain all to you later, you will give your 
 approval. Be kind enough to come for me in half an
 
 246 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 hour; I shall be ready." She looked at him implor- 
 ingly. 
 
 At the appointed time he saw Lily's blue veil ap- 
 proaching, and hastened to meet her. 
 
 "Well, is the conspiracy working?" he asked jest- 
 ingly ; but looking closer at her face, he saw unmistak- 
 able traces of tears. " What is the matter, Lily ?" he 
 added anxiously. Notwithstanding the moist eyes, she 
 looked at him smilingly, took his arm, and walked on 
 in silence. 
 
 " Now I shall explain all to you," she said, after a 
 while. " It was very good of you to do as I asked of 
 you without any questions. I have called on Nora 
 Karsten." 
 
 Curt stood as if electrified, then exclaimed in cold, 
 hard tones, " Nora Karsten at the circus ?" 
 
 " Yes, Nora Karsten. Do you find that so improper? 
 You are aware that I knew her at school. I loved her 
 most of all, for she was so good and pious and kind. 
 She saved me from many a penance, and consoled me 
 in my homesickness. Hundreds of times have I prom- 
 ised her that I would never forget her. Would it be 
 right in me to refuse to recognize her because she is 
 obliged to become a circus-rider ? Probably her father 
 insisted on her following his career. When I heard 
 yesterday that she was here for a short stay, I deter- 
 mined to visit her. Who knows when I shall again 
 have the opportunity ? I thought it would do her good 
 to see that people still loved and respected her. I think 
 it is contemptible to abandon people in misfortune.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 247 
 
 M}'- aunt would not have consented to my visit had I 
 asked her, and you would have thought that you must 
 make objections. I was right, was I not, Curtie ?" she 
 asked, as she tried lo see his face, which was bowed 
 low. What could be the matter, that he was so moved ? 
 
 " Yes," he said finally, in a weary voice, "you were 
 right. God bless your courage ! If you have done 
 wrong, it was in a noble cause." 
 
 " Oh, I am so glad you are not angry, Curt. I don't 
 care what my aunt thinks, but if you had disapproved 
 of it, it would have grieved me. Nora is, as the chap- 
 lain said, as good and pious as ever, and you can have 
 no idea of her beauty. Her pleasure at seeing me was 
 touching ; but I do not believe she is happy. She 
 could not answer me for crying. Just think, she has 
 to ride every day. It is terrible ! I could not look at 
 her. I told her that you had accompanied me, for she 
 inquired for )^ou and my aunt. You remember when 
 we travelled in Switzerland you knew her as a little 
 child. But she would not allow me to call you." 
 
 All this Lily repeated breathlessly, for the success of 
 her undertaking made her eloquent. She could have 
 still run on, but Curt heard no more ; he seemed bewil- 
 dered. Again Nora was crossing his path unsought. 
 Was this the outcome of his mental struggle, and should 
 he once more let the opportunity pass ? 
 
 Arrived at the house, he said in a hurried manner, 
 " Can you remain here alone a little while ? I saw in 
 the street an old acquaintance to whom I want to 
 speak. We have still two hours to spare."
 
 248 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 "Certainly," said Lily, "but do not let us be late 
 for the train." Curt ran down the stairs and out into 
 the street, as if he feared giving himself time to change 
 his mind. What did he intend to do ? He scarcely 
 knew himself. The only clear idea was that he must 
 not let the opportunity pass. 
 
 " Count Degenthal !" cried Nora, a little later, as he 
 stood before her in the most passionate excitement — 
 " Count Degenthal ! You have no right to come here !" 
 She tried to rise haughtily, but fell back trembling. 
 
 " No right !" he repeated, advancing to her and tak- 
 ing her hand in an iron grasp. " Who has robbed me 
 of the right ? Who has thrown the most self-sacrificing 
 love in my face ? Who has been disloyal to the most 
 sacred promises out of miserable cowardice or still more 
 miserable vanity ? Nora, I want to hate you !" and he 
 flung away the hand he held. 
 
 " Curt, Curt, you do not believe what you say ! You 
 know that love was my only happiness," she sobbed in 
 agony. 
 
 " That love, that love !" he repeated mockingly, 
 " that love which could not bear the first trial." 
 
 These harsh words seemed to restore Nora's former 
 pride. She rose, deathly pale but resolute ; her lips 
 trembled, but she said distinctly, " You have no right 
 to condemn me, for I confided all to you, and you 
 would not hear me." 
 
 The reproach struck him, and as she stood there, so 
 lovely, so pure, no stain on her brow, her clear eye 
 looking him straight in the face, the old love returned.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 249 
 
 and he cried, " Nora, Nora, why did you do it ? 
 Do you know what I suffered ? Look at me ; do you 
 recognize me ? In what have I deserved this treatment 
 from you ?" 
 
 " Forgive me, forgive me," she besought, as she threw 
 her hands over her face. " Oh, my God ! It was not 
 my fault ; it was a frightful sacrifice ! Oh, why was 
 not my life and not thine the price !" 
 
 " Do you believe my life is worth living, Nora, since 
 that hour in which my idol fell ? Nora, Nora, tell 
 me !" He stopped as if unable to say more, drew her 
 to him, and dragged her hands from her face. His 
 eyes fairly glared on her, as though he would read her 
 through and through. 
 
 " Too late, too late !" she whispered. " Oh, Curt, 
 had you but been here !" 
 
 Her head sank on his shoulder, and she burst into 
 tears as she threw her arms around his neck. 
 
 " I am here now, Nora, I am here now," he said, 
 overwhelmed by her grief and pressing his lips to her 
 bent head. " Now all can be changed ; it is never too 
 late for love." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; too late, too late ! The waves have closed 
 above my head. Even you cannot save me. What is 
 done cannot be undone. You have said that that hour 
 trailed me in the dust. I know it. Now I am unworthy 
 of your love ; now I could not accept it. Go, Curt, 
 leave me. Oh, why did you come ?" 
 
 " To obtain what I now demand. My heart has 
 known no rest since chance so wonderfully brought us
 
 350 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 together, and when I again lost you. Now I will have 
 an explanation ; no secret intrigue shall again separate 
 us. You know that you were all, all to me, and in spite 
 of all that man can do I shall make you mine. Nora, 
 speak." 
 
 " No, no, you cannot. It is too late ;" she tore her- 
 self from his arms, and said almost breathlessly, " Some 
 one is coming. Oh, that terrible man ! Go, you shall 
 know all ; but now go. Curt — go." 
 
 " Why ?" asked Curt ; but there was a knock at the 
 door, and at the same moment it was opened. 
 
 Landolfo entered, and a cunning smile overspread his 
 countenance as he looked at the pair. 
 
 " Count Degenthal," he said, with a mocking bow. 
 " Miss Nora, I have come for you ; it is time for you to 
 appear." 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; my father always comes for me." 
 
 " Your father sent me for you. Had I known that 
 you were in such agreeable company, I would not have 
 dared to disturb you," he said, laying particular stress 
 on agreeable company. " Probably your appearance can 
 be excused if I mention to your father — " He stood 
 near her, as if by right, and looked at Curt with im- 
 pudent inquisitiveness. 
 
 " I will go myself to my father," replied Nora with 
 dignity. " Count Degenthal, I fear we must now part." 
 
 She gave him her hand, which he clasped in his own, 
 saying, " I shall go, for my time also is up ; but, Nora, 
 I shall return, when everything shall be explained. 
 Look for me in a few days."
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 251 
 
 He emphasized the words as if strengthening his own 
 resolution, and at the same time impressing it on the 
 man still standing there. 
 
 Landolfo answered by a disagreeable, ominous smile, 
 which Nora did not seem to notice ; but there was a 
 weary doubt in her tones as she repeated, "In a few 
 days." 
 
 Curt hastened out, and threw himself into a cab. 
 Although he had had no explanation, it seemed to him 
 that a load was removed from his heart. He had seen 
 her, spoken with her, and crossed the abyss which had 
 separated her from him. He had read in her coun- 
 tenance that unfortunate circumstances alone had forced 
 her to decide as she had ; she had called it a sacrifice, 
 and he was convinced that a false sense of duty had 
 alone influenced her. 
 
 Should he allow her to be torn from him because she 
 had not had strength to overcome the circumstances ? 
 The old feeling of boyhood, that he must be her pro- 
 tector, returned. Love overcame every other feeling. 
 Yes ; in a few days he would return. Only those who 
 have known the agony of doubt can understand his 
 feelings. 
 
 He returned to his cousin, but did not find her alone. 
 A broad-shouldered man in travelling costume, holding 
 a Panama hat in his hand, was sitting by her, and he 
 turned around as Curt entered. 
 
 Dahnow," cried the latter, stretching out his hand, 
 " old friend, where did you come from ?" 
 
 " Come back to European civilization from a little
 
 252 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 three years' trip," said he, grasping the outstretched 
 hand. " I intended to hunt you up before returning to 
 my northern home, when I had given certain learned 
 authorities here the benefit of my remarkable investiga- 
 tions. My inquiries after you and your family led to 
 the discovery of your presence, and Countess Lily has 
 had the goodness to receive me graciously. Now you 
 have my cnriculum vita. I never had very exhilarating 
 news from you, old fellow — heard that you were sick ; 
 but now you seem quite recovered," said Dahnow, sur- 
 prised at Curt's flushed cheeks and bright eyes. 
 
 " Curt," inquired Lily anxiously, " do you feel fever- 
 ish ? Has the ride been too much for you ? I shall 
 never forgive myself if it has." 
 
 " Do not be uneasy, little cousin," he replied, seating 
 himself by her on the sofa. " It was a grand idea of 
 yours. I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed every- 
 thing, and how grateful I am to you, and all the day 
 has done for me. No, I thank you," he added, putting 
 aside the cushion which she reached him, but taking 
 the hand that held it, and adding, " Dahnow, you do 
 not know what a dear hand this is, and what an amiable 
 soul she is. We men are barbarians." 
 
 Degenthal was reviewing in his mind Lily's loyal 
 friendship for Nora, and how it liad been the means of 
 his meeting the latter. Lily blushed, and withdrawing 
 her hand, said laughingly, " Do not talk such foolish- 
 ness." 
 
 " He seems very much in earnest, countess," said 
 Dahnow, looking at them both sliarply. " Ah ! it is
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDERS DAUGHTER. 253 
 
 my fate," thought Dahnow, "it is my fate. Here, 
 after three years, I come from the equator to find him 
 again love-making. Poor Nora seems to be forgotten ; 
 my letter did not bear much fruit. Well, perhaps this 
 is more sensible ; but I wonder what has become of 
 Nora." 
 
 Dahnow stood up to leave. To the urgent invitation 
 of Lily, he answered, " In a few days I shall come to 
 Gohlitz." Curt whispered to him, "Come soon, I 
 have something to tell you." 
 
 " As though I had not guessed it," was the reply. 
 
 " I thank God the ride has done you good," said 
 Lily, on their return home. " You seem strengthened. 
 We must be silent as to the cause of our journey. I 
 thank you for having accompanied me." 
 
 "It is I who should thank you," replied Curt. 
 "What you did to day is a proof of your good heart. 
 Lily, in a few days I shall tell you, and I shall count on 
 your loving support." He would have added more, 
 but Lily left him, evidently greatly excited.
 
 254 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 IN a few days ! It is pleasant to determine dates ; it 
 gives a feeling of command of time ; and yet afetv 
 days embraces as much uncertainty as the far future. 
 
 " In a few days !" thought Nora; and although she had 
 said, " It is too late !" her heart fluttered with expecta- 
 tion and joy. He had come ! He was coming again ! 
 His voice had trembled ! Had he at last understood ? 
 Had love prevailed ? Nora would not allow herself to 
 hope. Over and over again she determined to be 
 strong and not permit him to make any sacrifice for 
 her. But belief is so strong in the young heart that it 
 is ever ready with its suggestions of possibilities. One 
 thought filled Nora's heart with the purest joy. She 
 could open her whole heart to him. She had no reason 
 to shun his eye, and this made her tremble at the recol- 
 lection of what an abyss she had lately stood by. 
 
 " In a few days !" thought Curt, and he closed his ears 
 to all considerations which fear, pride, and distrust 
 whispered to him. After the first burst of emotion had 
 passed, he made up his mind that he would not allow 
 his love to be torn from him again. 
 
 " In a few days!" said Lily, as she laid her golden 
 locks on her pillow, and hardly dared express to her- 
 self all that she hoped for in the next few days. 
 " When he is once mine I shall nurse him back to good
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 255 
 
 health. He has grown better here," she said with 
 pride. Some women express the happiness of love by 
 ** when he is mine ;" others by " when I am his." A 
 slight but characteristic difference. Lily was one of 
 the former. 
 
 A few days after the trip of Curt and Lily to the city, 
 the whole populace seemed to awaken from a night- 
 mare, which, like all bits of scandal, was fed both by 
 genuine interest and mere curiosity. Concerning as it 
 did very well-known people, the matter in question 
 kept the public tongue busy. It began on the evening 
 of an especially advertised programme at the Karsten 
 circus. The audience was already assembled in large 
 numbers, when it was announced that there would be 
 no performance " on account of the sudden illness of 
 the director." The excitement among the members of 
 the troupe, and the absence of Landolfo, who always 
 represented the director, gave food for the wildest re- 
 ports. It was whispered that Herr Karsten had had a 
 stroke of apoplexy, caused by discovering the elopement 
 of his daughter, or, as others said, his wife, with his 
 manager. 
 
 The rumors took the wildest phases, from the gravest 
 tragedy to the most absurd commonplace, according to 
 the source. from which they sprung. Some insisted that 
 it was not the director's daughter but his wife who had 
 fled. This, however, found little credence on account 
 of the accepted relationship of the charming Nora to 
 the manager ; and besides, the wife's beauty was de- 
 cidedly on the wane.
 
 256 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 The daily papers were not behind in furnishing de- 
 tails ; and yet it was difficult to find cause for the elope- 
 ment, for, as far as could be learned, there was no 
 opposition to the engagement. Soon it was whispered 
 that the manager had been found guilty of heavy frauds. 
 
 Some particular admirers of the director and some 
 of those natural scandalmongers of which every city 
 has its share went to the hotel where Karsten and his 
 family stopped on a voyage of discovery. They failed 
 in their purpose, for the entire family kept the strictest 
 seclusion. The physician pronounced the director's 
 condition very critical, or, at all events, threatening to 
 be an illness of long duration. 
 
 As to the cause of the illness, the head steward 
 shrewdly shrugged his shoulders, and hinted that there 
 had lately been misunderstandings in the family. The 
 chambermaid told of a scene which had occurred be- 
 tween the director and his daughter, and then she and 
 the head steward smiled meaningly. The director was 
 reported to have been in the habit of indulging in heavy 
 breakfasts, which were trying to his constitution. If 
 the director was tired, Landolfo used to be a good deal 
 with the ladies. The porter remembered that on the 
 memorable day one of the ladies, veiled and in travel- 
 ling costume, came down-stairs with Landolfo, and en- 
 tered a cab with him. Landolfo had on several occa- 
 sions conducted the ladies to rehearsal. One evening 
 there was great excitement upstairs, and the physician 
 was called ; but ever since, as before mentioned, nothing 
 could be learned, the wife devoting herself completely
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 257 
 
 to the care of her husband and son, not calling on the 
 servants of the house for anything. 
 
 With these unsatisfactory details the newsmongers 
 were forced to retire. The whole affair would have 
 soon sunk into oblivion had not a new feature come to 
 light, which was of particular interest to the most ex- 
 clusive circles of society. One of the most universally 
 read papers had an article which explained the elope- 
 ment to its own satisfaction. It hinted at a three years 
 old love affair between the pretty Nora and a certain 
 well-known baron. The father of the lady had favored 
 the connection in spite of the opposition of the T) — t — al 
 family, who left nothing undone to save the young heir 
 from the net, even having him appointed to a distant 
 diplomatic position. The father had been instrumental 
 in arranging several meetings for the lovers. At length, 
 as the baron's family had succeeded in completely 
 breaking off the connection, it was decided to let the 
 young woman adopt a public career, and to cease oppo- 
 sition to her marriage with the manager. Either through 
 mortification at losing the noble suitor or through change 
 of purpose, the pretty Nora consented and became en- 
 gaged. After three years' absence Count D sud- 
 denly reappears, and declares anew his passion. The 
 father's desire to see his daughter occupy a higher 
 sphere awakens, and he dismisses his manager. The 
 latter, however, insisted on his rights, and fled with his 
 
 affianced. Count D had been seen in the hotel two 
 
 days before the elopement, and was surprised by Lan- 
 dolfo in an interview with his intended.
 
 258 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 The whole story was flavored with a mystery well 
 calculated to whet the appetites of the readers. The 
 probabilities and the improbabilities, even the incon- 
 sistencies of the fabrication, were second to the fact 
 that the name of one of the first families was mixed up 
 in it. 
 
 This ensured for it a field of conjecture, spite, and 
 condolence. 
 
 The elopement story and the sudden departure and 
 reappearance of Curt revived a rumor which had come 
 from the banks of the Rhine. Mothers who had looked 
 upon him as a desirable match now remembered his 
 indifference to ladies' society, which never augurs good. 
 The young men to whom he had been held up as a 
 model laughed over the outcome, and made merry over 
 Nora's supposed prudery. The older men put their 
 heads together and consulted as to what steps to take 
 when people offend society. 
 
 The world accepts readily and overlooks much as 
 long as it can ignore, but revenges in proportion when 
 it has to acknowledge. Many and various were the 
 judgments ; some sympathized with the mother, while 
 the lovers of scandal decided that there must be some 
 truth in the story. 
 
 The news fell like a thunderbolt on the family circle 
 at Gohlitz. The countess read of the elopement of 
 Nora and Landolfo, and expressed herself as not sur- 
 prised. She handed the paper to Lily, as a comment 
 on the opinions so lately expressed by her. The latter 
 was very much excited, and, with her never-failing
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 259 
 
 loyalty, exclaimed, "It is not true ; Nora is too 
 good." 
 
 " My child," said her aunt in an impressive man- 
 ner, " years of such surroundings would change any 
 one." 
 
 " But Nora is not changed," asserted the little friend. 
 " It is an indescribable trial to her that she is obliged 
 to follow this hateful career. It is only her love for 
 her father that induces her to do it." 
 
 " How do you know ?" questioned her aunt, fixing 
 her eyes upon her. 
 
 Lily's cheeks turned a deeper red, but, with a full 
 sense of her independence, she returned the look and 
 answered, " Because I have seen her and spoken to her 
 within a few days. It was for the express purpose of 
 seeing her that I took that long ride with Curt." 
 
 "With Curt? You took Curt to her?" asked the 
 countess, hardly above her breath, and the deathly pal- 
 lor which overspread her countenance frightened Lily, 
 who answered : 
 
 " Not to see her. I merely asked him to accompany 
 me, because I did not dare confide in Miss Richthoben, 
 It was only afterward that Curt knew whom I had vis- 
 ited, and he did not blame me." 
 
 "Did he meet her?" asked her aunt, somewhat re- 
 lieved. 
 
 No ; he escorted me to her residence without know- 
 ing, as I said, whom I wished to visit. I cannot see any 
 impropriety in going on a little drive with my cousin, 
 with whom I have been brought up, and appearing on
 
 26o THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 the street with him," said the little mistress of Gohlitz, 
 in her own decided manner, as she left her aunt. 
 
 The countess was silent ; she was glad that Lily was 
 sensitive on the point with which she had no intention 
 of finding fault. She began to fear that the chaplain 
 was right. Was all her management useless, and was 
 it out of her power to control this matter ? It seemed 
 impossible to save her son ; she would like to keep all 
 the gossip from him, in order not to awaken old mem- 
 ories ; but she thought it best to let facts open his eyes, 
 and serve as a corrective to the praises of Nora which 
 he had been hearing lately. With this object she sent 
 to her son's room the papers, where he could read for 
 himself. "A cauterized wound heals the quickest," 
 she said to herself. And, indeed, like a brand the news 
 burned into the soul of Curt. He stared at the papers, 
 and gnashed his teeth. He did not say with Lily, " It 
 is not true." Want of confidence, nursed through long 
 years, precluded this, and his love was mortally wound- 
 ed. He was not overpowered as in time gone by ; he 
 had grown used to sorrow and disappointment. Facts 
 stared him in the face, and dashed to pieces the new- 
 born hope and belief in her which had begun to return. 
 Deceived again, baffled again ! Was this, then, the 
 cause of her secrecy ? Was this the meaning of her 
 words, " Too late !" which he had heard from her own 
 lips ? He had seen this man enter her room as if he had 
 a right. He had noticed his cold smile and mocking 
 sneer as they parted. He recalled with what an expres- 
 sion of right this man had met her at the train. All
 
 THE CIRCUS rider's DAUGHTER. 261 
 
 was explained now ; for a truth she did not exaggerate 
 when she said that she " had sunken in the dust" if she 
 acknowledged the dominion of such a creature. As for 
 himself, he who had madly sworn to raise her, he who 
 had put aside all public opinion and his own principles 
 for her sake, was again betrayed. 
 
 He determined to hide all feeling of grief or humilia- 
 tion. It seemed to him that every one could read the 
 thoughts and actions of the last few days written on his 
 brow, and scorned his weakness. Above all, he feared 
 his mother's gaze. 
 
 When the countess inquired for her son, she was told 
 that some important dispatch had called him away ; 
 that he had gone on foot to the station, and would re- 
 turn or write in a few days. She was terrified, and 
 wondered if she had acted inconsiderately. Lily's head 
 drooped when she heard of her cousin's sudden depar- 
 ture. She wanted to make him the confidant of her 
 troubles on Nora's account. 
 
 Another trial awaited the countess. The old diplomat 
 appeared one day at Gohlitz with a serious coun- 
 tenance, and requested a conference. The man was 
 one who looked unpleasant things in the face. Every 
 article or even report which tended to make Curt's 
 name public was studied over by him. The countess 
 was perfectly helpless. Fate had indeed taken revenge 
 on her. She had left nothing undone to prevent those 
 two names being connected, and now she saw them 
 brought together into publicity in the commonest way. 
 She almost fainted as her old friend dwelt on each de-
 
 262 THE CIRCUS rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 tail, and was indignant when she read the papers. Her 
 natural pride prompted her not to believe it, but the 
 information gained from Lily left no shadow that Curt 
 was in the city that memorable day. She had to ac- 
 knowledge that at the first appearance of these articles 
 he had left, and she did not know his destination. She 
 was prepared for anything, and the old diplomat grew 
 graver and graver. He promised all the power of his 
 influence to hush the matter up, but he thought the 
 young baron was, to say the least, very imprudent. 
 
 " All this comes from the excursions of independent 
 young ladies," she said with evident irritation to her 
 niece, having given up all hope of being able to keep 
 the latter in ignorance of the universally discussed scan- 
 dal. In the bitterness of her mortification she did not 
 spare Lily's feelings, for she now looked on all as lost. 
 
 Lily listened to her aunt's words, and having read 
 the objectionable newspapers through, said quietly, 
 " But this is just as untrue as what they said about 
 Nora. Neither Curt nor Nora would have done these 
 things. Some one who wished to injure him has writ- 
 ten this. As soon as it comes to Curt's knowledge he 
 will, of course, deny it." 
 
 " God bless your little head," said the countess, im- 
 patient at the simple way in which Lily disposed of the 
 whole thing. She herself knew the world better, and 
 fully realized all the consequences. Her favorite 
 " What is to be done?" presented itself to her mind. 
 For the first time, Lily, too, had the same thought, in- 
 cited by both love and pride. So Curt loved Nora !
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 263 
 
 Was this the cause of all his unhappiness and his long 
 absence from his home, ail his depression ? But an un- 
 fortunate love affair always finds an echo in the true 
 girl's heart. Lily's admiration for Nora's beauty and 
 character made her understand Curt's sorrow, and the 
 natural prudence which was so marked in her made her 
 feel how impossible it would be for them ever to marry. 
 She immediately began to plan how she could alleviate 
 her cousin's grief and prevent him from again leaving 
 his home. 
 
 She decided that the chaplain was the best person to 
 apply to, as he knew both Curt and Nora so well, and 
 indeed she thought it probable that the former had 
 already gone to him. Each line of the letter that she 
 wrote the chaplain was full of thoughtfulness and sym- 
 pathy, while at the same time it betrayed the secret love 
 which inspired both. 
 
 As the wounded animal flies to the solitude of the 
 wilderness, so Curt sought to hide his sorrow in the 
 quiet of his home. He had to pass through Vienna, 
 and for a moment he was tempted to make inquiries 
 concerning the newspaper reports ; but no, they were 
 too minute to leave room for doubt, and there could be 
 no mistake concerning the movements of one so well 
 known as Nora. Why should he remain longer in 
 doubt ? Had not her own lips confessed that it was 
 " too late" ? It was only his own mad passion that 
 prevented him seeing it. What he had mistaken for 
 love and loyalty was but bitter repentance, perhaps the 
 last remnant of her former self.
 
 264 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 The retainers at the old castle were surprised at the 
 unannounced return of the young master, as they were 
 looking forward to his triumphant return with his 
 mother, after so long an absence, " entirely recovered," 
 as the countess's letters loved to describe him. They 
 all shrugged their shoulders and shook their heads as 
 they looked at his pale face and received his cold greet- 
 ing, Even to the chaplain he was reserved, and ac- 
 counted for his quiet home-coming by asserting his dis- 
 like for excitement. 
 
 The chaplain, who had heard nothing of what had 
 occurred, believed him suffering from a struggle with 
 his own feelings, and judged it best to leave him to 
 himself. 
 
 Curt spent hours alone in his room, or taking long 
 rides in the country. The neighbors shook their heads, 
 the servants wondered, and the chaplain began to doubt 
 his own judgment, when Lily's letter solved the ques- 
 tion for him. Although he placed as little credence as 
 Lily herself in the newspaper articles, he was shocked 
 beyond expression, and he knew enough of the world to 
 thoroughly understand the disagreeable results of such 
 sensational gossip. Deciding that it was time to speak, 
 he sought Curt in his room, taking with him the mail 
 which had just arrived. Curt looked over it indiffer- 
 ently, taking only one letter addressed in Dahnow's 
 well-known hand. He looked anxiously at the chap- 
 lain, in whose face he read that he was withholding 
 something. The latter handed him the offensive paper 
 and Lily's letter.
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 265 
 
 Curt read the article through, and then his pent-up 
 anger of days broke forth in a wild torrent of words, 
 and he threw the paper violently from him. 
 
 " It is all right," he said, with a bitter laugh. " No 
 one can touch pitch without being defiled. In my mad 
 love I mistook rotten wood for a precious stone. It 
 serves me right. He who walks with the low becomes 
 low. And all this for a pair of languishing eyes ! 
 Laugh at me, chaplain ; laugh at me as the rest of the 
 world will ; but you, too, have been deceived ; you, 
 too, expressed the highest respect for her." 
 
 "Curt," replied the priest seriously, "how much 
 truth is there in the assertion that you met her ? As 
 for these base insinuations, Nora is as innocent as you." 
 
 " Innocent ? Yes, she looked so horribly innocent 
 that I did not even believe her own words. At least, 
 she was honest enough to warn me that it was too late." 
 
 " Then it is true that you saw her ?" 
 
 " Yes, I saw her," said Curt defiantly ; " I sought her 
 as soon as Lily had left her. I wanted to acquit myself 
 of the reproach of having condemned her unheard ; I 
 wished to save her, and would have braved everything 
 in the effort, she looked so pure and innocent. My 
 God, how madly I loved her !" he cried out in agony. 
 
 " And that man found you there?" asked the chap- 
 lain, in his quiet way. " Then this article is but the 
 fruit of hatred and envy. Curt, tell me all that occurred 
 during the visit." 
 
 Curt related, in broken sentences, all that he remem- 
 bered of his visit to Nora.
 
 266 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " She herself told you it was too late ? She promised 
 you an explanation, and requested you to leave ? There 
 is some mystery. God alone knows what drove the 
 poor girl to this unfortunate step." 
 
 " Pretence, all pretence !" cried Curt bitterly. " This 
 career was her taste from the beginning. My mother 
 was right in prophesying that her education would only 
 serve to make her a clever intriguer." 
 
 " Curt," replied the chaplain, with authority, " do not 
 let your hatred be as reckless as your love. It is a 
 serious matter to misjudge. When we think ourselves 
 most secure, we are often in greatest danger." 
 
 He did not dare say more, fearing to awaken a 
 love which he believed only slumbering, or a resentment 
 which he believed unjust. 
 
 " Read your cousin's letter," he suggested ; " then 
 we can talk over the unfortunate matter, and judge 
 what is best to do." 
 
 " My social position is destroyed," said Curt, with 
 returning anger. " No matter how independent one 
 may feel, no one likes to see himself generally criticised 
 by his acquaintances" — and Curt saw in all its bearings 
 the light in which his connection with Nora Karsten 
 would be viewed. " My poor mother !" he murmured, 
 as he thought with regret how he had received her ad- 
 monitions. 
 
 " These are but slanders of which you are innocent," 
 said the priest. " Do not go to Vienna for some time. 
 Your health is sufficient excuse for your absence. By 
 degrees this scandal will be forgotten. In the mean
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 267 
 
 time, I shall make inquiries, and contradict whatever is 
 necessary. That man, I believe, was the writer of the 
 article. Poor Nora !" 
 
 The good priest thought sadly on the apparent close 
 of a life which had begun so brightly, until he almost 
 feared being tempted jto doubt Providence ; but the 
 recollection of Nora's earnestness of purpose and the 
 self-sacrificing motive of her action convinced him that 
 she was innocent. " Surely," he said to himself, " the 
 poor child is being led through difficult paths, and her 
 dying mother's prayer was not for her happiness, 
 but her salvation. God's flowers grow in every 
 soil." 
 
 Curt remained in a painfully excited state of mind, 
 and yet these facts, painful though they were, were 
 easier to bear than the uncertainty of the previous days. 
 He took up his cousin's letter, and as he read the sim- 
 ple, affectionate words, he murmured to himself, " Loyal 
 little heart." Where he had given so much, he had re- 
 ceived nothing but ingratitude and deception, while 
 where he had given nothing everything was offered to 
 him. " Loyal little heart." he repeated, as he pressed 
 the letter, written, it must be confessed, in a very bad 
 hand. Her amiable, even temper and well-ordered 
 domestic life stood out in happy relief when compared 
 with Nora's exciting, wandering career. 
 
 There are hours of weariness when the even, beaten 
 paths please more than the most attractive landscape. 
 
 Next Curt took up Dahnow's letter, which ran as 
 follows :
 
 268 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " I hope that my tardiness in acknowledging your 
 and your amiable cousin's invitation will be excused. 
 Indeed, I base my hopes on the belief that my presence 
 was not missed. Unless I am very much mistaken, you 
 are both in that state of mind which can dispense with 
 visitors. Allow me, as one of your old friends, to offer 
 my congratulations. I rejoice most heartily at your 
 choice. Anticipating the formal announcement, old 
 friend, I remain, 
 
 " Dahnow." 
 
 This letter seemed to Curt the supplement to his 
 thoughts. The knowledge of being loved was sweet to 
 his heart, and he knew that the announcement of his 
 engagement to Lily would be the quickest means of 
 silencing all this mortifying gossip. 
 
 " Loyal little heart," he repeated once more, and his 
 soul was filled, if not with love, at least with gratitude 
 for Lily. And yet it was not Lily's eyes nor L'ly's 
 figure that were present to him during the sleepless 
 night. 
 
 The next morning the chaplain was surprised by 
 being handed a note from Curt, saying : 
 
 " I am starting for G()hlitz. There it will be decided 
 whether I again go abroad. I'ray for me. 
 
 " Degenthal."
 
 THE CIRCUS rider's DAUGHTER. 269 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 WHILE all these scenes were taking place, a pale- 
 faced maiden sat by the sick-bed of her father, 
 who was lying unconscious, the victim of an apoplectic 
 stroke. She only left her place to go into an adjoining 
 room, where a lonely child pressed his little face against 
 the window-pane, asking continually, " When will 
 mamma come back ?" Nora, whom the reader has rec- 
 ognized, took the curly-headed darling, whose likeness 
 to her and to her father left little doubt of its identity, 
 upon her knee, and consoled him with the assurance 
 that " when papa recovered she would play with him, 
 if he would only be quiet and good now ; mamma would 
 soon return." As she uttered the last words, her cheek 
 flushed angrily. 
 
 Nora had anticipated what had eventually occurred, 
 for she could not but observe the growing intimacy, 
 inspired by frivolity on the one side and greed and re- 
 venge on the other. 
 
 Landolfo's deep-laid plans to become Karsten's son- 
 in-law and partner being defeated by Nora's steady 
 opposition, changed into hatred for the director, whom 
 he always suspected of encouraging his daughter's feel- 
 ings. By threatening to retire from the circus, Nora 
 had induced her father to forbid any more of Landolfo's 
 proposals. The latter began to pay attention to Ma-
 
 270 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 dame Karsten, with the hope of exciting the jealousy 
 of her step-daughter ; and the vain woman, who began 
 to find domestic life monotonous, was very much flat- 
 tered by the attentions of the acknowledged Adonis. 
 She had gradually become weary of her husband in his 
 advancing years. Landolfo was quick to recognize the 
 possibility of making her a tool to further his own de- 
 signs, and, as an additional means, he did all in his 
 power to encourage Karsten's love of drink. His plans 
 were somewhat hastened by Curt's visit, for he feared 
 that the former engagement might be renewed, so 
 he determined to bring about a result which would 
 ruin Nora's prospects, and for which he felt sure the 
 director's pride would prevent him seeking public re- 
 dress. By threats and flattery he easily overcame the 
 weak woman's love for her child, and having taken 
 funds from the business treasury, the pair disappeared. 
 
 His thirst for revenge on Nora inspired the scandal- 
 ous newspaper articles, into which he deftly interwove 
 truths and untruths in such a way as to injure her repu- 
 tation and Curt's. 
 
 Nora had had an angry scene that day with her father, 
 who had been informed by Landolfo of Curt's visit. This 
 had so excited her that she was totally unfit to appear that 
 evening ; and this was made the foundation for the report 
 of her elopement. Nora had retired to her room, and her 
 thoughts were busy with the occurrences of the last few 
 days, when she heard a heavy fall in the next apart- 
 ment. Hurrying thither, she found her father lying 
 unconscious on the floor, with a letter crushed between
 
 THK CIRCUS-RIDERS DAUGHTER. 271 
 
 his fingers. Karsten was going to escort his wife to the 
 evening performance, when the porter informed him 
 that one of the ladies had just left with Signor Lan- 
 dolfo. In amazement he proceeded to his wife's room, 
 and there found his little son asleep and all the drawers 
 and trunks lying open. A letter lay on the table in- 
 forming him that " her heart could no longer bear in- 
 difference, and therefore she had fled to the arms of 
 love. The domestic fetters stung her, and she had gone 
 where her artistic talent would be recognized." 
 
 It required some time for the director to take in the 
 situation, but once understood, his whole nervous sys- 
 tem gave way, and he fell a prey to a second stroke of 
 apoplexy. 
 
 As soon as she entered the room Nora understood all, 
 and her first thought was to destroy all proofs of the 
 humiliation and dishonor her poor father had suffered 
 before calling for help. She hoped that he would 
 speedily recover consciousness, but the doctor's manner 
 soon convinced her that the worst was to be feared. 
 
 The following days she was entirely occupied with 
 nursing her father, but soon other cares obtruded them- 
 selves. The illness of the director and the disappear- 
 ance of the manager, together with the increasing mail 
 matter, the wants of the business and the claims of the 
 members of the troupe threatened a most serious com- 
 plication. In order to prevent or at least to forestall any 
 want of confidence among the troupe, Nora had the 
 presence of mind to keep her father's unconsciousness a 
 secret, and to put the direction of affairs in the hands
 
 272 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 of one who had grown gray in the business, making it 
 appear that he was acting under the direction of Karsten. 
 
 At first this arrangement seemed to promise well ; but 
 as the defalcations of Landolfo came to light, and the 
 want of funds made it impossible to pay the back wages 
 due, the old man realized that it required more business 
 talent than he possessed. Notwithstanding Nora's 
 brave spirit, she began to despair. In vain she looked 
 around her for advice or assistance, and she shrank 
 from taking any decisive step, fearing the result. 
 
 How often that promise of " a few days" occurred 
 to her ! But how slow they were in coming ! She im- 
 pressed it on her maid that she must be very particular 
 to tell her of any visits ; and on inquiry of any that 
 were made, how disappointing to find only names that 
 were indifferent to her ! 
 
 In her desire for advice she thought of the chaplain, 
 but a certain feeling of pride prevented her from apply- 
 ing to him. She wished to avoid the slightest appear- 
 ance of approaching the Degenthal family. One day 
 her heart bounded with joy on being told that a gentle- 
 man had called, but keen was her disappointment on 
 reading on the card " Baron Dahnow, " and she was 
 about to decline seeing him, when her eye fell on the 
 pencilled words, " Should Miss Nora Karsten be in need 
 of any service, will she call on an old friend ?" 
 
 Notwithstanding the first disappointment, these words 
 were welcome, for she was indeed in want of advice 
 and assistance. A certain feeling of repose came to her 
 as she saw that sturdy figure, whose broad shoulders
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 273 
 
 seemed capable of bearing any burden, and whose clear 
 eyes seemed ready to penetrate any mystery. Occupied 
 as she was with her own thoughts, she did not remark 
 the peculiar expression of his countenance as she ad- 
 vanced to meet him. He bowed low over her hand, 
 which he raised to his lips. The mark of respect was 
 pleasing to her wounded feelings, and she said, " How 
 can I thank you, Baron Dahnow ? How did you know 
 that I was in need of a friend ?" 
 
 Dahnow's explanation sounded very simple : that, 
 being in Vienna, he had heard of her father's illness 
 and hastened to make inquiries, as became an old friend. 
 
 It would have been a little difficult to have told her 
 the exact truth. Just as he was wondering what had 
 caused the breach between Nora and Curt, and what 
 had become of her, he was attracted by the articles in 
 the papers concerning her. He was quite unprepared 
 for the sad occurrences enlarged upon, as he had never 
 heard of her having appeared in public. He was com- 
 pletely at a loss to comprehend the whole thing, but 
 notwithstanding this difficulty, he had never for a mo- 
 ment doubted Nora's complete innocence, or that it was 
 the pressure of circumstances alone which had forced 
 her to adopt the career. 
 
 The report of Nora's elopement he stigmatized as an 
 " infamous lie," and his next impulse was to decide to 
 go to Vienna and learn the truth. With his character- 
 istic perseverance he overcame all obstacles, found Nora 
 herself, and had the comfort of feeling justified in his 
 confidence in her.
 
 274 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTEK. 
 
 As he sat with her, he induced her to tell him her pres- 
 ent troubles. His clear mind took in everything, and 
 he promised her all the assistance in his power ; but 
 Nora shrinkingly begged him " to avoid notoriety, not 
 to let her be spoken of." 
 
 Perhaps it was the illy-concealed sorrow on Dahnow's 
 countenance that made her conscious of how public her 
 unfortunate condition had become. There is a good 
 deal of the ostrich instinct in us all, which makes us feel 
 safety in hiding our heads. 
 
 A new light seemed to break upon her, which made 
 her ask in a quick, frightened tone, " Has this been 
 dragged before the public .''" 
 
 Dahnow tried to evade by attributing the publicity 
 to her father's reputation and to her personal charms. 
 Her eyes grew larger and larger, as she said, " But how 
 could they blame my father?" 
 
 " They made a mistake in the names," said Dahnow, 
 with embarrassment. " The little boy being left behind 
 made people unwilling to believe that the mother — " 
 
 " Made a mistake !" repeated Nora. " No, oh no !" 
 she continued, her face becoming a deep red. " It is 
 impossible that any one believed that I — " 
 
 " Newspapers are so inaccurate," suggested Dahnow. 
 
 " But that must be corrected — that must be correct- 
 ed !" she cried, wringing her hands. 
 
 " It was corrected. I read the correction in the best- 
 known papers," said Dahnow. 
 
 " Ah, too late, too late !" she moaned. " Willing 
 ears believe whatever bad is said about us." And for
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 275 
 
 the first time since her great misfortune, burning tears 
 coursed down her cheeks. 
 
 " I shall do all in my power," said Dahnovv, " to 
 set things right, and to see that your name is pro- 
 tected." 
 
 He -kept his word ; before many days the papers con- 
 tained a clear, decided refutal of their former stories, 
 and dwelt particularly on the presence of Nora at her 
 father's sick-bed. 
 
 But Nora was right ; the refutation was passed over 
 with the hurried, superficial glance with which news of 
 little importance is read. Whether it was the wife or 
 the daughter who had eloped was a matter of perfect 
 indifference to the public , the charm of the gossip had 
 passed. Those few to whom the truth or falseness of 
 the story was of importance did not read the refutation. 
 The circle at Gohlitz were not interested in reading the 
 papers just at that time. As if by tacit consent, indeed, 
 they were ignored, as if it were feared that the old 
 wounds would be renewed or some unpleasant truth 
 unearthed. Besides, every one was as busy as a great 
 family event alone can make people, especially in this 
 case, greatly desired yet hardly looked for. 
 
 Lily's countenance was beaming with joy. The dar- 
 ling wish of the countess was fulfilled just as she had 
 begun to despair. Curt's engagement to his cousin 
 was quickly known ; his return, as sudden as his depar- 
 ture, silenced the malicious tongues that had been made 
 busy by his going away. True, meaning smiles passed 
 over many lips, shoulders were shrugged, innuendoes
 
 276 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 were indulged in, but congratulations came freely never- 
 theless. 
 
 The chaplain was the only one who made any in- 
 quiries and found out the truth concerning Nora, but 
 under existing circumstances it was not practicable to 
 speak to Curt or his family on the subject, and he had 
 to wait for a more favorable time. 
 
 In the mean time, Dahnow gave his undivided atten- 
 tion to Nora's affairs. According to his opinion, the 
 best course to pursue was to close the business as quickly 
 as possible, and to have guardians appointed for Nora 
 and her little brother, as, even under the most favorable 
 circumstances, Karsten's illness would be of long dura- 
 tion. He advised going to Karsten's native town in the 
 North, as greatly simplifying things. 
 
 Nora's countenance brightened when arssured that the 
 continuance of the business would only be injurious, 
 for she feared that her brother's minority would require 
 its maintenance. Now, however, she suddenly saw in 
 her hand the end of what but a short time ago seemed 
 an endless thread. 
 
 " How soon, how soon !" she asked, little dreaming 
 that the soonest would be too late. 
 
 Yet an unconquerable opposition arose in her heart 
 to leaving Vienna, where she had last seen ////;/, where 
 he had promised to " see her soon again." 
 
 An unspeakable restlessness seized her. He must 
 come, he would come ; he had come back of his own 
 accord. Why should he have asked an explanation, if 
 he were not influenced by the old love ? Had not that
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 277 
 
 love sounded in each of his words ? She dwelt on the 
 moment she had rested in his arms and felt his kiss on 
 her brow. He surely would come ! She resolved to 
 require nothing more of him. She would not try to tie 
 him to her, but she wanted to explain all that had hap- 
 pened to her. She determined to take out the explana- 
 tory letter which she had written and show it to him, 
 that he might the better understand how she had been 
 circumstanced. 
 
 The, letter lay waiting many days, but Curt did not 
 come. Fears mingled with Nora's longing. Had her 
 words offended him ? Had he heard those dreadful re- 
 ports ? No, no. They would not have a word of truth 
 for him ! Had sickness seized him, as had been the case 
 on a former occasion ? The suspense grew harder every 
 day to bear, .and although weeks passed, and Dahnow 
 called almost every day, she could not bring herself to 
 question him. At length her heart's restlessness tri- 
 umphed one evening when the dusk threw both coun- 
 tenances in the shade. 
 
 Dahnow had come to report what he had been doing, 
 and to urge their leaving. She asked him if he had 
 heard lately from his friend Degenthal. The words 
 were simple, but each one trembled with emotion. 
 
 Dahnow turned pale. For weeks he had been dread- 
 ing this question, for he concluded that all the reports 
 and Curt's excitement had much to do in fashioning his 
 course, and now he dreaded what he had to relate. He 
 was glad of the twilight, which concealed his nervous- 
 ness and helped him to say, with apparent indifference,
 
 278 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 that Degenthal was well ; he had seen him after his last 
 sickness, and found him much improved. They hoped 
 that a stay in the South of France would effect his com- 
 plete recovery. He was going there with his young 
 wife. His marriage to his cousin was to come off in a 
 few days. 
 
 The truth was out ! The good-hearted Mecklen- 
 burger wiped the cold perspiration from his forehead 
 and kept his eyes fastened on the floor, so that he might 
 not see the effect of his words. No sound came — no 
 sound, no sigh. There was a long pause, one of 
 those pauses when you can almost count the pulsations. 
 
 After a while Nora said, as she arose, " I would not 
 have thought it." 
 
 When the heart is heaviest it seizes on the simplest 
 words ; but there was a depth of disappointment in the 
 sentence. Her cheeks were pale, and there was a wild 
 light in her eyes as she said, " I believe I must go to 
 my father." 
 
 She turned to leave the room, but her step faltered, 
 and she seized the table for support. 
 
 Dahnow hastened to her, but she merely said, " It 
 is nothing. So much watching has weakened me a 
 little ;" and as she raised her head with determination, 
 the likeness to her father was most marked. 
 
 Dahnow looked after her entreatingly. "The deep 
 sympathy which was so apparent in his eyes moved her. 
 Her lips trembled like those of a weeping child, as she 
 said piteously, " Baron Dahnow, did those reports 
 sound so true ?"
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 279 
 
 He replied, " Circumstances concurred to give them 
 the semblance of truth." 
 
 " But you — how did you know that they were not 
 true ?" 
 
 " Because I knew you I did not believe them," said 
 the noble Mecklenburger in the simplest manner ; but 
 his voice trembled, and he seized his hat and left the 
 room. 
 
 Nora hardly remarked that he had gone. " Because 
 I knew you I did not believe it," she repeated ; " and 
 he — oh, he believed it !" she cried, as the tears trickled 
 through the hands with which she had covered her face. 
 
 With the proverbial ingratitude of love, she was un- 
 conscious of him who had shown such implicit confi- 
 dence, thinking only of the one who had wounded her. 
 " He believed it all ! I wish I were dead." 
 
 Baron Dahnow wandered about aimlessly that even- 
 ing, apparently indifferent to the thick autumn fog. 
 
 "She loves him still," he kept repeating to himself. 
 *' She loves him to-day, and were he to desert her ten 
 times she would still be true. I always said he would 
 bring her grief. She wasted her love upon this man, 
 who does not know what love is." 
 
 Cold and weary, he sought his comfortable chambers, 
 but could find no rest there The pale, sad face was 
 ever before his ej'^es, and the words, " But you — how 
 did you know that it was not true ?" echoed in his ears. 
 
 He sought distraction in what some call " the bad 
 habit of reading," but to-day his store of books had no 
 remedy for him. His lamp burned low while he was
 
 28o THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 Still impatiently turning the leaves of his favorite poets. 
 He took up a volume of Goethe, for Dahnow, even in 
 travelling, always had with him whatever could in any 
 way contribute to his bodily or mental comfort. 
 
 He opened at the passage where the immortal Goethe 
 makes the uncouth Seckingen say, with more cynicism 
 than poetry, of the gentle Marie, " The slighted maiden 
 is ripe for a proposal." 
 
 Could it be possible that this was the opportunity for 
 which Dahnow had been waiting ? He threw the book 
 aside, extinguished the light, and closed his eyes ; but 
 they must have been sweet dreams that visited him, for 
 even in sleep a happy smile rested around his lips.
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 281 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 NORA felt this last blow even more keenly than her 
 first great sacrifice. From voluntary renunciation 
 to being forgotten and supplanted was a long, wide 
 step, which she had not foreseen. It was a deeper 
 humiliation than the cold contempt he had once shown 
 her. Even in the latter there was a spark of love of 
 which she never lost sight ; but now the last star which 
 lighted the heaven of her affection had disappeared. 
 She did not experience the wild agony which then rent 
 her soul, but she was depressed by the despairing weari- 
 ness which mocks the void of dead hope. I^ove and 
 happiness are such essential parts of youth, that when 
 they are taken away each breath of life seems un- 
 bearable. 
 
 But passion does not die with hope. Not in vain was 
 Nora's power of loving awakened. The restoration of 
 her lover had developed the dreamy sentiment of the 
 girl into the deep devotion of the woman, which cannot 
 be annihilated with a blow, but lingers like the dying 
 ember and leaves the heart either dross or diamond. 
 
 Nora was obliged to hasten to the sick-bed of her 
 father, who lay there a magnificent ruin, unable to move 
 a limb or form a sentence. It was no help to her that 
 he only required constant watching instead of active at- 
 tention, for outward calm sits hard on the troubled mind.
 
 262 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 In one of those hours of restlessness she wrote as fol- 
 lows to her old friend in the cloister : 
 
 " I envy you your interior peace as I envy others their 
 happiness. Why am I deprived of both ? What have 
 I done that my love should turn to bitterness, and all 
 my sacrifice be valueless ? Would that I could bury my 
 heart with you, that your peace might annihilate all 
 feeling." 
 
 The good nun replied : 
 
 " Child, this is no burial-ground. Did you not desire 
 love ? To-day as then I do not blame your choice. 
 Renunciation of the world, however, requires a strong 
 and brave heart. Once you would not choose us ; now 
 I could not choose you were you inclined to come. Oh, 
 woe to us, rash children of men, woe to us when the 
 Lord grants us our desire ! 
 
 "Did you not choose the struggle? Did you not 
 crave love ? To-day as then I do not blame you. It is 
 man's right to struggle for life's joys and sorrows, and 
 what the heart most desires is worth the strife. You 
 knew the cost, and yet you welcomed love. Why do 
 you complain ? Has the Lord been ungenerous ? He 
 granted you life's changing fortune ; He gave you love 
 in richest measure. Have you forgotten all the bright 
 hours ? Even to-day, in the depth of your agony, I ask 
 you, would you tear from life's book the feelings of the 
 past ? 
 
 " Child, worse shipwreck might have been your fate. 
 Thank God that He did not allow you to lose your soul.
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 283 
 
 If your love was granted you as a saving medium, I con- 
 gratulate you, and I believe that the day will come when 
 you will bless the sacrifice it has cost. Look on your 
 trial as a gift from God to you and to him. Why will 
 you rebel against the God who has given you such 
 proofs of protection, instead of putting yourself in His 
 hands and trusting to His providence ? If it seems 
 to you that all your happiness is gone, remember that 
 love is but one factor in earthly happiness. From a 
 pure intention and brave resolve new blessedness may 
 come. The heart's passion holds too small a place in 
 the designs of God to allow it to limit life's object." 
 
 The wise religious who thus wrote must have pos- 
 sessed a clear insight into the female heart, so cleverly 
 to mingle heavenly and worldly consolation. 
 
 Nora often asked herself if she would consent to let 
 her present grief obliterate the remembrance of the joy 
 that had been hers, and ever came back the answer, 
 " No, no," as the blissful hours recurred to her memory. 
 Again and again recurred the words, " It was a gift of 
 God to you and to him.'"'' It seemed to take the sting 
 out of the wound, and from her earthly grief she turned 
 her thoughts to the providence of Heaven. 
 
 Winter had passed. Nora no longer opposed remov- 
 ing to the north, but the director's strength was not 
 sufficiently re-established. Dahnow had gone there to 
 make all necessary preparations, and to place the clos- 
 ing up of the business in proper hands. It was neces- 
 sary for him to write almost every day to Nora, and 
 these letters, so business-like and yet containing so
 
 284 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 much, became a welcome interruption to her monot- 
 onous life. 
 
 It was spring before the final move took place. Dah- 
 now had engaged a pretty residence outside the town, 
 where the director could have good air and quiet, the 
 most necessary things for him in his present state. The 
 practical thoughtfulness of the young man had antici- 
 pated everything that could make it home-like. Violets 
 perfumed all the rooms, and bloomed in the little garden. 
 
 A bright sun lent its rays to brighten the hopes for the 
 future, and Dahnow could not help thinking of that 
 April day when he first saw Nora in all her dazzling 
 beauty. Like April weather, her life had been change- 
 able ; happiness, warm and intense, had lighted it, and 
 sorrow had clouded it. What would this new change 
 bring her ? 
 
 Nora's eye brightened as she came in sight of the new 
 home — home, home, entirely her own, where for the 
 first time she would be free from the hateful surround- 
 ings of her father's business. 
 
 The past winter had been like a long, dark night to 
 her, and she hailed the dawn of life and activity as one 
 welcomes the gray morning light, not knowing what 
 will be the day it ushers in. 
 
 The business had been wound up rather successfully. 
 Notwithstanding the heavy losses of the last years, 
 enough remained to secure to the director and his chil- 
 dren an easy competence. 
 
 Karsten did not appear to realize the changes. Al- 
 though much recovered, his old powers of mind and
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 285 
 
 body were far from being wholly restored. He loved 
 to sit for hours perfectly quiet, or to busy himself in 
 the little garden. Of the past he seemed to retain but 
 slight recollection. Nora had feared the effect of his 
 hearing of the close of his business, but when she told 
 him of it he merely said, " Helena always wished it." 
 There were days when he addressed Nora by her mother's 
 name. He never mentioned his second wife, and was but 
 little interested in his son. On one occasion, as the little 
 boy, with child-like pleasure, thinking of his pony, men- 
 tioned the name of Landolfo, his father became so ex- 
 cited that it was hours before Nora was able to quiet 
 him. She knelt beside him, and taking her father's 
 clinched hands in hers, soothed him with trembling 
 lips, until his angry eyes were finally closed in ex- 
 haustion. 
 
 The mission she had once proposed to herself of awak- 
 ening her father from his religious indifference had been 
 lost sight of in her own troubles. Blessed is the moment 
 when the sense of duty to another gives us the means 
 of overcoming our own grief ! 
 
 Another help came hand in hand with this awakened 
 sentiment. Life cannot be altogether dark when an- 
 other devotes all his efforts to make us happy. Baron 
 Dahnow seemed but to live for Nora, and his care 
 showed itself in the smallest things. To her great as- 
 tonishment, she found that her riding-horse had been 
 reserved, and on her suggesting that she considerefl it 
 too expensive a luxury, he insisted that it was necessary 
 for her health.
 
 286 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 His watchful care was repaid by seeing the exhaustion, 
 which was the natural result of so much trouble and 
 anxiety, disappear, and noting the gentle exercise and 
 fresh air bringing back the color to Nora's cheeks and 
 the old expression to her eyes. Could he be blamed if 
 all this new life revived new hopes in his heart ? Would 
 it not be possible that a new love might come ? 
 
 Whatever may have been his thoughts, he never dis- 
 turbed Nora's feeling of perfect confidence by exposing 
 them. He possessed the rare gift of easily falling into 
 the same vein as his companions, and now his quiet 
 sympathy did for her what his former letters had done. 
 Although yet too worn out to notice each little atten- 
 tion, she was grateful for his unwearying care, and day 
 by day she grew more interested in his conversation. 
 Although Dahnow may have lacked familiarity with 
 many subjects with which she was conversant, he talked 
 like an intelligent and well-read man, and his knowl- 
 edge of her mother's country awakened her liveliest 
 Interest. 
 
 Notwithstanding she constantly showed how welcome 
 he was to her, and he often thought of the words of the 
 rough Sickingen, spring had blossomed into summer 
 and summer had ripened into autumn before he had 
 the courage to test the truth of the knight's words. 
 Did Nora's eyes greet him with too little constraint, did 
 she extend her hand too readily ? 
 
 Was she really so wrapped up in herself as not to be 
 conscious of the feelings which filled Dahnow's heart ? 
 Be that as it may, she was shocked when one day the
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 287 
 
 words were spoken with which a man offers woman what 
 he holds most sacred, and he stood before her telling 
 of feelings which had lain hidden for years. 
 
 It was only the surprise she felt which shone from 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Think of all that the world expects from your sci- 
 entific researches," she said. 
 
 Dahnow merely smiled. 
 
 " Think of the difference of our religions." 
 
 He reasoned away the objections. 
 
 She dwelt on the duty she owed her father and her 
 little brother ; she spoke of the place he could make 
 for himself in the world ; she pledged him her everlast- 
 ing friendship. He saw in her eyes the fear that she 
 was about to lose her last friend, but alas ! he did not 
 see what he looked for. Had he spoken too soon ? 
 Had he left enough time for the wounds of old recol- 
 lections to heal ? Well, he was a patient man. He 
 could wait until she had become accustomed to think 
 of another love. 
 
 " Let it be as though no word had been uttered," he 
 said. 
 
 Nora placed her hand in his so trustfully, he felt how 
 easily she could forget. He resumed his accustomed 
 place in the little household. During the long winter 
 evenings he entertained the director, whose recollec- 
 tions he seemed to understand how to awaken. He 
 held the little boy upon his knees and told him funny 
 stories, adding to them when he perceived that Nora 
 joined her brother's merry laugh. To Nora herself he
 
 288 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 brought books and pictures and everything which he 
 thought would interest her, and she seemed to enjoy it 
 all and gradually come out of her melancholy. One 
 might think that when the heart gives up a ruling pas- 
 sion the mind becomes the gainer and grows more 
 active. It is only in poor soil that roots cannot sprout 
 again ; the richer the mind, the more easily does it re- 
 cover. 
 
 Though youth is sweet and attractive, still more sat- 
 isfying is the charm of developed womanhood, ready to 
 follow man's deeper thoughts. Dahnow felt this truth 
 as he sat opposite Nora, who never seemed so love- 
 ly as now, when the first deep sorrow began to dis- 
 appear and was replaced by the quiet which follows the 
 storm. 
 
 The day came, however, when, notwithstanding this 
 charm, or perhaps on account of it, he became restless, 
 and without other explanation than " I cannot come 
 again," stood up to leave. 
 
 Nora sprang forward as though to retain the true 
 friend, but suddenly she stood still, her hand pressed 
 to her heart to still its beatings. She resumed her seat 
 quietly, feeling that she had no right to burden him 
 with her fate — him to whom she had nothing to offer, 
 him to whom her heart could not turn. 
 
 Was she so perfectly satisfied with her present life ? 
 Ah ! she felt how she would miss him, now her only 
 remaining friend. 
 
 Dahnow' s relatives found him so changed in appear- 
 ance that they recommended him to try a milder climate.
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 2S9 
 
 One suggested that he might better get him a pretty 
 wife to counteract the climatic effects ; and a sister, 
 who had a large family and looked prudently toward 
 the heirship to their uncle's fortune, said that " it was 
 not intended for every one to marry, and that it was 
 very evident that Clement was not so inclined. He 
 should be allowed to do just as he pleased." 
 
 Dahnow did not go beyond the sea ; it seemed as if his 
 unreturned love possessed a magnetic influence, which 
 held him always within a certain distance of its object. 
 
 His leaving, however, made a great void in Karsten's 
 home, where he had been the life of the little circle ; 
 his absence made it necessary for Nora to still more for- 
 get herself to supply his place to her father and brother. 
 This has always a reacting power ; the cheerful word 
 uttered for others echoes in our own heart, and the 
 bright smile sends back a reflecting beam. 
 
 Day followed day, and Nora could not conceal from 
 herself that her father was losing strength ; but as his 
 physical health declined his mental powers reasserted 
 themselves. His thoughts dwelt on higher things. One 
 day he expressed a desire to see a clergyman, and as 
 Nora, in her joy, stooped to kiss him, he smiled, and 
 placing a hand on her head, said, " Yes ; had I followed 
 the advice of Helena in worldly and unworldly things, 
 I would have been a very different man. Child, man 
 can form his own fate, but he becomes the victim of its 
 influence ; it transforms him. The hardest has been 
 for you, my daughter. No," he continued, as she 
 placed her hand over his mouth, "let me speak. It
 
 290 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 has all troubled my head and lain heavy on my heart, 
 although I have not spoken. I have destroyed your 
 life's happiness ; things would have been different had 
 it not been for my obstinate selfishness. Have I dreamed 
 it, or is it true that he returned to you ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, he returned," whispered Nora, and her 
 eyes beamed with happiness. 
 
 " Why did he not remain ?" asked the old man, his 
 brow contracting. 
 
 " Misunderstandings, misunderstandings, father ; it 
 is better as it is." 
 
 He gazed on his daughter, so beautiful, so innocent, so 
 pure! Of what place was she not worthy? he asked him- 
 self. 
 
 " Why cannot the misunderstanding be explained ? 
 You are in the flower of life. It is never too late for 
 happiness. What has become of him ? Where is he ?" 
 
 " He is a long time married, father," whispered Nora, 
 and in spite of her strong will a deep red mounted to 
 cheeks and brow. " I told you, father dear, that it 
 could not be otherwise," she continued hastily, as if to 
 remove the shadow of blame from her lover. 
 
 " My poor child !"' her father moaned, as he drew her 
 head down to his shoulder. Suddenly he pushed her 
 from him, and said, " The other — where is the other? 
 You know, Nora, the one who came so often last winter. 
 I could not think then ; my brain ached. I remember 
 he came every day ; it could not have been for me, poor, 
 sick old man, kind as he ever was to me. Nora, did 
 you send him away ?"
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 29I 
 
 " Papa, let me stay with you ; with you alone have I 
 any comfort," interceded Nora. 
 
 The old man shook his head and said, " I shall not 
 be long here with you. He was a good man, a true 
 hand, a brave heart. It would be a great comfort to 
 me not to leave you alone." 
 
 " God's will be done," replied Nora, " Father, even 
 with him there was much to be considered." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; you are always the circus-rider's daugh- 
 ter, who can settle nowhere, that suits no one," he cried 
 out bitterly. 
 
 " Father," she replied, " there is a sphere where we 
 are not asked what we were, but what we are doing for 
 a noble end. Perhaps God is leading me there." 
 
 " I do not understand," Karsten answered, " but do 
 as you wish. My advice has already done you sufficient 
 harm. But before I am called away send for the clergy- 
 man — you know whom I mean — he who stood at the 
 death-bed of my wife. He may also help me. The 
 last time I saw him I did not treat him well. He ap- 
 peared like a spirit between you and me, reminding me 
 of my dead wife's wishes, and I could not bear it. It 
 was hard with us then, but I think he will forgive me. 
 I must also have his advice with regard to the boy, that 
 he may not fall into the hands of those people — not into 
 their claws," he repeated, as he gnashed his teeth, 
 " But I wish to die in peace with them, too. Nora, 
 when I am no more, can you write my forgiveness to 
 his mother. She was least to blame. Helena was right 
 — in the midst of frivolity, what is to save us ? That
 
 292 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 you were saved was not owing to me. As for him," 
 Karsten continued, " I forgive his rascality. He once 
 saved me from drowning, and who knows but the failure 
 he brought about has saved me from worse. Nora, the 
 blow gave me you. Oh, what would have become of 
 me had you not stood by me ! You were right in say- 
 ing it was for the best, in speaking of him who would 
 have placed you in so different a sphere ; it would have 
 separated us. Now there is no such chasm between us ; 
 you are my prop, my consolation, my salvation. Child, 
 your mother left you to me." 
 
 " Yes, it is well," replied Nora in a low voice, al- 
 though her rebellious recollections protested. She 
 pressed her face close to her father, threw her arms 
 around him, and a sweet peace stole over her heart. 
 Now she understood the reason for her sacrifice and saw 
 its rich fruit. 
 
 The feelings of father and daughter were sacred at 
 this moment. Helena's influence seemed to be over 
 him. In that hour the lifelong wanderer found peace, 
 and felt the reward of the sacrifice he had made many 
 years ago, parting with his child in order to fulfil his 
 vow to her mother. 
 
 According to Karsten's wish, the chaplain was sent 
 for. Not a moment did he hesitate on receiving Nora's 
 letter, but hastened, like a trusty friend, to receive Kar- 
 sten's last words as he had received Helena's, and to 
 assume once more the protection Nora seemed now 
 to need as much as when a little child. In this char- 
 acter, when the last rites were over, he asked her about
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 293 
 
 her future prospects. At that moment a letter was 
 handed to her, in which she seemed buried. As she 
 raised her eyes tears hung on the lids, but her expres- 
 sion was firm as she said, " This letter is an answer to 
 your question. You can hardly believe how full of love 
 and truth it is." 
 
 " From Baron Dahnow ?" the chaplain asked, and a 
 tone of uneasiness sounded in his voice. 
 
 "Yes," she replied; "Baron Dahnow heard of the 
 death of my father, and in this grief comes to offer me 
 love and protection with his hand and name." 
 
 " It is an offer worthy of his noble character, but re- 
 quires to be considered," said the priest, with evident 
 hesitation. He knew well in what an equivocal position 
 circumstances had placed Nora, and he fully understood 
 what marriage with a man like Dahnow would be to her, 
 
 " No," she replied with decision ; "it is not to be 
 considered. But such a proposition enables me to be 
 sure of myself. All that once seemed so sweet to me 
 has lost its charm. The tree that has once been with- 
 ered by such a storm does not bloom again ; but, thank 
 God, it is not dead, and can still spread its branches." 
 She spoke in low tones, as if communing with herself. 
 
 " I do not quite understand you," said the chaplain. 
 " There are unselfish hearts that are happy in giving 
 love without exacting it in the same proportion, and to 
 many a woman's heart this is happier than to mourn for 
 the deeper feeling." 
 
 " I thank God for the consideration," she cried, in- 
 terrupting him, " and were it not that the voice of duty
 
 294 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 forbids it, I would gladly — oh, so gladly, reward such 
 loyalty with my whole life ; but not even the tenderest 
 love can silence that. No ; I shall have no more divided 
 duty." 
 
 " And yet," said the chaplain sadly, for he did not 
 dare advise, " it would be such a comfort to know you 
 were hidden in a safe haven." 
 
 Nora raised her beautiful head dreamily, and re- 
 peated, " A haven ; yes, such a marriage would be a 
 quiet, retired haven. Do you honestly believe I could 
 be happy there ? I am my father's own daughter. Rest- 
 less blood courses in my veins that longs for action. If 
 I was willing to undertake the struggle for worldly 
 things, let me now do so for higher." 
 
 " Beware of forming morbid resolutions," warned the 
 priest anxiously. " When the heart has experienced 
 disappointment it is apt to fancy it has nothing more in 
 life." 
 
 " But I have to do with life," she said, while a sad 
 smile played around her lips. " I am going to live in 
 earnest. The time has passed when I would have been 
 willing to bury my heart. Now if it cannot have its 
 desires, it will have its duties. Do you not believe that 
 the Lord has still strength and work for me ?" 
 
 She rose up and stood before him in the full beauty 
 of her womanhood, and from her eyes shone forth an 
 enthusiasm far from morbid indifference. 
 
 " And the little boy ?" suggested the priest, pointing 
 to her brother, who stood at a distance. 
 
 " My first duty is toward him, and I shall try to fulfil
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 295 
 
 it. I shall find him a new home on the other side of 
 the ocean with my mother's people. He shall not want 
 for love or protection. There he can more easily find 
 a successful future, and there I shall find a field for my 
 labors. Baron Dahnow's account of his travels in 
 America has filled me with enthusiasm for the New 
 World, where there is much to be done. However, that 
 is for future consideration. You, my best friend, will 
 help me to make the change, as you did to make a 
 crucial one long ago." 
 
 The priest reached out his hand to her, saying, " You 
 have undertaken much. For the third time you have 
 chosen strife and struggle. The Lord is, indeed, guid- 
 ing you by strange ways. Your mother desired nothing 
 for you but your salvation, and I believe her wish is to 
 be consummated. All your desires seem to tend that 
 way. May God's blessing be upon you. You have 
 been sorely tried." 
 
 " Is there but one May-time in life ?" she asked. 
 
 A short time after the scenes here described a young 
 couple entered a hotel at one of the South German 
 mountain resorts, coming from the south of Europe. 
 The lady's whole attention was absorbed by a young 
 baby, who had been born in Italy, and whom they were 
 bringing by slow stages to its colder German home. 
 
 The gentleman appeared rather wearied by the moth- 
 er's absorbing anxieties. Notwithstanding his natural 
 paternal pride, he availed himself of the first opportu- 
 nity to escape to the terrace, which commanded a grand 
 view of the setting sun and red, purple, and golden
 
 296 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 clouds. His attention was directed to a second tourist, 
 who had seated himself at a little distance on the ter- 
 race with his back toward him. Something in the figure 
 of the latter seemed so familiar that he approached 
 him, and suddenly exclaimed, " Is it or is it not ? Dah- 
 now, surely you cannot travel incognito! How happy 
 I am to see you !" 
 
 " Ah, Degenthal !" said the other, turning his face 
 toward him, but the tones of his voice betokened no 
 particular joy. 
 
 " Yes, it is I," the first replied, " on my way home 
 with my wife and child after three years' travel. But 
 what is the matter ? How are you feeling ?" 
 
 " Probably like any one who has received the glove 
 for the third time." 
 
 " The glove, Dahnow, you handsome, dashing fel- 
 low ! Impossible ; from whom ?" 
 
 " From Nora Karsten," replied Dahnow, looking an- 
 grily at the former friend of his youth. It was an un- 
 fortunate meeting between one who loved and one 
 whom he believed to be the cause of his refusal. " Yes, 
 from Nora. He who possessed the pearl cast it away, 
 and no other hand will she accept." 
 
 " From Nora Karsten," repeated Degenthal re- 
 servedly ; " from her whom Landolfo — " 
 
 " It is easy to believe what we want to believe," was 
 Dahnow's answer as he turned his back. But Degen- 
 thal turned him round, crying, " What do you mean ? 
 What was there to believe ? What was not true ?" 
 
 " The foulest lie that ever was uttered, to have
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 297 
 
 connected the name of such a girl with such a rascal, 
 such a being with such a hound ! Whoever believed it, 
 wished to believe it. If you do not already know it, let 
 me tell you, it was her step-mother who ran away with 
 the manager, leaving husband and child. To shelter 
 themselves, the despicable pair laid the blame on Nora, 
 and every one believed the lie." 
 
 " That is impossible, impossible !" cried Degenthal. 
 " With my own eyes I — " 
 
 "You read just what I read," said Dahnow scorn- 
 fully. " But I, who never tried to steal into her heart 
 with fine phrases ; I, who never swore to love and pro- 
 tect her, did not believe it. I knew her too well. She 
 stood too high to connect her with such calumny. The 
 first inquiry explained all. Did I not warn you," con- 
 tinued Dahnow, with increasing warmth, " that circum- 
 stances would be stronger than your love ? Then was 
 the time for you to withdraw ; but you seemed true, and, 
 by heavens ! she was worth it ; but when the trial came 
 you barricaded yourself behind an untruth. Do you 
 want to know how I found her ? At the sick-bed of an 
 unconscious father ; none with her but the deserted 
 child ; her reputation smirched on your account ; no 
 one to help her, no one to stand by her. I did all that 
 a man can for the woman he venerates, but I could not 
 win one thought ; she was ever true to you. I saw how 
 her love for you had robbed her life of every joy, strong 
 and patient as she is. I scorn the man who blights a 
 woman's life ;" and shaking off Degenthal's hand, which 
 rested on his shoulder, he walked away.
 
 298 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 
 
 Degenthal remained alone. He did not answer a 
 word to Dahnow's denunciation, but the icy feelings of 
 yore gathered around his heart. For three years he 
 had enjoyed a certain amount of peace and happiness ; 
 for three years he had repelled every thought of Nora, " 
 and rejected any doubt of her guilt which presented 
 itself. But now — 
 
 The voice of his wife interrupted his thoughts. ' ' Curt, 
 Curt, I beg of you to come here. How can you stand 
 there gazing at those old mountains while our beauty 
 is here ! Only fancy, he notices that he is in a 
 strange place. He will not go to sleep unless we 
 change the position of his bed — he is so cute ; come 
 help." 
 
 Curt went obediently. In a dreamy way he took his 
 boy in his arms, admired him, and wondered at his 
 cleverness, as his wife and the nurse expected him to 
 do. Patiently also he changed the bed, but there was 
 something in his manner that made Lily say to the 
 baby, " Send papa away, darling ; he hardly looks at 
 you, and is only happy with his mountains and his cigar. 
 You men are so heartless !" 
 
 Curt did not defend himself against the accusation, 
 but kissing his first born, went out, for he felt he could 
 hardly breathe in the room. 
 
 When passion awakes in the heart even the smile of 
 one's own child has no power to soothe. The fresh air 
 seemed to have but little effect, the summer evening 
 was without charm. From time to time he groaned as 
 if in pain. Was it the arrow of truth piercing his
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 299 
 
 heart? ''He believed tvho wished to believed Had he 
 been willing to believe ? 
 
 The moon had sunk behind the hills, and Curt was 
 still on the terrace,' when a hand was placed upon his 
 shoulder. Dahnow stood before him. It was not the 
 moon's light that made both men look so pale. 
 
 "Degenthal," the latter said, " I come to say fare- 
 well. Forgive what I said. It was wrong in me to 
 disturb your happiness. There are hours when the 
 devil takes possession of men. Let us say no more on 
 the subject. Words do no good. It was to be. You 
 did not mean to be dishonorable. She was not meant 
 for either of us. Perhaps it is for the best." 
 
 "Where is she?" asked Degenthal, and the words 
 could hardly be heard. 
 
 " Karsten is dead. She is going to her mother's 
 country," replied Dahnow. " Let all be buried. I do 
 not like to leave you in enmity. This evening I go 
 away. Farewell, Curt. Be happy in what God has 
 given you." 
 
 "Where are you going?" asked Degenthal, taking 
 the outstretched hand. 
 
 " Where ? The world lies open to the homeless man, 
 but the migratory bird returns to the nest where it was 
 hatched. The day may come when I shall return to 
 the old home in the north." 
 
 " What will become of you ?" asked Degenthal, who 
 seemed in a maze. 
 
 "What will become of me?" repeated Dahnow. 
 " Perhaps I shall be an enigma to my friends, and then
 
 300 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 an agreeable surprise to my heirs." But the would-be 
 cynic could not conceal his sad heart. The word passed 
 unheeded, but became a prophecy. 
 
 After many years of travel Dahnow returned home, 
 took a small house near his relatives, and buried him- 
 self in his scientific researches. His house was a model 
 of refined comfort, where he always had a welcome for 
 a circle of pleasant people. He had spoken truly when he 
 described himself as " an enigma to his friends. " Many, 
 indeed, wondered that a man of his domestic tastes did 
 not marry, but he obstinately repelled any overtures in 
 that direction. The ' ' pleasant prospect to his nephews' ' 
 seemed more and more sure as years went by. At one 
 time, indeed, the prospects seemed threatened by the 
 appearance of a fine-looking young American, bearing 
 a French name, who placed himself under Dahnow's 
 protection. He was anxious to become acquainted with 
 things in Germany, seemed to look on the baron's house 
 as a sort of home, and remained there several months. 
 The stranger appeared to be so dear to Dahnow, that 
 many of the relatives wisely shook their heads ; but they 
 were satisfied when it became known that the young 
 American had large possessions in his own country, and 
 was not to be feared as a prospective heir. There was 
 a good deal of speculation, however, as to the cause of 
 the interest which Dahnow manifested in him. The 
 latter kept his own Qounsel and smiled to himself. The 
 young man, who, with true American independence, 
 quite enjoyed his position, and who showed more taste 
 for the horses and dogs than for the scientific pursuits
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 301 
 
 of his host, could throw no light on the matter, unless 
 he might ascribe all the kindness he received to a letter 
 of introduction which he brought with him. 
 
 Perhaps it was a name which he so often mentioned, 
 the name of one who, with characteristic generosity, 
 had given him the greater portion of her fortune, or a 
 certain resemblance of feature and expression which 
 won him so warm a place in the noble heart of Clement 
 Dahnow.
 
 302 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 ONCE more we return to the garden of Gohlitz. 
 with its sunny terrace and August wealth of bloom. 
 The sun is shining brightly on a happy company. Grace- 
 ful young figures, playful groups of children, men and 
 women in the prime of life, make the air echo with joy- 
 ous laughing and chatting. 
 
 A family feast was being celebrated at Gohlitz, the 
 birthday of the head of the house, the old lord, as Curt 
 Degenthal had been called since his eldest son married 
 and became the father of children. Each of these anni- 
 versaries saw a constantly increasing family circle. 
 
 Curt and Lily had remained loyal to Gohlitz. After 
 their return from the south the young married couple 
 settled down. He could not bear to be the cause of 
 interfering with his mother's long-cherished dominion, 
 and Lily was more than pleased to remain where, since 
 her majority, she had wielded an undisputed sceptre. 
 
 When the advancing years of the countess made care 
 too oppressive Curt's eldest son was of an age to assume 
 the responsibility of his grandmother's property, and, 
 besides, Lily was pleased to see her son come into posses- 
 sion of property, and influenced her husband to further 
 the idea. 
 
 The old countess had seen all her dearest wishes ac- 
 complished. Her son had married the heiress whom
 
 THE circus-rider's DAUGHTER. 303 
 
 she allotted to him since their earliest childhood. It 
 was a happy union, for Curt always showed his wife 
 the tenderest care, and they were blessed with a numer- 
 ous family. Lily's fortune had adorned the high sta- 
 tion of the Degenthal family, and the proud countess 
 had the satisfaction of seeing her grandchildren make 
 distinguished alliances. Yet Providence in the very 
 granting of our blind wishes may allow the thorn to 
 grow, which is all the sharper for being of our own 
 planting. 
 
 By his union with Lily the countess had, in one 
 sense, lost her son, her heart's idol. It is only the 
 noblest nature that is generous in material as well as 
 ideal things. Lily was not a noble nature ; she was 
 narrow both in mind and heart. She was not willing 
 to share the love of her husband and children with any 
 one. She could not acknowledge any other influence, 
 even the sacred claim of motherhood. True, she did 
 not propose to cause any unfilial feeling, but knowing 
 what a powerful influence his mother always had on 
 Curt, she kept them apart and estranged them by those 
 hundred and one tactics so well known to the female 
 mind. 
 
 Curt's natural indifference, and certain recollections 
 which he could not separate from his mother in former 
 days, prevented him offering any resistance. A sad 
 and lonely old age for the countess was the conse- 
 quence. 
 
 Did the remembrance of a certain pair of dark, loving 
 eyes and a sweet, sympathetic voice echo in her mater-
 
 304 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 nal heart? "A daughter worthy of you in mind and 
 heart," the nun had said. 
 
 When the chaplain had done justice to Nora by re- 
 peating her story and trials, the countess's high sense 
 of honor could not refrain from honoring and admiring 
 the heroic courage of the circus director's daughter. 
 Her own loneliness made her all the more highly prize 
 Nora's filial sacrifices. The thought would com.e, how 
 different might it have been with her had she had such 
 a warm, unselfish heart near her. How such a mind 
 would have stimulated that of Curt, now grown inert 
 and, through his wife's narrow jealousy, shut out from 
 intercourse with men of intelligence ; so different from 
 the promise of his youth. She sighed gently, but was 
 far from remorse ; she had done what she thought 
 right, and would regret nothing. 
 
 Time had dealt gently with Lily. The stout little 
 woman did not trouble herself with matters outside her 
 own immediate family, and there all had gone well. 
 The desire of her girlhood satisfied, the cravings of her 
 weak nature asked no more. Curt belonged to her un- 
 reservedly ; that satisfied her. 
 
 As she leaned to-day on the arm of her eldest son, 
 whose fair face resembled her own, she looked proud 
 and happy. She had eyes and ears for him only and 
 for his plans, which had her warmest sympathy. Her 
 first-born resembled her in everything ; the others had 
 inherited their father's tall, slight figure and the com- 
 monplace intellect of their mother, with the exception 
 of the second son, who had his father's brown eyes and
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 305 
 
 thoughtful forehead, as well as his more aspiring nature, 
 tempered, fortunately for him, by some of his mother's 
 more practical bent. Before he had reached his eigh- 
 teenth year he decided to devote his life to the sacred 
 ministry, and entered an order devoted to foreign mis- 
 sions. 
 
 Sadly Degenthal bade his boy farewell, but he always 
 scrupulously studied the happiness of his children, and 
 in the matter of their vocations even opposed, when 
 necessary, his absolute little wife. 
 
 Secretly Lily consoled herself for the choice of her 
 second son by the idea that it would enable her to give 
 more pecuniary means to the elder. 
 
 Father Degenthal's calling had taken him to the New 
 World, where he had now been absent several years. 
 He remained tenderly attached to his family, and never 
 failed to unite by letter with them in their home fes- 
 tivals. 
 
 Curt had withdrawn from his children and grand- 
 children to read the letter which had been brought to 
 him from his favorite son. He sat in his study, which 
 opened off the drawing-room and looked upon the ter- 
 race. The vine-encircled window was a tempting place, 
 where the noise of the company in the garden would not 
 disturb him. He sought the light in order to read the 
 long and closely written missive. To his surprise there 
 was a second letter enclosed, bearing no address. He 
 put it aside in order to devour the lines from his son. 
 
 As he sat there, with the warm sunshine falling on his 
 fine head, he was even a handsomer man than in youth.
 
 3o6 THE circus-rider's daughter. 
 
 He had a fine figure, and though his hair had many 
 silver threads, it was thick and luxuriant, and his full 
 beard was very becoming to his earnest countenance. 
 
 Since his meeting with Dahnow, long years gone by, 
 he evinced a certain lack of interest, which was attrib- 
 uted to his rather delicate health. 
 
 A thoughtful husband, a loving father, and a kind 
 master, he had governed his household well, but more 
 by example than words. It was only in his literary 
 pursuits that the old-time enthusiasm could be recog- 
 nized. 
 
 It was only when his increasing family unconsciously 
 imparted youth to him that he was tempted from the 
 seriousness which had settled on him to such an extent 
 that people asked what could it be that made Degenthal 
 so completely bury himself in the bosom of his family. 
 
 To-day, however, as he read his letter new life seemed 
 to return. The blush of youth mounted to his cheek ; 
 with an impetuosity long foreign to him he threw his 
 son's half-read letter aside and seized the one enclosed. 
 He tore open the envelope ; a number of newspaper 
 clippings fell out ; he did not notice them, but seized 
 the small, yellowed sheet within. This he gazed at as 
 if it were an apparition. It had evidently travelled far, 
 for it bore many postmarks. The address was almost 
 effaced, but showed a lady's hand, evidently written 
 under excitement, and beneath were words he knew but 
 too well, as he had once written them himself. 
 
 Years had passed — years which had left their sting in 
 his life, since he in bitterness had received this very
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 307 
 
 letter, and had sent it back unopened with its contents 
 unread, the ignorance of which had destroyed his life's 
 happiness. 
 
 His hand now trembled as he broke the seal. Big 
 tears filled his gray eyes and hung on his long lashes, 
 as he now read the words that had streamed from the 
 breaking heart of the writer — words that told of the 
 sacrifice which filial duty had exacted, words that said 
 farewell, but echoed a cry for help. 
 
 The old man's head fell on his breast, as if the woe 
 of those days welled up anew from his heart. Bitter 
 came the thought of what might have been. 
 
 He blamed others, and yet he had to confess how 
 cowardly his own conduct had been. 
 
 As a resistless avenger the old love arose from its 
 grave. He saw again the lovely maiden, who had been 
 all to him, in the springtime of her youth. Was not 
 that the vine-shaded window that looked out on the 
 beautiful Rhine, the nook where their two young hearts 
 spoke vows of love and sympathy that were to last 
 through life and eternity ? Was he looking into those 
 blue eyes that mirrored a soul ready to make any sacri- 
 fice for him, and for which he was offering all and every- 
 thing ? Did he dream of the time when he risked all 
 for the mere bliss of holding her once more in his arms ? 
 
 Again he saw her as in all her sorrow she stood before 
 him, purity in her form and love in her eyes, as he 
 dared doubt her and again left her unprotected — 
 easily believing what he wished to believe, were Dah- 
 now's words.
 
 3o8 THE circus-rider's daughter. 
 
 The L itterest sorrow known to man rent his heart. 
 He had thrown away his happiness, he had lost his am- 
 bition and his love, and embittered his youth. The 
 gray-haired man felt his life a failure and his heart a 
 ruin. He swayed to and fro, and the name, not 
 uttered for years, sprang to his lips — Nora, Nora, as 
 though it could recall life and love. 
 
 Suddenly he started as if the invoked name had an- 
 swered, but it was merely a knock on the window-pane, 
 and a curly head appeared and chubby hands were 
 clinging to the cornice. " Grandpa, grandpa, take me 
 or I'll fall ! I knocked and knocked, and you did not 
 hear me," said the baby voice of one of the youngest of 
 the guests. 
 
 The complaint awoke the grandfather from his dreams. 
 He hastily lifted the little one, who clung to him, and 
 the baby embrace warmed his heart. The child of his 
 child was the ambassador that made the present bury 
 the past. "The child of my child," repeated he to 
 himself, and the words banished the visions of youth. 
 What had he to do with early love, surrounded as he 
 was by another generation ? With the boy folded in 
 his arms, he looked out on the gay groups outside. His 
 wife, who had been true to him ; the children she had 
 borne him, and who honored and perpetuated his name ; 
 the home which had been so peaceful, and which to-day 
 smiled on him in its autumnal abundance — was all this 
 nothing ? Could he complain of life that had given 
 him so much ? But in the midst of the group he saw 
 standing the spirit of lost happiness. It looked from
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 309 
 
 cloister bars, from which he had rescued it in youth. 
 Had she found life's path too thorny ? Had the ab- 
 sence of love and home blasted all hope, and did her 
 broken heart accuse him ? 
 
 Curt turned away from the merry company, and for 
 the second time seized the letter that spoke to him of 
 his youth and love, all the time keeping the boy on his 
 knee, as if with the hope that he would exorcise the 
 bitter thoughts. 
 
 His son wrote as follows : 
 
 " I must relate to you an occurrence, father, the key 
 to which you perhaps can furnish better than I, much as 
 I am interested. The enclosed letter, which was con- 
 fided to me, will tell you all and explain of whom I 
 write. You know that the house of our mission here is 
 but a small one, but we have received valuable assist- 
 ance from a community of nuns near by. 
 
 " I have heard on all sides of the difficulties encoun- 
 tered by the Mother Superior when she founded the 
 convent. She was a woman of wonderful nerve and 
 will, and in her order was generally selected for difficult 
 missions on account of her great talent of organization. 
 Her former home was in this neighborhood. For ten 
 years she has now labored without ceasing for the edu- 
 cation of the children, the spread of Christian knowl- 
 edge, and the care of the sick, and is spoken of by all 
 most highly for her holiness and benevolence. I was 
 delighted one day to be sent to her on professional duty. 
 As I gave my name to the French portress she mispro- 
 nounced it, as only a French woman could ; but I had
 
 3IO THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER, 
 
 hardly come into the presence of the Mother Superior, 
 a woman of noble presence, and who must have been 
 wonderfully beautiful, when she said to me, in the 
 purest German, before I could explain my business, 
 ' You must certainly be a Degenthal. The likeness is 
 unmistakable. You have your father's eyes and fore- 
 head, and look just as he looked at your age. The tone 
 of your voice is the same. I knew your father very 
 well. Is he still living ? ' 
 
 " You may imagine, father, how delighted I was ; it 
 is such a joy in a foreign land to meet some one who 
 has known the dear ones at home. I had to tell her 
 everything about you, mother, and the family. She 
 appeared to have known grandmother and the chaplain, 
 and inquired for them. 
 
 " I had to enter into every particular of your life, and 
 1 told her how you made every one belonging to you 
 happy by your care and affection, and of the pleasure 
 you derived from your studies. 
 
 " ' Yes,' she interrupted, as if speaking to herself, 
 ' he always had a noble nature and a bright mind.' 
 Her speech and whole bearing convinced me that she 
 must have belonged to the most refined circles. Per- 
 haps you may remember her. I had occasion to see her 
 often, and each time my admiration for this remarkable 
 woman increased. This all occurred last winter. 
 
 " In the spring one of those terrible epidemics which 
 sometimes visit us, and which strain every nerve, came 
 upon us. This noble woman was untiring in her exer- 
 tions, and her practical talents worked miracles among
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 3II 
 
 our terror-stricken people. The sick and the poor honor 
 her as a saint, and her presence in their homes seemed 
 to give them new courage. The city made public ac- 
 knowledgment of her services. Other cities, visited by 
 the plague, called for her, and when her duties here 
 allowed, she hastened to the assistance of other houses 
 of her order. 
 
 " Often she was obliged to make those journeys on 
 horseback. I met her frequently, and was struck by 
 the equestrian skill shown by her, most remarkable in 
 a woman of her age and in a nun. When I once made 
 some remark on the subject, she laughingly said she 
 had been accustomed to riding in her youth, ' and now 
 it is good for something,' she added. 
 
 " About that time I was sent to a mission which de- 
 tained me from home for some time. On my return the 
 awful plague had spent itself, but I was grieved to hear 
 that the terrible strain had broken down the noble nun, 
 and she was very ill. 
 
 " I received a message that she wished to talk with 
 me, and I immediately went to her. She received me 
 with her usual warmth, but I was shocked to perceive 
 the change that had taken place in her appearance. 
 
 " She lay in an invalid-chair in the convent garden, 
 and a lay sister sat beside her. 
 
 " ' You see what I have come to,' said she, ' and how 
 I have to be waited on. However, I have not sent for 
 Father Degenthal professionally ; I do not stand enough 
 in awe of him for that,' she added in a jesting manner ; 
 ' but I want a favor of him, if he does not think me too
 
 312 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 frivolous. Will you bear a message from me to your 
 father ? We were good friends for years ; an unfortu- 
 nate accident brought us together as children, when 
 your grandmother was very kind to my parents and to 
 me. Later a misunderstanding, for which neither of us 
 was to blame, separated us, and the possibility of an ex- 
 planation did not come. I am unwilling to die without 
 it. Meeting you seems to me the finger of Providence. 
 The Lord does all things well. Send this letter to your 
 father,' said she, giving me the enclosure ; ' he will know 
 who sends it, and when he understands how all occurred 
 perhaps he will judge differently from what he did in 
 those days.' 
 
 " The tone of her voice was sad as she spoke, and a 
 flood of recollections seemed to overwhelm her. She 
 ceased speaking, as if buried in thought, and remained 
 so long silent as to seem to have forgotten my presence. 
 Suddenly she opened her eyes with that indescribable 
 expression peculiar to her, and continued, ' You see 
 how even an old nun can cling to things of earth, and 
 concern herself with them in her last days. In your 
 youth you will, perhaps, wonder at this. Old age is so 
 far away from you and such an unknown land that you 
 can hardly understand the feelings of its inhabitants ; 
 but human nature is human nature to the last breath. 
 This we understand when years have passed and seem 
 so short as scarcely to have separated us from youth.' 
 
 " She spoke as if to herself, but each word had so 
 much meaning that I try not to forget one. 
 
 " ' I want to send your mother greeting also, the
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 313 
 
 greeting of a school-girl's friendship. I have long 
 known of your mother's happiness. Once she was loyal 
 to me, which I have never forgotten. God has rewarded 
 her for it by sending her such happiness.' She hesi- 
 tated, and then said, ' But I have also been happy, very, 
 very happy. Tell that to your father. The life the 
 Lord has sent me was beautiful, and I was true to it to 
 the end. What He gave me in my youth was sweet ; 
 He guided all for the best, and we have all followed 
 the paths laid out for us as though we had chosen them. 
 The Lord sends no sorrow without its consolation, no 
 cloud without its sunbeam. I thank Him that He led 
 me into His service ; that He made me useful to many 
 — perhaps one home would have been too narrow for me ; 
 I thank Him that He gave a home to the homeless 
 and that He sent you to me to receive my last adieus.' 
 
 " She took my hand and continued, ' I am happy to 
 have met you. Be thankful, young man, that God has 
 called you to His service in your youth ; we mortals 
 sometimes wander into by-paths. 
 
 " ' But,' she continued, ' the conquest is all the better 
 for the struggle. Don't you think so ? ' she asked, 
 smiling. ' That is a comfort to many a struggler ; but 
 you are right, God is the best leader. Now tell me of 
 your mission. I am tired of idleness, and if you have 
 time I would like to hear of the activity of others.' 
 
 " I told her of my work and its results and promises. 
 She listened with sympathetic interest, and her quick 
 perception and ready grasp of each particular showed 
 how eagerly she had entered into her vocation. It
 
 314 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 made me understand the meaning of her words that one 
 home might have been too narrozv for her. 
 
 " As I told her of my plans she said, ' I may not see 
 it ; they are going to send me to the mother house on 
 account of my broken health. It is a sacrifice to give 
 up my work here, but, as it has been said, I do not take 
 root anywhere ; I belong to the wanderers. Yet I 
 would like to have rested here, where my mother's home 
 was.' 
 
 " By this remark I understood that she was an Ameri- 
 can by birth, and I cannot connect her acquaintance 
 with you with it. She must have had a varied life, for 
 she knows almost all the European languages as if they 
 were her own. When I had to go I expressed a desire 
 to see her again, but she looked at me thoughtfully and 
 said, ' No, my young friend, let us take leave now. 
 Your mission demands all your time, and my last days 
 must not trespass on it. I said that human nature re- 
 mained human nature to the end. I have given it its 
 rights ; now let my thoughts be directed upward. It 
 was very kind of them to let you come. What I have 
 done will perhaps be of good to others. Come, take 
 the blessing of an old woman, for you, for him, for all 
 his house,' she said in trembling voice, as I bowed my 
 head and her hand rested upon it. ' Just so did my 
 mother bless your father. I repeat it, it was a blessing 
 that our paths crossed.' 
 
 " These were the last words that I heard from her, 
 and each one is written on my soul, for they seemed to 
 me a legacy to you, my father. Her last wish was ful-
 
 THE CIRCUS RIDER S DAUGHTER. 315 
 
 filled, for her illness increased so rapidly that the jour- 
 ney to the mother house was abandoned. A few weeks 
 after our last conversation she died, regretted by all, 
 rich and poor. Whatever her rank may have been, she 
 could not have received more honor than was shown to 
 the humble nun. I can never forget her ; it is a bless- 
 ing to have even met her, who had a heart so warm and 
 a soul so worthy of heaven." 
 
 So wrote the son with all the enthusiasm of youth, 
 and the old man read it with a feeling of mingled thank- 
 fulness and sadness, acknowledging that what seemed 
 bitter had borne blessed fruit, and that even the short- 
 sightedness of man tended to the accomplishment of the 
 designs of Providence. 
 
 The little boy, who had grown weary of being un- 
 noticed, touched the letter with his baby fingers and 
 said, " Is it not ended, grandpapa ?" 
 
 "Yes, darling, it is ended," continuing to himself, 
 " ended like all things here below — youth, love, and 
 life — but it was well ended.''' He could not say, as she 
 did, " It was better so ;" but he said, " It is good so." 
 He rose and felt as if a weight had been lifted. " Yes," 
 he said, " she was right, her blessing did others good." 
 
 The little grandchild wondered to see his grandfather 
 collect each piece of paper and gently lay it aside. The 
 old man smiled as he recollected how he had once 
 spurned this same time-worn letter, and how a 
 strange fate h.d brought it back to his hands to be 
 honored.
 
 3i6 THE circus-rider's daughter. 
 
 Secret drawers have a wonderful charm for children, 
 who connect everything uncanny with them, and the 
 boy raised his little head curiously and mounted a foot- 
 stool, to see what his grandpa had laid away so 
 carefully in one of these mysterious places in his 
 desk. 
 
 Carefully Curt laid away the letter, and then from 
 the drawer he took a little pearl heart, which he fast- 
 ened to his watch-chain. The morning that that little 
 pearl heart was placed by childish hands on his chain 
 came before him as clearly as if it had been but yes- 
 terday. Again he saw the dying mother and heard her 
 agonizing words ; again he heard the chaplain accept 
 the sacred charge. 
 
 Impatient feet and loud voices broke in upon his 
 dreams, and a happy crowd burst into his room, saying, 
 " Papa, as one messenger could not bring you out, we 
 have all come. Richard and his letter must not keep 
 you from us any longer." 
 
 His wife also came, and looking sharply into his face, 
 asked, " Was it a good letter ?" 
 
 " Yes," said he, " it was ts. good letter ;" and his kind 
 face beamed with delight on the merry crowd sur- 
 rounding him. 
 
 " Then why do you stay away from us when we are 
 all so happy ?" asked Lily reproachfully. 
 
 " Our son sent me news of one from whom I never 
 expected to hear again — sent me a greeting, a last greet- 
 ing. But we will have many happy days together," he 
 said, as he drew her to him. " God has granted us
 
 THE CIRCUS-RIDER S DAUGHTER. 317 
 
 many blessings — He has done all things well. Nora, 
 the circus director's daughter, also sends you greeting. 
 She was more than happy, she was holy." 
 
 " GocC s flowers groiv in any soil." 
 
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