FOR FATHERLAND.

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume II, Issue 115, 12 May 1871, Page 6

FOR FATHERLAND.

A STORY OF WEISSEMBURG. Chapter I. —Rolandseck. A sweeter twilight had never fallen upon Rolandseck than that of the loth July, 1870. The setting sun gilded the peaks of the ' Siebengeberge' with a more than usual brightness; the shadows of the evening crept up the intervening valleys ; the vesper chimes were borne softly, through the stillness of eventide, from the little churches scattered along the Rhine ; and the merry laugh of the vine-dressers came at intervals on the soft breeze. No one would have thought that on the afternoon of that day the fatal word of war had been uttered in the hearing of every nation of Europe, and that the destinies of some who were at that moment in that quiet little hill-climbing hamlet should be affected by it for ever. Half-way up the hill stands the Schloss Roland, occupied at the time in which our narrative opens by Frau Brunei and her son and daughter, Karl and Elsie. Frau Brunei had been widowed four years —her husband, who was a captain in a Prussian cavalry regiment, having been slain at Sadowa. Karl had on this same 15th of July completed his twenty-seventh year. We will not enter into a detail of his physical proportions and intellectual powers ; suffice it to say, that he Was of that strong, manly type which is so characteristic of thorough Germans, with a frank countenance; fine, lofty brow, and lustrous, deep-blue eyes, with a dreamy haze about them, which seemed to be born of the moaning pines of the Swartzwald or the sighing of the unfathomable sea. Hitherto he had been by profession a scholar : had studied at Heidelberg, Leipzig, Bonn, and Berlin, and was now about to be appointed to a professor's chair in the University of H . To-night he was to bid farewell to Rolandseck, and had invited some of his old college friends from Bonn—about ten miles down the Rhine—to mingle their hearts with his on the occasion. Besides these, there were some friends from Mayence, amongst whom were a Dr. Stewart and his daughter Lily. The latter two he had Hiet several years befcre at Innsbruck, in the Tyrol. They had come from Scotland to. see if health could be wooed back" again to the one other member of their little circle, Mrs. Stewart—had gone over all the Rhine-land, with it ssmiling valleys and vine-clad hills, and were in search of the pure mountain air of „ the Tyrol-when eur hero first met them. He -saw that the invalid's case was hopeless, but nevertheless did all in his power r to cheer her drooping spirits by his lively descriptions "of the mountain scenftry, or his relation of the traditions and legends that lingered amidst the valley.;. At the urgent entreaty of all he consented to travel back to the Rhine with the party. They reached~~'Mayence'"with their sick charge, who was never destined to go farther. " But Karl Brunei had come back from these Tyrolese mountains with a deeper feeling in his bosom than that of compassion. His heart had been smitten by the quiet b. auty and the sweetness of character of Lily Stewart. The love was mutual; and ere they were long on their journey a new and fairy world dawned upon their souls. Love now was their mighty conjurer, and as" they passed homeward, the "magnificent Orteler Spitze, the evening star which adorned its snow-white brow had for them a* brighter lustre, and the Italian shepherd lad had-a sweeter song:- — Two days- after their arrival at Mayence Mrs. Stewart died. It was a lovely summer evening, and the soft murmur of the Rhino was borne in through the open win-

dow of that chamber of death. Far away in the eastern horizon the twilight was ( " t slowly advancing from behind the hills of j Wiesbaden. One lustrous star hung on i the brow of night. The dying one saw it» and prayed that might be the star of peace for all. She then placed her daughter's j little jewelled hand in Karl Brunei's, fell' back —then the brightness of that witnessing planet was for ever lost to her eyes. Lily Stewart and her father had lived in Mayence ever since. They also had gloried in Karl's success, and were there as the special guests on this evening of festivities in Schloss Roland. In a few weeks more she would be the wife of her loved Karl, and her maidenly heart was now rejoicing in the dawn of her future bliss. All the invited parties had come, with the exception of Franz Limbach, a warm friend of Karl's. He had been detained at Bonn on some university matters, and would not be until the late steamer. Music and dancing had long been going on apace. Some of Schiller's finest songs were sung by sweet German female voices. At last there was a general request that Lily Stewart should sing one of her own national songs. Most of the parties present had a fair knowledge of English, and one at least knew many of Scotland's finest lyrics. A hush fell over all as the fair Scofc'v maiden commenced on the piano the prelude to one of her sweetest national airs, ' The Flowers o' the Forest.' A strange thrill, which no one could explain, passed through the audience as, in an intensely plaintiff strain, the last verse was rendered by the singer : I're seen the morning with pjid the hills adorning, And the dn>a I tempest roaring before parting day ; I've seen Tweed's silver streams G-litt'ring in the sunny beams, G-row druralie and dark as they rolled on their way. Oh, fickle fortune ! why this cruel sporting ? Ob, why thus perplex us poor sons of a day p Thy frowns cannot fear me, Thy smiles cannot cheer me, For the Flowers of the Forest are withered away. The last three lines of the song were given with an abandonment which almost spoke despair, and tears filled the Lily's eyes as she was led from the piano. Just then Franz Limbach entered from Bonn with a look of terror on his face. ' Hilloa, Franz! Have you seen the Dragon of the Rhine on your way past the Drachaifels to-night that you look so pale ?' exclaimed Karl. 4 No,' replied Franz, 'but all Europe has to-night heard the roar of Hell's own Dragon!' ' • - - ' What mean you ?' asked a dozen voices. ' Simply that war is once more let loose on this fair land of ours.' ' Who- has dared ?' 4 France has dared it, and done it too ! To-day the fatal word was spoken in the Corps Legislatif in Paris, and God knows what fires it may kindle, and what ruin it 'may bring.' ' Then God defend the right and save the Fatherland,' exclaimed Karl Brunei. ' Amen !'* responded many a quivering voice. The terror and confusion that had fallen on the assembly on receiving the fatal news was naturally some time in subsiding. Gradually, however, the stolid, firm element of the German character prevailed; and for the sake of the festive occasion and the noble heart who had called them together, the mirth and dancing were again resumed in a moderate degree. In the midst of a dance Karl and his betrothed stole out unobserved. The moon was shedding its silvery light on the blue Rhine far beneath them. They walked along the terrace to the brow of the crag on which stands the famous ruin of the castle of Rolandseck. When they reached this Lily fell on the bosom of her lover, and groaned aloud. . 4 Oh, my own Karl, I see it all now ! Do not, tor Heaven s sake, tell me you are to leave me ! Oh, my poor heart! What a crushing weight is here ! I felt it all approaching when I was singing that song, ana I was afraid to look around.' . Far.. Heaven's sake, calm that little troubled spirit of yours, my dearest Lily. What we dread may not happen : war may be averted. And though it should be doomed that we must fight, God grant that we may soon return again. In the midst of the fighting both of us can

love and pray —the rest we can leave to the Disposer of battles.' ' Ah, would that you were home from the wars at Rolandseck safe again,' replied Lily ; ' but oh ! the horror of some impending doom hangs over my soul, and already I seem to feel the cold linger of death laid on my heart. My own Kail, I cannot, I will not leave you.' ' Useless words, fair one,' replied Karl B.unel. ' I think I can realise the naiure of the sacrifice we both must make alike. Yet du'y calls me, and I know that your own true heart will not bid me stay.' ' Will you then, dearest, grant me one of two things ?' ' What are they ?' ' Either that you will allow me to follow you through danger as your lawful wife, or that you will at once telegraph to me if you should be wounded in battle.' 4 1 have too much love for you, my dearest Lily, to grant you the first request, amidst all the dangers and uncertainties of war. The second I grant you unconditionally.' There was then a long embrace, during which each heart felt that it was looking out from a present bliss in\o a dark futu.'e. Instantly Lily shuddered, and cri->d—- ' Let us haste from this, dearest Karl.' t ' What is the matter, love ?' 4 1 am thinking of that peaceful twilight, three summers ago, when we sat here together, while you told me the sad story that consecrates this ~u in.' Lily had been thinking of the brave Roland who went to Palestine to join the Crusades and left his lover behind, to await with anxious heart his return ; and of the false "eport. of his death ; and of her going into that convent there, now in ruin • , on thp island of Nonnenwert; then of Roland's return, and his discovering that her faithfulness had placed an eternal barrier between them ; and of the death of both lovers, and the ringing of the convent bells o'er their ashes, and the Rhine murmuring its everlasting requiem by their graves. As they left the ruin an owl flitted past them on silent wing, and as they marked its <Hght they saw that it alighted on the walls of the ruined convent on the island of Nonnenwert. Just then a far-off strain of music was borne on their ear. At first it seemed to come from the ruined convent, but on listening more carefully they found that it proceeded from the Schloss Brunei. It was Marguerite's song from ' Faust,' sung by some sweet German voice. Softly came the plaintive wail through the evening air—- ' Vfe'ne Rah ist bin, Meine Herz ist sehwer ; Ich finde sie nimmer, Und nimmermehr.' 1 My peace is gone, My heart is sore ; I find him never, Ah ! nevermore.' They listened to the first verse, then gazed into each other's eyes in a dreamy horror, as if they were forecasting dark events ; yet neither of them breathed the thought that was withering their hearts. Chapter II. —The War Bugle Calls. In less than a week after the declaration of war, Mayence was filled with soldiers. Landwehr, Uhlanen, heavy cavalry, batteries of artillery, and ammunition-wag-gons went pouring along the streets, all in one direction —that of Homburg. On Friday, 22nd July, the quaint-look-ing old Dom-Platz witnessed the departure of one of the finest regiments of cavalry Landwehr that had ever been sent forth on behalf of the Fatherland. At early dawn the regiment had been astir in order to see the horses properly put into the railway waggons for transportation to the frontier. Ere the forenoon was well advanced they were marched up to the Cathedral, in order to be present at a military mass that was to be sung in their behalf. Karl Brunei, who was a captain in the regiment, being a Lutheran, did not enter into the services, yet he resolved to be present with his company. Up the central aisle of the Cathedral the regiment was drawn, while the thousands of the other spectators were ranged around. It was a sad assembly. There came the mother on behalf of that darling boy of hers, who, with bright eye and firm lip, was about to march away to the war, looking so handsome, and brave, and grand. Sisters were there to bid farewell to brothers, fathers to sons, and many a little blue-eyed German fraulein attended to take a last fond look of the doar heart she loved so well. Lily Stewart was there too, leaning on the arm of her father. A dark haze hung about her eyes, and in vain she looked for her lover amidst the assembled throng. The service commenced with Haydn's Qui tollis, a composition of pathetic and impassioned beauty. Then came the chorus in 4 Bow down Thine ear and hear us !' with grand effect; and finally, as the ' Miserere !' was reached it seemed to be sobbed out in the deepest soul-agony, that

sent a perceptible thrill through all within t ie Cathedral. When the Agnus Dei was rendered, organ choir and orchestra were all alike tremulous and soft. During its performance, Lily Stewart seemed to fix alike her e/os and soul on a large picture of the C ucifixion that hung in one of the little side chapels before her. The artist had cast a sweet halo of compassion around that sad, tender face, and she thought that the sorrowlul form above her knew all her woe. Her spirit seemed to hover between that divine and loving expression and the supplicating strains that were borne upon her ear. * Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere!' At last, absorbed in the one thought that to her was dearer than life, she cried out, 4 Oh, G-od, save him !' and fell fainting in her father's arms. There was one b'/ave heart in that throng groaned within him as he saw her carried out, yet he neither spake nor moved. Karl Brunei was a soldier. On that same afternoon the regiment left for the battle-field. Franz Limbach, of Bonn, an old college companion of' Karl's, went with it as chief surgeon. The Lily and her father were at the station to see the departure of those whom they held so dear. The four stood together in the salle of the station during those last minutes of awful suspense. Lily motioned F'anz Limbach aside, and addressed him with a look of imploring pity in her eyes—--4 Franz, will you grant me one request 'lf it lies within my power, Lily, I shall.' 4 Promise to telegraph at once to me if anything should happen my Karl.' 4 We are entering upon the awful uncertainties of war, Lilv,' resumed Franz, 4 and it may be an impossibility in some cases to transmit tidings, bu! rest assured that I shall not allow you to be without information if any effort of mine can give it to you.' 4 God bless you, Franz,' exclaimed Lily, as she turned away in tears. Anl now that supreme moment of separation had come. She threw herself into the arms of Karl, and gazed into his eyes in a dreamy despair. No tears were flowing now, but her face was of the paleness of death ; it was a face of intense beauty, but now sadly transfigured by grief. Her chin was resting on his golden epaulette, and her eye seemed to be looking far down through man}' a bloody fight, and watching one form amid the battle-smoke. Once and again Karl said a tender word, but not awo d could she utter in return. All had been said already that loving souls could tell, and now there was that eloquent silence which words would have debased. At length the bugle-call was given, and as its cruel shrilling fell on their ears it roused them to the stern necessity which demanded their separation. Then there was the last embrace, and the warrior stooped in his sadness and kissed those pale lips. 4 God bless you, my dearest Lily,' whispered Karl, in the deepest emotion. 4 May Heaven protect you, my own Karl,' responded Lily; 4 1 will try and keep up bravely till your return, and be worthy of your own noble heart." But the remorseless bugle sounded again, and the warrior went awav to the bivouac and the battle-field, while the maiden went home to work and to pray. (To be concluded in our next.J