MARBURG'S SECRET.

Evening Star, Issue 11725, 7 April 1902, Page 2

MARBURG'S SECRET.

[All Rights Reserved.]

By Mary liOVKrr Cameron. 'Author of 'At a Moorish Window,' etc

Ono bright spring morning four young pcoplo left Rome by the San Paolo gate for a ramblo on the Campagna. It was a day to tempt all lovers of nature from the contemplation of works of art, however perfect. A sapphire sky flecked here and there by little vagrant clouds arched over the sunlit landscape, and the buoyant stir of awakontng life was- in tho air. Walkii*',' first was Rosamund Hanley, a slender English girl, whoso firm light step showed thar she would be no clog on the progress of her male companions. Beside her was Andrew Scott, a young artist, whose studio had been a favorite place of meeting for his friends during the past winter. He kept his face turned towards his companion, aud talked eagerly, watching the soft color •which the "balmy air brought to her cheeks, and tho quick sympathetic play of her mobile features. The first part of tho way was flat and iminteresting, but it seemed to fly beneath their fee: as they covered it, laughing and chatting. When they came to the turning in the road where San Paolo flings its vast mass athwart the prospect, Rosamund paused and looked back. "We have outwalked the others," she said. Scott drew his level brows together, and tapped the ground impatiently with his foot. "We need not wait. Edgar and Marburg are deep in cno of their archaeological discussions, I expect." The others came nearer. Edgar Hanley who was at least ten years older than his sister, bore the mark of a scholar on his slightly bowed shoulders and in his tired eyes; his hands were clasped behind his bacK. and he looked down as he spoke in measured tones, to which, notwithstanding Scott's surmise, his companion hardly seemed to be giving his attention. The tallest and by far the handsomest of the party, all of whom were comely, Gottfried Marburg, was a south German of the unfleshly type, whkh the early painters and engravers of his nation were fond of taking for their soldier saints and hermit knights. A tinge of melancholy shadowed his clearcut features and his blue eyes, fringed by long lashes, had the strange limpid gaze of a young child. "Which way shall we take?" asked Rosamund. "We have made the round by the Sette Chiesi and S. Domitilla so often, let ■• ' • Tri Fontane to-day,'" said Edgar AH were agreed, and they set forth again. As long as thev followed the highway 'beyond the basilica they kept together", but when they were mounting tho steep lan« beyond the little hostelry which marks th» last vestige of life on the lonely road, Rosamund stopped to gather some thyme from tho high overhanging bank. Marburg waited for her. Andrew Scott gave a backwnr" glance, bnt Edgar was in the midst of n description of some newly discovered frescoes, and he had no excuse for interrupting him. Gottfried did not say anything at first, but walked in silence beside Rosamund till they reached the top of the hili, where the lane, disengaging itself from the high banks, runs along the top of a ridge liommamding tho desolate expanse of the Campagna. Not a house, not a hedgerow, not a cultivated field is to he seen. The few miserable huts of the fever-stricken inhabitants of this deadly district, are built into the strangely shaped ruins, which, seeming to have crumbled into the very substance of the ground, are hardly to ha distinguished from them. " And this was once a busy, fashionable suburb," said Rosamund. "It seems incredible !" "Dust to dust," murmured Marburg, more to hinxself than in answer to her remark. " ThiTo is such infinite sadness in a scene once cultivated and lived in by meu, then abandoned." she went on, " so different from the joyful wildncss of nature, left to herself." "There is a beauty--but it is the beauty of old age and death." Just then a bend in. the road brought a grove of thickly folioged trees in sight, they filled a hollow in the ground, and stretched up over the hillside berond. Tiled roofs and a little dome and bclfrv peeped out among them. stopped and pointed with his stick.

'' There are the proves of eucalyptus by which the monks of the Abbey of Tri FonUno are exorcising the demon of malaria. Thirty years ago to dwell here meant death; tho monastery ua.s abandoned, the churches in ruins. Then a fe-«- Trappist monks, grieved that the reputed scene of St. Paul's martyrdom should bo thus deserted, volunteered to try to reclaim tho desert. They planted and drained, and though it is hardly yet a sanatorium, the unhealthine*s is supportable to resolute and vigorous men." They descended the slope, and following an avenuo of eucalyptus came to a- gothio archway, at tho gate of which they rang. It swung open, and a few steps brought them into an open court, round which the churches and other buildings of the monastery were grouped. The change of scene was a»s sudden as complete. Outside the gate nil wa,s dreary desolation. Within masses of flowers and banks of blooming shrubs surrounded a splashing fountain from the stone basin in which trailed verdant creepers : a puppy and a kitten played in the sunlight, and the soft cooing of doves mingled with tho chant rolling forth from the cool gloom of the open church door. An old monk clad in white woollen garments camo forward cautiously, and led them •!'i--I"irdcred path to the little chapel of the tTiree fountains which gives n* name to the place. Rosamund looked a* Gottfried Marburg; the sadness had left his face. "The desert lives <vgain," she said. "'Tis nature only ■(raiting to be reconquered," and he smiled a strange pathetic smile, which filled Rosamund with wondering pity. They wandered about, plunging their faces in the sweet smelling buncheß of flowers, sitting on the steps leading to the churches, and on the margins of the bubbling fountains. At last Edgar warned them that it was time to depart. They had a long stretch of the most unhealthy part of the Carnpagna to traverse, and the sun was getting low. When they came to the gate they saw that Marburg was no longer with them; they called him, but in vain. Edgar would not let them wait longer. He asked the porter to tell their friend they had gone on, and they set off on their way towards Rome. They re-ached tho gates just at. sundown, but Gottfried Marburg had not overtaken them. Late that evening, as Andrew Scott sat reading in his studio, Marburg .valked in. "I have come to wish you good-bye," he began abruptly, "I am leaving to-morrow morning." " This is a sudden idea, isn't it? I hope no bad news '' "Quite tho contrary," replied Marburg, and he smiled the old far-away smile that had puzzled Rosamund. " I have known for some time that I must go, that 1 should be summoned—but I have lingered." He took a turn up and down the studio. Andrew watched him, letting his pipe go out in his surprise. Presently Marburg came and stood before him. "I have had many pleasant hour* here—they have been the .breathing times in a struggle that has been very hard sometimes—but, never mind, it is over now. And so good-bye and thank you." " Confound it all, Marburg, you talk as if you were going to die." Gottfried was feeling in his pocket. "I have one last little favor I wculd ask you to do for me." He brought oj', a letter. "Will you give this to Mh;s Hanley?" "Surely you are going to wish them goodbye!" " No—better not; it is late tonight, and I am off at daybreak to-morrow. I could post this, of course—but—you will explain —in fact I should like you to give it to her." "Of course I'll give it to her if you ask me," said Andrew, taking not* and thrusting it in his pocket. " But it's a pity you can't put off going a day, am l wish the Hanleys good-bye; after being together so seems strange."

"My note explain*—they wiD understand. And now I most be off, I We still much to do to-night Good-bye." t He held out his hand. Andrew grasped it without further speech, and Marburg departed. When he was gone Andrew shook his fist at the door behind which he had disappeared. " I wonder whether you suspect you cold-blooded Teuton," he muttered between his teeth, "to make me your go-between—-your letter carrier!" He drew several pull's at his pipe. "Is he doing it to choke ine off or to put me on my honor not to cut him out while he is away? What on earth does tho fellow mean?" Tho next morning found Andrew inquiring for the Hanleys of the porter at the old house on the Janiculum, where they had takeu an apartment for the winter. The Signer Hanley had already gone out, he was told, biit the Signorina was within. Andrew went up. He looked pale and haggard, as if he had not slept all night; when he s*iw Rosamund ho grew paler and seemed to find a difficulty in speaking. " Edgar has gone to the library in the Colligio Romana," she began ; " but you don't look well, is anything wrong?" "No—yes—in fact, Marburg is gone." " Gone!" "Yen—gone, left Rome, that is to say." " Without wishing us good-bye. Oh ! something dreadful must have happened. Tell mo quick." " I can't. He said ho was summoned. He was mysterious, but he left a letter to you which explains all about it." ''A letter. Where is it?" "Ah! That's just it, he gave it to me to give you—-and I—have—lost it." Andrew was red now, furiously red to the very roots of his hair; he looked up, as ho spoke, and met Rosamund's eyes, and his heart sickened, for he saw a suspicion flash into them. They stood facing each other a few seconds, then Rosamund, in » voice she tried to make indifferent, said: " I daresay there was nothing important in it He -will come back, and we shall know all about it." And she sat down, and took some work from tho table. From that day the friend> fell apart; the rambles on the Campagna, the wanderings about the ruins and througn the museums, which had wiled away so plcasantlv their leisure hours, were all over : so were the chats round Rosamund's tea table in the twilight, when they discussed what they hail seen and done during the day from varied bnt sympathetic points of view. Andrew Scott shut himself up in his studio, Edgar Hanley buried himself more than ever in his books, Rosamund grew pale and silent. Of Marburg no word was heard. Spring merged into summer, and the time came for the Hanleys to leave Rome for London, where Edgar was going to see his book on ' Roman Morjnnents of the Decadence' through the press. A few days before their departure Edgar came in to tea bringing with, him Scott. " I have been to look this fellow up at his studio, and insisted on his coming back with me. We have seen nothing of him lately, he is overworking. Give him a cup of tea, , Rosy." j Conversation flagged ; both Andrew and Rosamund looked unhappy, and talked in jerks. Edgar was not quick-sighted, except when an ancient inscription was in question, but he felt all was not right. "We are not so jolly as we used (o be. 1 think we miss Marburg. By the way, has anything been heard of him, Scott'.'"' Andrew looked into his cup. " Not a word," he said, then lifting his j head and looking full at Rosamund be added : '" But I have made up my mind to find him. I shall leave no stone unturned to get on his track." Her face lighted up. ' "Oh, do! Find him for us!" she cried. He jumped up, her frank expression of joy stung him. I must say cjood-bye, Hanley. You return to Romo in the autumn, do you not?" " Assuredly. My book on Etrurian remains on the. Campagna will bring me. And you? Are you staying on here?"

" Artists don't ilee Rome in summer. It is the finest time hero for work. 1 may go up to the Alban Hills for a fow weeks, but no further." " Then we meet again in November," said Edgar, as Andrew shook hands with Kosamut.ul. Hhe smiled as cordially as ever, but he went away with u heavy heart; whether ho succeeded or failed m his quest, he saw no hope of obtaining his heart's desire, November came. The Hanleys returned to Home. An aunt and some cousins cam;; with thorn for «. short- stay, and they were busy at first showing them round. Andrew called, but he could not get an opportunity ot speaking to Rosamund apurt. He jus: managed to say as she passed him a teacup : " f have not. found Marburg." When he was leaving she said : " We are driving out on the Appian Woy to-morrow, taking lunch, and afterwards aunt will drive hack with the baskets, 'if rest of the party mean to wftlk to the Latin Tombs home by the I'ort'i San Giovanni. Win you go with us?" Her eyes said " accept," and he accepted The next do-y, lunch being over, and the sunt having driven off in the carriage, Edgar began to point out and explain some of tho most interesting tombs to hL cousins. This was the opportunity .Rosamund had foreseen. She turned off the load, and after going a few steps sat down behind one of the strangely-shaped masses of ruin which are all that remain of the tombs of so many noble Romans. Andrew had followed her, and they sat side by side & few minutes without speaking. It was a wind-still autumn day ; before them, like the rolling billows of (he sea, the Campagna swept- away; near at hand, sparsely clothed by brownish grass, it n-plted gradually into indescribable- shades of sad, soft color till at last it wrappd itself around the feet of the distant purple hills. Not a. sound, not a movement broke the silence; all nature seemed to pause in grey suspense. "Marburg has disappeared," said Andrew presently. "Disappeared as utterly as if the ground had swallowed him up." He waited a moment, and as Rosamund said nothing went on. "I have been able to find no clue. He left no address at his hotel, we were his only friends in Rome. There was .always something strange about him. With ail his charm, and his sympathetic interest- in my work, my hopes and plans, he was reserved ; be never spoke of himself." " He had had a great sorrow, end had been obliged to break with all his past. I am not sure even that Marburg was his name." "He had confided in you!" " Only in general terms; stray words, momentary self-betrayals told me n'll 1 know ; I think it was something he could not bear to tell. I imagine (not that he said so) that the sin of another had fallei! •m him. He was very, very lonely." Andrew struck the turf beside him with his clenched fist. All the hopes that had sprung up in the long summer days vanished. Marburg, with his godlike face and his tragic secret, was a rival whose power over a girl's imagination must be supreme. His pain made him bitter and unjust. "And knowing all this you encouraged me in a futile search, a search that was bound to fail?" " I wanted you to try," she said. "That letter, that -- letter!" " It might have given us the key—but on the other hand, it might only have be°r to say good-bye for ever." Andrew suppressed the words that rose to his lips. He wanted to cry out, to teil her not to waste her youth in hoping against hone, in waiting for one who had disappeared for ever from her life. But how .could he do so, when the letter entrusted to him perchance explained all that was mysterious in Marburg's conduct? How if in it he had craved patience, asked h?r to await his return freed from some suspicion or misfortune? And if that were so, and Marburg did come back, he, Andrew, would stand for ever accused of having destroyed the missive. He sprang up. Th; tension was too severe for his impulsive, passionate nature. To be so near to her, to feci the burning words quivering on his tongue, and not dare to say them, was'beyond his strength. The distant hills, tr-e weird Campagna, the ruined tombs, ail swam before his eyas. "I. think I'll walk straight home. Excuse me to the others. I don't feel well. I have a lot of things to do." Rosamund looked up at him, but he wa»

gazing straight in front of hint, and did not see the appeal in her eyes. " I have done my best. Believe me, you cannot desire his discovery more Ibml da If I could find him he -would be here." Pourinsr out his words confusedly, h* shook hands, and was striding .way over the brown earth and scanty grass before Rosamund could find a word to bid hira stay. When lie was fairly gone she let her face fall on her hands, and tears squeezed themselves between her fingers. "It is all my fault—my wicked, horrid suspicion that morning, when he told me the note was lost. It was for a minute, but he saw it. He saw it, and he is so proud and headstrong—l love Mm for it—but he is. lie will never forgive me, unless he could bring- me the letter and fling it down before me, or find Marburg. And Gottfried, pomfellow! how grieved he would be if he k,iew that lie had come between us!" Quitting by this train of thought her own tioiibles, she went on to wonder for the hunch edth time what had become of her friend. Friend, she could truly call him, for something intangible but very real bad from tie first made impossible any other feeling oetween them. He was cut off from the common, lot of man, condemned to stand aloof and watch the joys and sorrows of others. What the summons could be of which he had spoken to Andrew she coul'J not guess. Musing thus she sat on where Andrew hao left her, till it suddenly occurred to her ihat the others would expect to meet her wjtb Scott at the Latin tombs. She hastened back to the road, and began to walk along it hoping that she had not forgotten which turning* to take to get to the Latin Way. The Appiau Way stretched its rib-bon-like length between its rows of tombs , there was not a creature in sight. Now she perceived that the western horizon was burnishing as if with the glow of sunset; the November days are short, and she must have sat much longer than she had dreamt after Andrew had left her. After a whale, anxious thoughts began to assail hor, fo'the odd-shaped ridges which furrow the Campagna hid the row of tombs whose irregular forms mark the course of the Appian Way. .She hoped she was walking parallel with it, but she could not be sure. However, it Mas useless to try to retrace her steps, in her first terrified flight she had not noticed whore she went; the best plan now was to walk on, and trust to either striking the road or coming on some habi tution where she could get a guide to lead her back to the gates of Rome. The gloom deepened, the light of day was almost gone, the first star twinkled in the sky, and still she saw no sign ot human life. Just as she was contemplating the prospect of spending the night in solitary wandering sue saw a light, her heart leaped, and she hurried towards it. As she approached it she found a low bank or wail of loo>e stones in her way. Skirting it for a while and rinding no gate, she decided to scramble over, but hardly _kad she gained the top when a huge dog, which must have been crouching on the other side, sprang at her, and she started back, and the great animal stood on the wall, his fangs ejqwsed. giving vent to a menacing snarl. How long she stood thus, not daring to move lest the Irutc should seize her, she did not know—probably only a few moments, but Ihey seemed long to her. Suddenly something whirled past her, a long staff wielded by a stalwart arm'swept the top of the wall, the dog disappeared with a yelp, and turning she behold a white-robed monk beside her. Ho beckoned, and they walked qnickiy off while the dog was recovering from his surprise. They heard his barks begin after a few moments, but content to guard his master's property, ho did not venture out, and they became fainter and fainter in the distance.

She turned to her companion. His cowl was drawn forward, and hi the dusk his face was quite invisible. Thanking- him, she told him in a few -words henr she had lost hov party, mid was trying to fond her wa/ back to .Rome. '' You have wandered, far from your way ; wo are now near the Tri Fontane. We shall soon be there, and then our porter will conduct you home." He spoke Italian as she had done, but she perceived that his accent was that of a foreigner, and there was something familiar in his tone of voice. Meanwhile Andrew had gone on his "way carintr little whither his feet, carried him, so lonk' as ho walked off the violence of his feelings by rapid motion. He had struck rft across country, and he also found himself (though much earlier in the afternoon) in (lie neighborhood of (ho Tri Fontane. Uy that time his excitement had somewhat cooled, and entering the wood on the hill above the monastery he sat down to rest. He began to regret his lit of temper, and to see the rudeness of bis behaviour clearly. H i was struck with compunction for thus having Rosamund to return. U> the party alone, ar.d wondered what excuse lie could effer when ho saw Edgar again. His pipe uas a counsellor he always had recourse to in his difficulties, and he felt for it in th-,-side pocket of his coat. Then occurred ore of those little accidents which sometimes so disproportionately affect the course of outlives. His pocket was ragged (ar-tist-like he loved old garments), and his pipe had slipped through a rent and into the lining of the coat. His present humor was not one to bear thwarting patiently, lie dragged the pocket inside out, and tore the hole much larger. Then he put his hand in and fett for the pipe, but the first thing he got out was n. crumpled envelope, which he threw or- the ground, but when he had extracted v.nd lit the pipe he picked it up and exmincd it. The outeide was so-discolor*--and dirty that he could not read the ad dress : it was unopened, and he concluded that it must be one he had put in his pocket to post, and then forgotten. He tore it open, and began to read: " When you receive this I shall have taken the "step that will cut mc off for ever from a world ha which » useful life is, through another's crime, made impossible to int.' To-day, as we stood in that garden made to blossom in the desert, as I. saw how health was begotten from disease, life from death, by nameless men forgotten by the world, my vocation was suddenly made clear to mo.' I am sending this letter by the hand of Scott " The paper was crushed in Andrew's excited grasp. "Hurrah! Hurrah! I have it. Found at last!" $, Then he ran over t-ac situation in his mind. All was made clear; while he had been wearying himself in fruitless search, Marburg was quietly dwelling in the building whose roof he could see.between the trunks of the eucalyptus trees below him. How strange that he should make this discovery just here! And following an irresistible impulse he strode down the hiil ;;ud rang at the gate of the Abbey. Ho in quired for Marburg, but the porter said he knew none of the inmates by their mundane names. However, he summoned the old monk whose, office it was to receive visitor-;, and from him Andrew soon learnt that GottfrieiMvas indeed of Tri Fontane. He had not yet taken religious vows—the Order was unt entered until after long probation—but he was living their life and wearing theic habit, testing his capacity to sustain the M:vtritv of their discipline. Andrew asked if he might see him. " I have something of importance to tell him." The monk said there would be no objection, but brother Alessio, as they oalled him, was out at the moment. He had gone to carry aid to a shepherd who had met with an accident; it was some distance away on the Campagna, but he expected he would soon be hack. The belt rang while the monk was speaking. " This is probably brother Allesio. It is too late for visitors." Andrew bade a nasty farewell to the old man, and went to the entrance; he found the porter in the act of opening the gate. Putting him aside, he stepped out holding the letter in his hand. By the of a lamp hanging under the archway he dis tinguished two figures, and stopped astounded as he lecognisod Rosamund. Then Oottfried Marburg threw back the covl which hid his face, and taking r. hund of oaeh of his two Mends in one of his owi! he looked from one to tho other with a smile of indescribable peace and tenderness. "God bless you. God'bless you both,'' he«• swill, and joining their hands as he ■withdrew his own he turned from them, and disappeared through the open gate jnio i the courtyard beyond^