Greifenstein | Page 2

Hilda, it was necessary that Hilda should grow up
beautiful, and to grow up at all, it was necessary that Hilda should be
fed.
It had come to that, to the very question of food, of mere bread to eat.
There was not enough for two, but Hilda must not starve. That was the
secret which no one, not even Hilda herself must ever understand.
During the first years, it had not been so hard to live. There had been a
few poor jewels to sell, a few odds and ends that had brought a little

money. While Hilda was a little child it had been easier, for she had
needed but few clothes and, being little, had needed to eat less. But at
last there had come a day when Frau von Sigmundskron, not so thin nor
so pale as now, had seen a hungry look stealing into the eyes of the
fair-haired girl. It was little enough that they had between them, but the
mother said to herself that she could keep alive with less. The careful
economy which bought nothing not capable of sustaining life and
strength could go no further. There were but so many pence a day for
food, and to expend more to-day was to starve tomorrow. From that
moment Frau von Sigmundskron began to complain of headache, and
especially of loss of appetite. She could not eat, she said. She did not
think there was anything the matter, and she would doubtless be better
in a few days. But the days ran on to weeks, the weeks to months, and
the months to years, and Hilda grew tall and fair, unconsciously eating
her mother's portion of the daily bread. No hermit ever lived upon so
little as sufficed for the baroness; no perishing, shipwrecked wretch
ever measured out so carefully the ounce of biscuit that must maintain
life from day to day; no martyr ever submitted more patiently and
silently to his sufferings. But Hilda grew, and the years sped on, and
Greif would come in time.
Greif, upon whom such great hopes were centred, was a distant cousin
as well as a neighbour. The relationship was on the side of Hilda's
mother, whose grandfather had been a Greifenstein, and who might
have been expected to accept some assistance from her rich connexions,
especially as she was quite willing that her daughter should marry their
only son. But the baroness was a woman whose pride forbade her to
accept under the pressure of necessity what had not been offered freely
in other times. It must be admitted also that the Greifensteins, though
well aware that the Sigmundskrons were extremely poor, were far from
suspecting that they were in need of bread. They knew that the castle
was still the unhampered property of the two ladies, and they supposed
that if things were really in a bad state, the baroness would raise money
upon it. She never alluded to her affairs when she was with her
relations, and excused herself from asking them to stay with her, on the
ground of her poor health. On rare occasions Greifenstein and his wife
drove over to the castle, and were invariably admitted by the same

soberly-dressed, middle-aged woman, who showed them into the same
old- fashioned room, whence, having made their visit, they returned to
the outer gate by the way they had come. That is all they ever saw of
Sigmundskron. Twice in the year, also, Hilda and her mother were
invited to stay a fortnight at Greifenstein, but no one would have
supposed from their behaviour that the luxury of the latter place
surprised them, or seemed in any way preferable to what they enjoyed
at home. Hilda's education had not been neglected. Among her earliest
recollections was her mother's constant injunction never to make
remarks upon what she saw in other houses. The child was not long in
learning what the warning meant, and as she had inherited a plentiful
share of her mother's pride she almost unconsciously imitated her
mother's behaviour. Greif himself was the only person who might have
known something of the true state of the case; but as he had been
accustomed to be in love with his cousin ever since they had been
children he would have feared to hurt her feelings by asking questions.
For Hilda was reticent even with him, not from any shame at the idea
of being thought poor, but because she was too proud to have it thought
that either she or her mother could ever need the help of the
Greifensteins.
Furthermore, if the baroness's reluctance to ask for assistance has not
been sufficiently explained, there is one more consideration which
might alone have sufficed to account for her conduct. Between her and
Greif's