"'No, aunt,' he said, 'it would be untimely were I to make her any assurances. Susanna knows now that I love her, and I think she returns my love; of what use are further words?'
"Honest old Klaus! I can still see you standing before me, in the agitation which so well became you, and so truly brought out your fine, brave character.
"'Farewell, then, Klaus,' said I, placing my hand in his, and he drew it to his lips and looked at my tearful eyes. 'Hold your dear hands over my little Susanna,' he asked tenderly; 'I will thank you for every kind word you say to her. And should she be in danger, should she grow worse again, write me. I will leave a few lines for Anna Maria.'
"'God be with you, Klaus; may all be well!'
"He accompanied me through the dim hall as far as the stairs. A short whirr from the old clock, and two hollow strokes were heard. Two o'clock already! I waved my hand again, and went up-stairs, with how heavy a heart God only knows!
"I stopped at Susanna's door and softly lifted the latch. By the uncertain light of the night-lamp I saw Anna Maria in the arm-chair beside the bed; her head rested against the green cushion of the high back, her hands were folded over her New Testament in her lap, and she was sleeping quietly and soundly. I glided softly in and looked at Susanna; she lay awake, her eyes wide open. As she caught sight of me she dropped her long lashes, pretending deep sleep, but raised them again, blinking, as I withdrew. Was it any wonder that she did not sleep and that her cheeks glowed like crimson roses?
"My sleep was restless that night, full of confused, troubled dreams. Toward morning I woke with a start; I thought I heard the rumbling of a coach. 'Klaus,' I cried, and a feeling of anxiety came over me. I rose and glided to the window; a thick, white autumnal mist hung over the trees and roofs of the barns; it was perfectly still all about, but the door of the carriage-house stood open and a boy was slowly sauntering into the stable; the gates were opened wide, showing a bit of the lonely, poplar-shaded highway.
"I stole away and sought my bed again; so far everything was certainly quiet and orderly. I had been sleeping soundly again, when suddenly opening my eyes, I perceived Brockelmann by my bed.
"'Fräulein,' she said, unsteadily, 'the master has gone off early this morning!'
"'He will come back, Brockelmann,' I said, consolingly. 'Does Anna Maria know yet?'
"'To be sure!' replied the old woman; 'and she was not a little frightened when Frederick brought her the letter which the master left for her. But you know, Fräulein, she always judges according to the saying, "What God does and what my brother does is well!"' With that the old woman went.
"I believe I sat at the window for two hours after that indéshabillé, thinking over yesterday's experience; Klaus had gone, and when he returned Susanna would be his wife—that was ever the sum of my reflections.
"When I came down-stairs I found Anna Maria engaged in business transactions with the bailiff and forester. How clearly she made her arrangements! The men had not a word to reply. Offers had been made for the grain; the harvest was richer than ever before, and the price of grain low. Anna Maria did not wish to close the bargain yet; in Eastern Prussia the grain had turned out wretchedly. 'Let us wait for the potato-crop,' I heard her say. 'If that turns out as badly as seems probable now, we shall need more bread, for our people must not suffer want.'
"She proceeded with calmness and caution. Oh, yes. Klaus was right; his house was in good care. As she followed me afterward into the garden-parlor she pressed my hand.
"'Klaus's departure seems like a flight,' she said; 'but it must be all right.'
"Not a word of yesterday's occurrences! Nor in the future either. Susanna observed the same silence. When I went to her bed to inform her that Klaus was gone on a journey, a bright flush of alarm tinged her pale face for an instant, but she was silent.
"For some time yet she had to keep her bed; then her childish step was heard again about the house, her slender figure nestled again in the deep easy-chair in the garden-parlor, and she went about the park as of old, idling away the days, and gradually signs of returning health appeared in her cheeks.
"She evidently missed Klaus; it was most plainly to be seen in her dress. She seemed astonishingly negligent; at a slight word of blame from me, the question, 'For whom?' rose quickly to her lips, but she did not speak it, and turned away her blushing face. Isabella Pfannenschmidt came to the house a few days after Klaus's departure, while Susanna was still in bed. I entered the room soon after her, and found the old woman by the bed, a vexed expression on her face. My ear just caught the words: 'Yes, now, there we have it: the egg will always be wiser than the hen!'
"She was embarrassed at my entrance, but remained fierce and surly. I purposely did not leave them alone, and toward evening she took her leave, with a thousand fond words to Susanna, and a cold courtesy to me. 'All will yet be well, my sweet little dear; only wait!' she whispered before she went."
"Life went on quietly in the house without a master. Anna Maria was busy until late in the evening; she possessed an endless capacity for work. 'I can bear Klaus's absence easier so,' she said, when I urged her to give herself some rest. 'I miss him infinitely, aunt!' Stürmer came occasionally to inquire for the ladies. Once he arrived at the same time with Anna Maria; she, like him, was on horseback; they had probably met on the highway, for Anna Maria came from the fields, the bailiff behind her. I was standing at the window with Susanna. 'What a splendid couple!' said I, involuntarily, and indeed I thought I had scarcely ever seen Anna Maria look so handsome.
"Klaus wrote rarely; those times were not like the present, and one was well satisfied to receive a letter once a fortnight. Anna Maria answered promptly; her accounts must have been sufficiently detailed, for no letter or inquiry in regard to our secret came to me. Anna Maria used to read Klaus's letters, with the exception of the business portions, aloud, after supper. There was a certain homesick sound in the words, calmly and coolly as they were written. But her face beamed at every word which he wrote from the enchanted Silesia in praise of the poor home in the Mark; it stirred her whole heart. Next to her tender affection for her brother, she clung with an idolizing love to her home; no mountain lake could compare with the brown, oak-bound pond in the garden, no high mountain-range with the charm of the heath, with the pine-forests in the cradle of Prussia.
"And the object which doubled all the longing, which made the old manor-house at Bütze seem in the eyes of the distant owner like a fairy castle, like a rendezvous of the elves—this object sat playing with her kitten during the reading, and now and then I even had to tap her shoulder as she yawned slightly.
"'Is that only feigned indifference?' I asked myself. Then, again, a sad, weary smile would play about her mouth if Klaus were the subject of conversation. I thought at the time that she was fretting over the long-delayed continuation of that hot declaration of love; that she, with her ardent nature, was tormenting herself to death with doubts. And I could not speak a consoling word to her; Klaus did not wish it. Why should Susanna be spared a
"'Hangen und BangenIn schwebender Pein'?
"'Hangen und BangenIn schwebender Pein'?
"One morning a peasant lad came running into the yard, bringing a letter for Susanna; the old mam'selle at the forge had sent him, he said. I met him on the steps, just as I was coming in from the garden, and bade Brockelmann go up to Susanna with the note, which was written on the finest letter-paper. The boy trotted away, and I sat down with Anna Maria in the sitting-room. In a few minutes Susanna's light step was heard in the hall, and she entered the room in haste.
"'I must beg you for a carriage, Fräulein Anna Maria!' she cried, out of breath; 'my old Isa is ill: I must go to her.'
"Anna Maria put down her pen, rather unwillingly, at this disturbance; she had been making out accounts.
"'But, Susanna, how often have I requested you not to walk so fast? You are out of breath again.'
"'Shall we not find out first what is the matter with Isa?' said I, for all at once Klaus's words, 'Hold your hands over this girl!' fell heavily on my soul. Klaus had asked it of me. Klaus was no child; he was a calm, strong-willed man, and he was going to make her his wife, and I knew he would accuse me, bitterly accuse me, if a hair of her head were hurt.
"'It might be a contagious disease, Susanna,' I continued, with all the decision at my command, as her eyes sparkled at my opposition.
"'And what if it were the plague?' she cried, and clinched her little hands, and swung her foot impatiently under the folds of her dress.
"Anna Maria stood up. 'For shame, Susanna! I think you are quite right to wish to take care of Isa; it would be unnatural if you did not have this desire. But you have scarcely recovered, and a long stay in that musty little sick-room would be poison to you; and besides, as Aunt Rosamond says, the disease may be contagious; we must find out about it first.'
"'And meanwhile she may grow worse and die!' cried Susanna passionately. 'What if I do take the disease? I must go to her!' And bursting into tears, she threw herself into a chair, and buried her head in the cushions. Anna Maria went up to her and bent over her.
"'Susanna,' she said, kindly, 'a sensible woman shall go at once to your Isa. And now compose yourself; I have a quiet word to say to you when I come back.'
"'God knows what that may mean!' I thought, looking at the weeping girl. 'What does she mean to say quietly to her?' I stroked Susanna's hair gently. 'Do not cry,ma petite,' I said, consolingly. 'Everything is in God's hand. He guides and rules every human life according to his will; trust him, he will bring it right!' I do not know if Susanna understood me; a fresh burst of tears was the reply, and all inconsolable sounded this bitter sobbing.
"Anna Maria came back and sat down opposite Susanna. 'Will you listen to me rationally?' she said, somewhat severely.
"Susanna started up and gave her a defiant look. 'I am listening,' she said.
"Just then I was called away; the pastor's sister, an early friend of mine, had come to pay me a visit. I went, not without anxiously regarding the two girls. What in the world could Anna Maria have in view?
"After two mortal hours Mademoiselle Grüne took her leave; she no doubt found me more distraught than is usually permissible; even talking over a wedding festivity which we had attended together in the remote period of our youth, at which Minna Grüne came very near becoming engaged, and which ended in a fire, failed to interest me as usual. When I came down-stairs again I found Anna Maria over her housekeeping books; Susanna was not to be seen.
"'Anna Maria,' I asked, more hastily than is my wont, 'what have you been talking about with Susanna?'
"'I wanted to talk with her about her future,' she replied, 'but——'
"'About her future?' I repeated, faintly.
"'Yes, indeed, aunt, for things cannot go on in this way any longer. Susanna suffers from a dreadful disease—she hasennui. In my opinion this doing nothing is enough to make the most healthy people ill.'
"'And what did she say, Anna Maria?'
"'She? she ran away as soon as she heard the one word future! Susanna is a naughty child, and it is high time for Klaus to come back and put her in a pension; she is worse than ever since he went away.'
"I had to smile, and yet tears came suddenly into my eyes, and yielding to an involuntary impulse, I asked: 'Anna Maria, do you really believe that Klaus will send Susanna away.'
"She turned about and gave me a startled look. 'Can you doubt it? He has no doubt gone away for that express purpose. Do you not suppose the justice could have despatched that business?'
"The next day Susanna, pale and low-spirited, drove to Dambitz, to take care of her Isa. She had cried all night long, did not get up in the morning, and kept on crying in her bed, till Anna Maria ordered a carriage for her.
"Isa was said to be suffering from a stitch in the back, quite free from danger, so there was no contagion to be feared. Susanna packed up a host of things, as if she were going to a watering-place. Without ado, Anna Maria took flowers, ribbons, laces, and white dresses out of the trunk, and put in half a dozen strong aprons. 'You will have more use for these,' she explained, gently. I was entirely opposed to this journey; in consideration of my private instructions, I could not approve of it, yet it seemed right to Anna Maria. 'I cannot bear the old woman either,' she said; 'but if she is ill and wants Susanna, she must go.'
"'How could a man fall in love with this childish little creature?' I thought, as she leaned back in the carriage with a happy smile of satisfaction; the black crape veil floated about her small face, her little feet were propped against the back seat, and she gracefully waved her hand to me again. Oh! mademoiselle had the manners of a duchess, mademoiselle will already act as Frau von Hegewitz. If Anna Maria dreamed of that!
"A letter from Klaus came that evening. My heart began to beat, as it always did when one came, for each time I thought Klaus would write his sister of his love. I watched Anna Maria closely as she read; she frowned and shook her head.
"'Klaus has had to take possession of the property, in order not to lose everything,' she said. 'He writes that he had expected to be back in a week, but now, alas! he is obliged to stay longer. "The harvest festival should be kept just as if I were there,"' she read on. "You can say a few words to the people in my place. As may easily be imagined, I have my hands full, and there are not a few disagreeable things: in the midst of the harvesting and nothing in order; the people a lazy, Polish element; the bailiff a knave whom I sent off the first day! The situation of the manor is wonderful, as well as the building itself and the great, shady garden; however, I shall be glad when I am free from the business at last. The high hills not far away depress me; they shut out the view too much; how far do you suppose I can see from my window? Just through the space between the two barns, over the wall of the court-yard. As soon as I have things in some degree of order here I shall have Beling (the bailiff) come and take the management in my place. I hope you are all getting on well. Is not Aunt Rosamond going to write me at all? Is Susanna well, perfectly well? You did not mention her in your last letter."'
"'Aha!' thought I, as Anna Maria, reflecting, let the letter drop, 'the longing! Oh, you foolish Klaus! And if I were to write him now, "Susanna is in Dambitz," what would he say?'
"'I should like to drive over to-morrow to look after Susanna,' said I, turning to Anna Maria, who was drawing in and out the colored wools on the table-cover she was embroidering for Klaus.
"'I will wager, aunt, she will be back again to-morrow; do you think she will hold out long there in that mean room, with the uncomfortable bed on that neck-breaking sofa? Just wait; she will be here again before we know it.'
"The next day Anna Maria was sitting with her table-cover beside my bed; I had wrapped a rabbit-skin about my arms and shoulders, for the evil rheumatism. Such an attack sometimes chained me to my bed for a week or more, and this time I lay there feeling like a veritable culprit. I kept thinking of Susanna, and this tormented me into a state of nervousness. And there sat Anna Maria beside me, in her calm way taking one stitch after another. I followed her large yet beautifully formed hand, and the trefoil which grew under it; the lions supporting a shield were already finished, and the last leaf would be done to-day. 'Fear thy God, kill thine enemy, trust no friend,' was the strange motto of our family. It doubtless originated in those times when races lived in perpetual feud with one another, each ever ready for combat on the fortress of his fathers.
"'Anna Maria!' I began, at length.
"She started up out of a deep revery. 'Shall I read the paper to you?' she asked.
"'No, thank you,mon ange; but tell me, do you know if Susanna—is she——'
"'She is still with her Isa, aunt,' replied Anna Maria. 'I packed up a little basket of food for her this morning. Marieken carried it, and——'
"'Well, Anna Maria?'
"'Oh, well, she sits by the old woman's bedside, Marieken tells me, and round about her lie laces and ribbons and flowers; Susanna is making a new hat or two for herself. Marieken says she had no eyes for my appetizing basket; with cheeks as red as roses, she was all absorbed in her finery.'
"'Incorrigible!' I murmured; 'Anna Maria, why have you let her stay away? Is the old woman really so ill?' I added, out of humor.
"'Well, it did not seem to me so alarming from Marieken's account. If you were not a patient yourself, aunt, I would have driven over.'
"I lay back with a sigh. Of course, I had to be ill just now. Out of doors a cold wind was blowing over the bare fields; we should have an early autumn. My good times were over, and now were coming again the days of stove-heat and confinement to the house, of rabbit-skins and herb-bags.
"'I shall invite no one to the harvest festival this year, aunt,' began Anna Maria, after a pause. 'What would all the people do here without Klaus? It will give me no pleasure without him; on the contrary, it is painful to me.'
"'But Klaus wishes——'
"'Ah, aunt, but he will be contentau fond. I know him!' said the girl, with a smile.
"Just then Brockelmann announced Baron Stürmer. Like a flash of fire a sudden blush mounted to Anna Maria's face, the fingers which held the needle trembled, and her voice was unsteady.
"'Excuse me to the baron. I am prevented, unfortunately; aunt is ill.'
"Anna Maria had hitherto seen him only in the presence of others; she feared being alone with him; was that indifference?
"'Ask the baron to come up here,' said I with sudden resolution. 'I am certainly old enough to receive him in bed,' I added to Anna Maria.
"'Come,mon cherEdwin, if you are not afraid to see a sick old woman in bed,' I called to him, as he was now entering, and pointed to a chair by the head of my bed, opposite Anna Maria. Edwin Stürmer was the most versatile man I ever saw, and at once master of a situation. And so he was soon sitting by me, chatting pleasantly. The twilight deepened, and Anna Maria let her hands rest. She listened to us as we spoke of old times; I saw how her eyes were fixed on his face, how now and then a slight flush spread over it. She spoke little, and all at once rose and left the room.
"'Anna Maria is quiet, and looks badly,' I remarked; 'the work is too much for her.'
"He did not answer at once; then he said: 'She was always so still and cold, Aunt Rosamond.'
"'No, no, Stürmer, she is in trouble, she is worried about Klaus.'
"'Of all things in the world, that is a needless anxiety,' he returned, laughing. And evidently trying to get away from the subject, he asked: 'But where is Fräulein Mattoni?'
"'Nearer to you than you think, Edwin.'
"'With the old witch, her duenna?' he asked, with that indifference which involuntarily suggests the opposite quality.
"'Yes; the old woman is ill and Susanna is taking care of her.Eh bien, you will come, of course, to our harvest festival? Anna Maria intends to celebrate it very quietly, quiteentre nous; but you must come, Edwin.'
"'What?' he asked, absently.
"'For pity's sake, tell me where your thoughts are hiding?' I scolded, irritably.
"He laughed, and kissed my hand. 'Pardon, Fräulein Rosamond, I was still thinking about Klaus.'
"'And the result, Edwin?'
"'Is that I have come to none; he is really incomprehensible to me.'
"'Why?'
"'Do allow menotto say it,' he replied; 'but Ienvyhim.'
"'May I not also know what?'
"'Yes,' he said, rising, 'his cool temperament. How much needless agitation, how many sleepless nights one to whom such calmness has been given is spared!'
"'But Klaus is not cold; I do not know what you mean,' said I, reproachfully; 'as little cold as Anna Maria, and—as you.'
"He sat down again, and without regarding my objection, continued: 'For Heaven's sake, do tell me where they got this even temperament, this indifference, this coolness. The father was an eccentric, energetic man, warmly sensitive, even to passionateness—perhaps the mother was so?'
"'I assure you, Edwin,' I repeated, almost hurt, 'you know them both very little yet when you speak thus. They are neither indifferent nor cold-hearted; but both have, alas! inherited too much of the father's warm feelings and eccentricity. Believe me,' I added with a sigh. I was thinking of the scene in the Dambitz forge.
"Edwin Stürmer laughed. 'Well, well,' he said, 'I am far from reproaching Klaus with it; it is only incomprehensible to me. I suppose I seem odd to you?'
"'Oh, Stürmer, such a hot-head as you Klaus has never been, certainly, and I know that you owe to your vivacity my brother's love, which preferred you before his own son. You may be convinced that just that passionate, changeable nature of my brother has made the children so earnest, so deliberate.'
"'Klaus is the best, the noblest of men; he is my friend!' cried Stürmer, with warmth. 'Do I say, then, that I reproach him? But he has not learned to know life; he has never come from mere fidelity to duty and deliberation, to call his a moment of inspiration which is able to carry one quite out of himself; he has ever kept to the golden mean, blameless; he has always done enough, but not too much. In short—in short, such men are model men. But what life means, Aunt Rosamond, that he does not know, and onlyhecould trust himself——'
"He broke off suddenly. 'I should like to know how I came to deliver such a lecture to you,' he added, jokingly.
"It was almost dark in the room now. I could scarcely distinguish Stürmer's profile. He twisted his beard rapidly and nervously.
"'You may say what you will, Stürmer, but cold my two children are not,' I declared, and just at that moment Anna Maria entered.
"'A light will be brought directly,' she said, cheerfully, stepping over to her chair. 'Pardon me, baron, for staying away so long; I was kept by domestic duties, which occupy me more closely than when Klaus is at home.'
"He made no reply; I only saw him bow. Anna Maria could have said nothing more pedantic, I thought. Conversation would not flow, the light did not come. Anna Maria was just on the point of ringing for it when the bell in the church-tower began to ring in quick, broken strokes.
"'Fire!' cried Anna Maria, in alarm, hurrying to the window. Already there was a commotion in the court-yard; Stürmer had also thrown open a window. 'Where is the fire?' he called down.
"With beating heart I sat upright in bed. 'Where?' called Anna Maria, 'where is the fire, people?' Then the words were lost in the tumult.
"'In Dambitz,' at last came up the reply, amid all the tramping of horses and noise of the people. 'Sacre Dieu!' murmured Stürmer, overturning a chair in the darkness; 'Dambitz!'
"'I will light a candle,' said Anna Maria, calmly; 'give me a moment and I will go with you.' Below, the fire-engine was just rattling across the court. The candles flared up under Anna Maria's hand.
"'Send me a wrap, aunt, please; I wish to go over on Susanna's account; do not worry. I am ready, if you will take me with you in your carriage,' she added to Stürmer; and again a red glow spread over her face.
"'The carriage is ready, if you please, Fräulein.' He was already hurrying out of the room.
"'For God's sake, Anna Maria, bring back Susanna to me!' I cried. And then I lay alone for hours. Brockelmann came up once: 'The whole sky is red,' she informed me; 'it must be a big fire.' The little bell rang unremittingly its monotonous alarm, and before my eyes stood the burning houses, and I fancied Anna Maria beside Stürmer in the carriage, driving rapidly along the lonely highway, and Susanna in danger. And my thoughts flew to Klaus: 'Hold your hands over this girl. I will thank you for it all my life!' 'My God, protect her!' I prayed in my anxiety.
"And hour after hour passed, the bell became silent, after long pauses, and Anna Maria did not come. Brockelmann said the fire-light had disappeared. I heard the carriages and people returning home; then the court was quiet. And then Brockelmann came in again: 'It broke out in the second house from the forge, the lads say, and the forge is half-burned, too.' Oh, Heaven, and Anna Maria does not come!
"The old woman sat down by my bed. 'She does not think of herself,' she complained; 'she will run into the burning house if it is possible. Ah, if the master were only here!' Good Brockelmann, she knew better than Stürmer how to judge Anna Maria.
"'Fräulein,' she whispered, already following another train of thought, 'do you know—but you must not take it amiss—the baron comes so often now, and as I saw them both drive out of the yard to-day, then—I keep thinking she will marry him yet.'
"'Oh, how can you talk such nonsense?" said I, chiding these words in vexation.
"'Yet, I say, the next thing will be a wedding in the house!' declared the old woman. 'The great myrtle down-stairs is full of buds, and I also found a bridal rose in the garden. And last New Year's eve I listened at the door and heard the young master just saying: "Invite to the wedding!" And that will all come true. And then—but you must not act as if you knew it—I have had Anna Maria in my arms from the day she was born, and know her as no one else does, and I know how she cried over the note that the baron wrote her at the time when he went far away into the world, and, Fräulein, she always has it with her! Oh, I see so much that I am not intended to see; but she cannot dissemble, Anna Maria.'
"Ah! what the old woman was saying was of no importance to me; only news of Susanna; everything else later! 'My God, Susanna,' I murmured, 'if anything has happened to her!' And unable to stay quietly in bed any longer, I bade Brockelmann help me dress. At last a carriage rolled in at the gate and stopped before the house. I sat up in bed, and kept my eyes on the door. Susannamustcome! Brockelmann had hurried down-stairs; I heard Anna Maria's voice on the stairs, and her footsteps, and then she came in.
"'For God's sake, where is Susanna?' I cried to her.
"'With her old nurse, who has been made really ill from fright,' she said quietly, and sank exhausted into the chair by my bed.
"'But, Anna Maria,' I wailed, 'the forge is burned down!'
"'They are at the castle,' she replied, gently. 'Stürmer has given a shelter to all who were burned out.'
"'In the castle?' At the first moment the thought was quieting to me, but then my heart grew heavy. 'Oh, but that is impossible! How could you let Susanna accept the hospitality of an unmarried man? It is wrong of you; you are usually so observant of forms. Yououghtto have brought her with you, and the old woman too!' I had spoken impetuously, in my anxiety. Anna Maria gave me a strange look.
"'Isa is so ill she was in no condition to make the journey hither,' she replied. 'But Susanna lies across her bed with torn hair and face bathed with tears; she is nearer to her than all of us, and at such a moment, aunt, one does not think of—etiquette.' I first noticed now how pale and exhausted Anna Maria looked. Her fair hair had fallen down, and one golden tress falling over the white forehead lay on her plain dark-green dress; her eyes were cast down and her lips quivered slightly.
"'Poor child!' I cried, seizing her hands. 'It has been too much, and here am I reproving you!'
"She let her hand remain in mine, but did not look up. 'I am quite well,' she replied; 'but it is painful—to behold human misery and not be able to help. It was fearful, aunt! And it has cost one human life—nearly two.' Her voice was strangely lifeless as she said this. 'An old man,' she continued, 'in the act of saving his cow from the burning stable, was buried beneath the falling building. Stürmer carried out his grand-daughter, who was trying to help him, unhurt—but it was at the very last moment—a falling beam injured his arm.'
"She had spoken in snatches, as if it were hard for her to breathe. And now the peculiar sobbing sound came from her breast; I knew that so well, for even as a child she had thus suppressed a burst of tears. I grasped her hands more firmly; she was feverishly hot, and her bosom heaved violently.
"'The splendid, warm-hearted man! Just the same to-day as he ever was!' said I, gently. 'God be praised for having protected him!'
"Then we sat silent for a long time. The candles in front of the mirror had burned low, and flickering they struggled for existence; and the clock on the console ticked restlessly. I longed to beg the girl beside me: 'Anna Maria, confide in me; it is not yet too late! See, I know now that you love Stürmer—since to-day I am sure of it. Anna Maria, it is not yet too late!' But how could I do it? She had never given me the slightest right, never allowed me to share in what moved her heart. Oh, that she would come of her own accord, then, and speak, that she might know how much easier it is for two to bear a burden.
"I pressed her hand, beseechingly. 'Anna Maria, my dear child!' I whispered. Then she roused herself as out of a confused dream, and pushed the hair from her forehead.
"'Susanna?' she asked; 'Susanna got off with a fright. I led her over to the castle myself, and Stürmer's old servant carried Isa; they are safe. As soon as the old woman can be moved I shall have her brought here, of course; to-day it was impossible. The excitement might be bad for Susanna, too, for such a passionate outburst of grief I never dreamed of. She loves the old creature more than I ever mistrusted, and her cry: "Isa, Isa, if you die I have no one else in the world!" was repeated till she broke down from exhaustion.'
"I listened as if stunned. 'Anna Maria,' I said, 'I must go over to-morrow.'
"She nodded. 'If it is possible—for I should be glad to avoid it."
"'It must be possible, Anna Maria. Go and rest, we are both tired; sleep well.'
"Wall, there I lay, and no sleep came to my eyes. Klaus and Susanna, Anna Maria and Stürmer, revolved in wildest confusion in my brain. I started up out of my dozing, for I thought I heard Susanna's voice: 'Isa, Isa, if you die I have no one else in the world!' And I dreamed that I cried in anger to her: 'Ungrateful one, have you not more than a thousand others—have you not the heart of the best and truest of men?' And I awoke again with a cry, for I had seen Stürmer hurry into the burning house, and seen it fall on him; and Anna Maria stood by, pale and calm, with disordered locks of fair hair over her white forehead; her eyes looked fixedly and gloomily on that ruin, but she could neither weep nor speak."
"It was a fearful night! I was almost astonished to see the bright sunshine streaming in my window, and the blue sky, the next morning. Brockelmann helped me dress, for my shoulder was still painful.
"Some trouble oppressed the old woman; it was always to be observed that when anything weighed on her heart she used to smooth her hands over the hem of her apron, and therewith take aim at the person on whom she had designs. For a little while I watched it to-day, but when, after tying my shoes, she remained sitting on the deal floor, stroking her dazzlingly white apron, and seeking for a way to begin her speech, evidently a difficulty to her, I said: 'Well, speak out, Brockelmann; what is it?'
"But instead of an answer she threw her apron over her face and began to weep bitterly.
"'Do write, gracious Fräulein, for the master to come back soon, or things will not go right in my life-time with Anna Maria,' she sobbed. 'It eats into my heart like a worm that he went away without a good-by. She says nothing, but, Fräulein, I have known her ever since she was born; I know her as well as I do myself. She stays for hours in the master's room, and when she comes out her eyes are red with weeping, and then it is always: "Brockelmann, the master would certainly do this so, and wish that so," and "When the master is here," or "When the master comes," is the third word with her. When Christian brings the mail she runs out into the court to meet him, and the first time the master wrote I was just going through the room, as she read the letter. She did not see me, but I saw how the letter trembled in her hands, and then she said to herself: "He is different from what he used to be; it is past!" And then she got up and went into the garden, and I looked after her and watched her as I used to when she was yet a wild thing with long braids. And then she walked up and down by the spot where her mother lies buried, up and down, up and down, oh! certainly for an hour. It was nothing to her that it rained, and that the wind blew her half to pieces. At last I went out there and asked her something about the housekeeping; I could not see it any longer. Then she came in with me. But last night, when she came back from the fire, when I had brought her a glass of mulled wine, she looked so wretched. When I knew she was in her own room I took it to her—I did not wish to disturb her here. But listen, Fräulein Rosamond, when I went in there Anna Maria had just been crying, crying as if her heart would break. She did not see me; she had laid her head on the table, and on Herr Klaus's picture, and her whole body shook and trembled. Then I closed the door again softly, for, believe me, it would have been dreadful to her to have had any one see that she was crying. Indeed, she does not like it if anybody cries aloud. But to-day I could not rest. Only write, Fräulein; when the master is here all will be well again!'
"'Ah, good old Brockelmann, if that would settle it! Yes, Klaus would come, but it would never be again as it used to be, never again!'
"The old woman took my silence for acquiescence. 'And, Fräulein,' she continued, drying her eyes, 'I know perfectly well since when things have been different. If I had had the power I would have said to Christian at the time when the coach came driving into the yard with the theatrical people: "Turn around, for Heaven's sake, Christian; these are birds which are not suited to this nest!" But, good heavens, some of us are silent, and see and hear! The master is so kind-hearted, Fräulein, so kind-hearted; God grant that it may remain kind-heartedness! I could have fretted myself to death when it was rumored in the servants' hall, and in the village, that the Ma'm'selle who had snowed down was not unpleasing to the master. In Rieke, it has gone to a blockhead; she was not bad, but what is the use—the talk is once out—if Fräulein Anna Maria only doesn't hear of it, although it is nothing but lies,' she continued, after a short pause, and looked at me confidently, 'for the master could have the fairest and best any day, and doesn't need to wait upon such a vagabond thing, yet it would make the Fräulein ill if she were to hear of it.'
"'So the servants are already talking about it,' said I softly, when the old woman had gone. 'And they are not far from the truth! Brockelmann, too, only sings so loud because she has fears, and she wanted to know what I thought of it. But Anna Maria will not believe, Anna Maria has other troubles.'
"As I went down to get into the carriage which was to carry me to Dambitz, Anna Maria was just coming out of Klaus's room. She was quiet and friendly as usual; there was no sign of yesterday's tumult. She asked how I had slept, and said she had just come in from the fields. 'The harvest is a blessing of God this year,' she added; 'look at the crops as you drive past the rye-fields. How pleased Klaus will be!' And as I was sitting in the carriage, she put a little parcel into my hand: 'Give that to Stürmer for the burned-out people, will you, please? Klaus will approve.' She was blushing crimson. 'It is out of the milk-fund; you know that is my own!'
"Touched, I nodded to her, and then the carriage rolled away with me, in the misty autumn morning. What a refreshing odor came from the pine-forests; a golden mist hung over the distant heath, and the sky seemed higher and bluer than I had seen it for a long time. And yet it seemed as if I were breathing the heavy air before a thunder-storm the nearer I came to Dambitz and the shaded manor-house. We drove past the burned houses; the charred beams and timbers were still smoking, and thin columns of smoke circled up from the ruins; a loathsome odor lay about the unfortunate spot, but human hands were already at work again. The blacksmith's shop was half demolished, the gabled wall was warped by the heat of the fire, and the blacksmith's young wife was bravely rummaging among her household goods, which had been thrown,nolens volens, into the street, a promiscuous heap of beds, clothing, and furniture. A little woman was sitting on a chest, weeping bitterly; it was her husband who had met with the fatal accident last night, the coachman told me. A young girl of perhaps sixteen was hunting about the half-burned and partially wet rubbish; her eyes were swollen with weeping.
"'You poor people,' thought I; 'no one can give you back what has been taken from you, but we will help to replace the earthly property.' And I looked at the small but heavy roll in my hand; it was a not insignificant sum in gold. Well for him who can give, and gives gladly and lovingly!
"We now drove along by the park wall; the great gate of skilfully wrought iron stood open; the luxuriant foliage of the beautiful park here parted, and let the eye roam over velvety green lawns and broad flower-beds to the white, castle-like buildings. Awnings protected the terrace from the sun's rays, and a black and white flag waved gayly in the morning wind. A delicious freshness lay over the garden; not a yellow leaf was yet to be seen on the broad gravel-walk; everywhere most painstaking neatness.
"I called to the coachman to stop, and had myself lifted out of the carriage, so as to walk through the park. I do not know myself how the idea came into my head. How long it was since I had been here! I was then still a girl; my sister-in-law was by my side, and Klaus and Edwin, wild lads, rushing about us. I felt very strangely; there was still the little bridge of tree-trunks, the ingeniously planned moat, which always used to be dry; to-day water was splashing in it. The trees had grown taller, the shrubbery more luxuriant, and a marble Diana stood out against the green of the taxus-hedge. Stürmer's taste for the beautiful struck me at every step. At home no one thought of marble statues and English turf; at home the wish had never yet been spoken to see such jets of crystal water as those shooting up before the group of fine old elms; there was still the same old garden with its gnarled oaks, its primitive arbors, its flower-sprinkled grass-plots; but it was pleasant and home-like, as it is to-day.
"I followed a shady path which I knew would bring me to the side of the house, but all at once I stopped short. I could not be deceived; that was Susanna's ringing laugh, floating like the note of a nightingale through the shrubbery. Susanna in the garden and Susanna laughing? I walked on and went up on a little knoll surrounded by old lindens; in the middle was a Flora on a stone pedestal; monthly roses were blooming in the flower-beds, mingling their fragrance with that of the mignonette. At one side was a group of pretty garden furniture, and in one of the seats was Susanna, leaning back and looking with a smile of delight at the spray of roses which Stürmer had just offered her.
"He stood in front of her, his arm still in a sling, and looked down at her. She had evidently made her toilet with the greatest care; the time at Isa's sick-bed had not passed unused, it seemed. She still wore a black dress, but her white neck gleamed beneath a quantity of delicate black lace, and filmy lace also fell over her arms; the fichu knotted below her bosom was held together by a pale rose, and there was also a rose in her hair; Susanna Mattoni looked charming in her half-Spanish costume. And yet if, with disorderly hair and careless toilet, and, instead of the lace, one of Anna Maria's aprons, I had found her at Isa's bed, could I have detected in her face a single sign of the fearful night before, I would have thrown my arms about the child and said: 'Come, Susanna, my little Susanna, your refuge is at Bütze.' But now? But thus?
"My heart seemed almost paralyzed. In another moment I was standing by Susanna, and was able to say pleasantly that I had come to take her home.
"Stürmer drew my hand to his lips, much pleased, 'Ah! my dearest, best Aunt Rosamond, again at Dambitz at last," he cried. Susanna stood as if petrified by my unexpected appearance. 'Well, my child,' I said to her, as Stürmer, after pushing up a chair for me, went into the castle; 'how is your Isa? She is quite well again, is she?'
"Susanna shook her head. 'No,' she replied, 'Isa is still very weak.'
"'Who takes care of her then?' I asked, sharply.
"'Herr von Stürmer has engaged a woman to nurse her,' she informed me, 'who probably understands it better than I.'
"'And you were on the point of returning to Bütze, were you not?' I asked, severely.
"Susanna bent down her crimson face, and uttered a low 'Yes!' She had understood me.
"'Allons donc, my child, we will not delay.' I rose and went forward; slowly she followed me, with a decided expression of ill-humor. At the front steps of the castle we met Stürmer, a look of happy surprise still on his face.
"'Oh, dear Aunt Rosamond, you will breakfast with me!' he begged, giving me his well arm to escort me up the steps. 'Such a rare occasion!' And he gave me a look so winning, so truly delighted that it would have been more than uncivil to refuse. And the personality of my old favorite exercised such a charm over me that, smiling, I let myself be dragged away.
"Susanna flew past us up the steps; her lace-trimmed skirts stood out as she ran, fluttering about her light feet; the rose fell out of her hair and dropped in front of Stürmer. He picked it up, and held it absently in his hand. Susanna disappeared behind the glass door of the vestibule; Stürmer's eyes, which had followed her, now looked at me again, and our eyes met and remained for a moment fixed on each other, as if each would read the other's thoughts. Then he silently led me through the rooms of his house.
"How often had I been here before! I had always liked to think of the comfortable great rooms, which, with their oak wainscoting and huge tiled stoves projecting far out from the walls, presented such an attractive appearance to the half-frozen guests who had come in sleighs from Bütze. It had always been a dream of mine to see Anna Maria ruling here some day, but the picture was erased from my mind when I entered the first room.
"Where were they, the comfortable rooms, the dark oak wainscoting, the old tiled stoves? Gilding and colored mosaics shone, with a foreign air, on the walls; odd draperies concealed doors and windows; low, dark-red couches in place of the sofas; fragile little bronze tables, and vases; everywhere mirrors reaching to the floor; groups of exotic flowers in the corners; a Smyrna rug on the floor, in which the foot sank deep. Astonished, I stood still on the threshold.
"'Mon Dieu, Edwin, have you fallen among the Turks?'
"'It is my furnishing from Stamboul, that I brought home with me,' he replied, simply. 'But, alas! I could not charm hither the view. Imagine that wall gone, Fräulein Rosamond, and in its place slender marble pillars, forming a covered walk, and then imagine yourself looking out between them on the blue sea; see the sweet pines, swaying in the fresh sea-breeze; yonder a cypress-wood, and on the waving billows a hundred white sails; and imagine a child of that South, slender as a gazelle, leaning on the balustrade, a pair of sparkling dark eyes shining through a white veil—then you have what I saw daily in those beautiful days.'
"How did it happen? In the midst of this imaginary picture which he had just drawn for me I saw Anna Maria standing, in her dark dress, her basket of keys on her arm, and saw her great clear eyes wander in astonishment over this splendor. I smiled involuntarily; I could never imagine Anna Maria resting, in sweet indolence, on those cushions. I had to laugh at this idea, but it was a bitter laugh, and pained me.
"I followed him through several rooms; everywhere luxury, foreign furnishings; but at least the chairs were sensible. Everywhere a perfume of roses, costly rugs, a profusion of foreign draperies. In a one-windowed room was a little table spread for three persons, shining with glass and silver. Edwin escorted me to the seat of honor. 'Your little protégée will appear directly,' he said gayly. And kissing my hand, he assured me again how happy he was to have me here at last. 'I really do not know why you have not visited my solitary abode long before,' he said, jokingly.
"'Why have you never told me, Edwin, that you have so many treasures from the "Thousand and One Nights" here?' I returned.
"'I do not like to seem boastful,' he said, offering me a mayonnaise, which I declined, taking some cold fowl. 'My acquaintances have looked at the thingsen passant, and Klaus has been here often. I really supposed you were not interested in such things at Bütze.'
"Indeed, Klaus had told us nothing about all this; at the most had mentioned the costly furnishings and various rare articles from foreign countries; he had himself no fancy for curiosities of that sort. Just then Edwin Stürmer rose. I thought I saw a faint smile on his lips, which vexed me, I know not why. But it vanished again at once, and gave way to a different expression. He opened the door and let Susanna in; he had probably heard her step. She sat down opposite him at the richly appointed table; above her dark head waved the fan-shaped leaf of a great palm, and white blossoms crowded against the back of her chair; from a group of southern plants in another corner rose the Venus de Milo in purest marble.
"And yet this sumptuous little room seemed but to form the frame for Susanna's own peculiar beauty. She looked sad; she ate nothing, and only now and then lifted her slender cup to moisten her lips; she did not speak, either, and when she raised her lashes tears shone in the dark eyes. Stürmer was also quieter; he spoke of the fire at last, and told me that work was to be begun on the new buildings to-morrow.
"I delivered Anna Maria's little parcel to him; he grew red for a moment, but did not thank me with the warmth I had expected.
"'And now,' said I, rising, after the dessert, 'I will relieve you of a burden; I will drive Isabella and Susanna home. In a bachelor's establishment such patients must be more than a disturbance. Susanna, have the kindness to conduct me to Isa.'
"Susanna's eyes sought Stürmer, but he turned away. 'I fear the old woman is not yet able to be moved,' he said, politely. 'Besides, she is no burden to me. She cannot, to be sure, find such a nurse as at Bütze; we have to depend upon hired persons.' He offered me his arm and led me along the hall to a door which Susanna, running ahead, opened, and then he withdrew.
"Isabella lay in a beautiful large room, in a fine bed with white hangings; evidently a guest chamber. It looked out on the garden, and great linden-trees shaded the windows from the sun's rays. That Isabella and Susanna both slept here was evident. There was a second bed, still unmade, the pillows tumbled over each other; and Susanna's whole stock of knick-knacks and trumpery lay, just as it had been brought hither from the burning house, with the dress, cooking utensils, and salve-boxes of the other, tumbled together on the floor. An old woman in a neat dress and white cap stood among them, trying to restore order. She was probably the nurse of whom Susanna had spoken.
"I went straight up to Isa's bed. 'Mademoiselle Pfannenschmidt, are you well enough to drive to Bütze with Susanna and me?' I asked.
"'No!' she replied, looking at me very angrily.
"'Well, then, come after us as soon as you are well enough,' said I, coldly; 'are you ready, Susanna?'
"'Susanna stays withme!' she declared, her voice trembling with anger.
"'She is going with me,' I replied, quietly; 'spare yourself all further pains. I shall not leave Susanna in the house of an unmarried man; according toourviews, it is improper.'
"'Under my charge?' shrieked Isabella, sitting up in bed with a jerk; 'under my charge?'
"I shrugged my shoulders in silence, and turned to Susanna; she stood motionless, and looked at Isa.
"'Will you take away the girl a second time?' cried Isa, wringing her thin hands. 'You will not even let me have the child on my death-bed? Susanna, my darling, stay with me!'
"'You are far from dying, my dear,' said I, in a clear voice. 'Have the kindness to submit quietly to my arrangements; they are for Susanna's good.' She was silent, and looked on, as I put a shawl over Susanna's shoulders, pulled out her straw hat from under a heap of clothing, and put it on her head.
"'I shall ask Baron Stürmer to have you driven to Bütze as soon as you are at all well enough,' said I, turning to Isa again; 'till then I know you will be well cared for. Farewell.' Without further ado, I pushed Susanna toward the door, and heard once more the shrill cry: 'Susanna, Susanna, stay here!'
"She stopped, and looked at me as if she meant to defy me and run back.
"'En avant!my child,' said I, energetically; 'you have been away from Bütze too long already; I shall never forgive myself for having let you go at all.' She was pale, and I saw her clench her little hands; but she followed me.
"Stürmer was waiting for us at the carriage, which was standing before the front steps. He was holding the spray of roses which Susanna had left lying in the garden in the morning, and handed it to her with a bow which, in my opinion, was lower than was really necessary. I could not see the look he gave her with it, for his back was turned to me, but I saw a crimson glow mount to Susanna's cheeks and a bright look flash over to him from under her long lashes, which alarmed me. I scarcely heard Stürmer commission me with greetings for Anna Maria, adding that he would bring his thanks himself for the money. I drew down my veil and motioned to the coachman to start, and we rattled across the court and out on the highway. Susanna's head was turned around, and her eyes sped over the rows of windows of the stately house; two shining drops escaped from them and fell on the roses.
"How it came about I know not, but all at once I had seized her firmly by the arm. 'There before you lies Bütze, Susanna Mattoni!' I cried, sternly. She started, and gave a little cry; her face had grown pale, but her eyes sparkled in rebellion.
"'You punish me like a naughty child!' she cried, her lips quivering. 'What wrong have I done? I followed you without opposition.'
"'Ask your own heart, Susanna,' I returned, gravely. She blushed, and then began to cry bitterly, incessantly.
"'Isa! Isa!' she sobbed.
"'Are you really crying about Isa?' I asked, gently now, and took her hand. 'I do not believe it, Susanna; you have some other grief. Only place confidence in me.CouldI not help you, if you were frank?'
"She pushed away my hand. 'No, never, never!' she burst out, violently.
"'But if I only knew what is the matter with you, Susanna, I might, with a word——'
"She stopped crying, and a defiant expression came over her face. 'I really want no sympathy,' she said, with a gesture of inimitable pride. 'There is nothing the matter with me; am I not to be allowed to cry when the person who watched over my childhood lies ill and alone in a strange house?'
"I was silent; I thought where I had found her to-day—not indeed at the sick-bed! And she understood my silence better than my words, for she dropped her eyes in embarrassment, and remained quiet during the whole drive. Ah, and it was such a sunny day! I followed a lark with my eyes, as it joyously and on trembling wings rose high in the blue sky, till it looked like a mere dot. A herd of deer ran away over the stubble as we drove quickly past; in the meadows over yonder the peasant's cows were feeding; far in the distance earth and sky blended in a blue haze; and now the roofs of Bütze emerged, peaceful and sunny, from the dark foliage of the oaks and elms—the dear old father-house! To me it seemed all at once as if I were coming home from a long journey from distant lands.
"Anna Maria was standing in the door-way, with apron and bunch of keys, as ever. She had a few beautiful white asters in her hand, and as Susanna came up the steps she said, drawing the girl to her: 'Thank God, Susanna, that you have returned unharmed; it was a bad night!' And she shyly put the flowers in the girl's little hand, beside the bunch of roses. One could see that she was really pleased. 'How is Isa doing?' she asked, 'and how is Stürmer's arm?' She turned to me when she saw that Susanna had been crying, and on my reply that the condition of both was hopeful, she turned again to Susanna.
"'Do not cry,' and a lovely expression beautified her serious young face; 'as soon as Isa can drive she is coming, and you will nurse each other quite well again.'
"Anna Maria seemed transformed; there was a tenderness in her actions, in her voice, which only the consciousness of a great happiness, an endless gratitude for something undeserved, can give. This tone cut my heart like a hundred knives.
"Susanna begged to be excused from the dinner-table, on the plea of a headache, and she did not come down to the garden-parlor during the afternoon; she was sulky. Anna Maria had taken up her sewing, and sat opposite me in the window-recess; it was quiet and cosey in the comfortable room, so peaceful—and yet the threatening storm was drawing near with great haste, to drive away our peace for a long time.
"'I would like to know if Klaus would miss me if I—were suddenly no longer here; if I should die, for instance, aunt?' asked Anna Maria all at once, quite abruptly. Then she quickly laid her hand on my arm: 'No, I beg you,' said she, preventing my answer; 'I know of course he would miss me, miss me very much!'
"After we had sat silent together for a little while the coachman entered with the mail-bag, which he handed to Anna Maria. She felt in her pocket for the key, opened the bag, and drew out letters and newspapers.
"'Ah, from Klaus!' she cried, in joyful surprise; 'and what a thick letter, aunt; just look!' She held up a large envelope. How strange,' she remarked then; 'it is for you, aunt.'
"I started as if I had been apprehended of a crime. 'Give it to me!' I begged, and broke the crested seal with trembling hand, for I suspected what it was. An enclosure for Anna Maria fell out of the letter addressed to me, and I stealthily threw my handkerchief over it—Anna Maria had opened a business letter—and began to read:
"'Dearest Aunt: When I went away a few weeks ago, I said to you at the last moment I should write to Anna Maria to tell her that I love Susanna Mattoni, that she is to be my wife. Meanwhile, I had given up the idea, and thought I would speak quietly with Anna Maria on my return. But now I am again of the opinion that a written confession is best. When I ask you now to give the enclosed letter to Anna Maria, it is chiefly for this reason, that she may have a support in you. If I were to write to her directly, she would keep the matter all to herself, she is so reserved; but in this way she must speak, and will be more easily reconciled to what cannot be altered. That it will be hard for her I cannot conceal from myself, after various scenes between us. But my decision stands irrevocably firm. I love Susanna, and God will help us over the near future, and not separate the hearts of brother and sister, who have so long clung to one another in true love. I shall come as soon as I have news; the longing takes hold of me more than I can tell.'
"'Dearest Aunt: When I went away a few weeks ago, I said to you at the last moment I should write to Anna Maria to tell her that I love Susanna Mattoni, that she is to be my wife. Meanwhile, I had given up the idea, and thought I would speak quietly with Anna Maria on my return. But now I am again of the opinion that a written confession is best. When I ask you now to give the enclosed letter to Anna Maria, it is chiefly for this reason, that she may have a support in you. If I were to write to her directly, she would keep the matter all to herself, she is so reserved; but in this way she must speak, and will be more easily reconciled to what cannot be altered. That it will be hard for her I cannot conceal from myself, after various scenes between us. But my decision stands irrevocably firm. I love Susanna, and God will help us over the near future, and not separate the hearts of brother and sister, who have so long clung to one another in true love. I shall come as soon as I have news; the longing takes hold of me more than I can tell.'
"I let the sheet drop, the letters danced before my eyes. How should I begin to make this news known to her?
"As I rose hastily, the letter fell at Anna Maria's feet. She raised her head and looked searchingly at me, and saw that I was making a great effort to compose myself.
"'Aunt Rosamond!' she cried, stooping and picking up the letter, 'what is it? Bad news from Klaus? Please, speak!' She knelt by my chair, and her anxious eyes tried to read my face.
"'No, no, my child!' I caught hold of the letter which she held in her hand.
"'It is certainly to me!' she cried, quickly taking it back.
"All at once I became master of my trembling nerves. 'It is to you, Anna Maria,' I agreed, 'and contains——'
"'I will see for myself, aunt,' she said, and there was a tone of infinite anxiety in her voice. She rose and sat down in one of the deep window-niches of the hall. I could not see her face from my seat; I heard only the rattling of the paper in the stillness, and my heart thumped as if it would burst. The anxious pause seemed to me an eternity; then a cry of pain sounded through the room. I sprang toward Anna Maria; her fair head lay on the window-seat, her face was buried in her hands, and an almost unearthly groaning was wrung from her breast.
"'For God's sake, Anna Maria!' I cried, embracing her. 'Compose yourself, be calm; you do him injustice; he is not lying on his bier!' But she did not stir; she groaned as if suffering from severe physical pain.
"'Anna Maria, my dear Anna Maria!' I cried, weeping.
"'For that, ah, for that, all that I have suffered!' she cried out, and raised her pale face, transfixed with pain. She stretched up her arms, and wrung her clasped hands. 'My only brother!' she whispered, 'my only brother!' Then, springing up impetuously, she ran out.
"As if stunned, I remained behind; I had not expected this; for such an expression of pain I was not prepared.
"And the old house was still; my steps creaked on the cement floor of the corridor before Anna Maria's room, and a long, long time I stood there and listened for a sound, but it remained quiet behind the closed door. The autumn evening drew on, night closed in, solemn and clear shone the stars from the sky upon the earth beneath. 'What art thou, child of man, with thy small trouble? Look up to us and fold thy hands,' said they in their dumb language. And I clasped my hands. 'He who created the stars to give us light by night will also lighten this spot!' I whispered.
"Eleven o'clock struck as I knocked at Susanna's door. She did not answer. I went softly into the room; a candle on the mantel, just on the point of going out, threw its unsteady light on the girl. She was lying on one side, her face turned toward the room, a smile on the red lips; beside the bed Stürmer's spray of roses, carefully placed in water.
"It was a dismal morning that followed. Anna Maria remained in her room; she did not answer our knocks, and there was no movement within. Brockelmann's eyes were red with weeping; she shook her head, and went about the house on tip-toe, as if there were a dead person in it. I was in sheer despair, and limped from Anna Maria's door to my room, and back again. The bailiffs came and inquired for her, and went away astonished—she did not appear.
"About eight o'clock I went softly to Susanna's room. She had just risen, and was arranging her hair. The windows were opened wide; through the branches of the trees golden sunbeams slipped into the room and played over the young creature who, trifling and smiling and fresh as a rose, stood, in her white dressing-sack, before the mirror. She did not hear me enter, for she went on trilling a little song half aloud; clear as a bell the tones floated out on the clear morning air. Isa's death-bed was forgotten; ah! and something else, probably.
"I closed the door again cautiously; I was never so anxious before in my life.
"'Is Fräulein Anna Maria ill?' asked Susanna, as she found only two places set at dinner. She had come from the garden, and had a bunch of white asters at her bosom, and her eyes shone with delight.
"'I think so,' said I, softly, and folded my hands for the grace. Susanna showed a pitying face for a moment, and then began to chatter; she was in a most agreeable mood.
"The day wore on. Anna Maria remained invisible. Brockelmann was quite beside herself. 'She is crying, she is crying as if her heart would break,' she said, coming into my room before going to bed.
"'She is crying? That is good!' said I, relieved.
"'She has never cried so much in all her life before, whispered the old woman; 'something must have happened that cuts deep into her heart.'
"'I cannot confide it to you, Brockelmann,' I replied, 'but you will know it soon.' I was sorry for the old woman; she was trembling in every limb.
"'Oh, I can guess it already, Fräulein,' she said; 'it would surprise me above all things if it did not come from that quarter!' She pointed in the direction of Susanna's room. 'One woman's head can ruin a whole country!'
"The following day was a Sunday, and a Sunday stillness lay over the house and court; even more than ordinarily, for the house down-stairs was stiller than usual, as Anna Maria had not yet left her room.
"Sadly I got ready for church, and then went to Susanna's door to call for her. As I looked in I saw her still lying in bed, still sleeping, her limbs stretched out, like a tired kitten. On the whole, I was glad; I would rather go alone to-day, with my heavy heart.
"The little church was unusually full on this Sunday, especially of Dambitz people. A danger commonly encountered, a great misfortune, brought them hither. They wanted, too, to hear what the clergyman had to say about the calamity of the fire. So it happened that the little nave was full to the last seat; only the seats of the gentry, above, were empty.
"'What God does is well!' sang the congregation. I folded my hands over my book, and tears fell on them. I spoke no words, but more warmly I surely never prayed, for Klaus, for Anna Maria. God knows all the sad thoughts that came to me. I had already fought in vain against one of them the night before: 'What if Anna Maria were not to yield; if she were, perhaps, to go out from the ancestral home, in defiance, in order to live no longer with Susanna? Oh! it was possible, with her temperament, and then what would become of them both?'
"Just then the door of the gallery moved, creaking slightly, and there, on the threshold, stood—Anna Maria! Was it really she? Her face was pale, with deep bluish shadows under the eyes; and beside her, even paler, her great eyes directed toward me, as if seeking help, stood—Susanna! Anna Maria held her hand and led her to the chair in which the mistress of Bütze had always sat, and which, of late, had been Anna Maria's seat.
"The girl sank into it, a crimson glow now on her cheeks, and bent her head. Anna Maria sat behind her, and folded her hands. It had been done, then; she had yielded to her brother's will. What she had suffered in that her face showed plainly.
"Anna Maria raised her head only once during the sermon, when Pastor Grüne, in speaking of the Dambitz fire, mentioned the man who had perished, and, in a few moving words, uttered a prayer of thanksgiving that God had protected him who had risked his own life to save another, almost lost. Then she cast a long look across at Stürmer's empty seat. Susanna, too, raised her lashes, but dropped them at once, shyly, as if she were doing something wrong.
"On the way home Anna Maria walked beside me with her usual firm step, Susanna's hand in hers. There was something solemn in her manner, and when we stood in the garden-parlor, the tall, fair girl drew Susanna to her.
"'Make him happy,' she bade her softly; 'a nobler, a better man does not exist. God has bestowed a very rich happiness upon you.' She kissed the girl on the forehead, and went down into the garden. But Susanna suddenly fell on my neck and broke out in convulsive sobs.
"'Why, Susanna, are you not happy?' I asked. No answer; she only clung more closely to me.
"'Have you thought that you have now a home and the heart of a noble man; that you are his bride-elect, loved beyond everything?'
"She gave a shiver, and stopped crying.
"'Come, Susanna,' I begged, kindly; 'you belong to us now; you have now a family home and I am now your aunt,' I added, jokingly. 'Stop crying. Come, let us go down to Anna Maria; you have not said a friendly word to her yet.'
"She threw her head back, and seemed to be deliberating for a moment; then she ran out. I heard her swiftly retreating steps in the corridor. 'I will seek Anna Maria, at least to learn what has passed,' I murmured, arid turned at once to the garden. So it had come about. Klaus was betrothed; how often I had imagined it formerly. And to-day? A sort of film came over my eyes, and the grayest of gray seemed the world round about.
"Anna Maria was standing by the little pond, looking into the brown water; she gave me her hand, quietly and kindly.
"'My dear Anna Maria,' said I, 'God leads human hearts together.'
"She nodded mutely.
"'Shall you write Klaus?' I continued.
"'It is already done. I wrote on that night,' she replied.
"'It has not been easy for you, Anna Maria?'
"She raised her hand, defensively. 'I love Klaus very much,' she said, gently.
"'When did you speak with Susanna, Anna Maria; may I know?'
"'This morning,' she replied. 'I went to her, as Klaus wished. He wishes the marriage to be very soon, and will return just a little while before, so that Susanna may not need to seek another shelter beforehand. So she will pass her time of being engaged without her lover. He does not wish that the engagement should be made public, either; he does not intend to give notice of his marriage until after the ceremony is over.'
"She had spoken very fast, and was silent now, drawing long breaths.
"'And did he write you everything, Anna Maria, in that letter, day before yesterday?'
"'Everything, aunt.'
"'And Susanna?'
"'I do not know,' she replied; 'I did not look at her, and she did not speak. Perhaps happiness makes one dumb?' she added, questioningly. It sounded as if she meant: 'I do not know—I am sure I do not know—what happiness is.'
"'Tell me just one thing, dear, good child,' I begged, seizing her hands. 'Did the thought really never come to you that Klaus might have a feeling of affection for this beautiful young creature?'
"She was silent for awhile, and her breast heaved with suppressed sobs. 'No,' she said, 'I had never thought that he would stoop for a poison-flower——'
"An infinite bitterness, a deep woe, lay in these few words, and as if she had said too much, she whispered: 'He is my only brother!' And then, no longer able to control her emotion, she cried, throwing her hands over her face: 'And I cannot hold him back, I cannot keep him from a disappointment; I have no right to!' It sounded like a wild cry of pain. And a hot stream of tears gushed forth between her fingers.
"I stepped up to her to embrace her consolingly, but she hastily averted it. 'Let me alone; I did not mean to cry, I thought I was stronger.' And drawing out her handkerchief, she turned into the nearest shady path.