Meanwhile Gustave had also returned slowly to the house. As he entered the drawing-room, Jessie came to him full of uneasiness.
"Mr. Sandow, pray, pray tell me what has happened. Ten minutes ago Frida rushed into my room, threw her arms round my neck, and wished me good-bye. She seemed quite beside herself, and declared that she must go, she could not stay another hour, would answer no questions, but referred me to you for all explanations. What has happened?"
Gustave shrugged his shoulders.
"What I feared, if the discovery could not be postponed. An accident betrayed our secret to my brother, and we were obliged to confess the truth. His auger at the deception burst forth with great violence, and was poured unsparingly upon us both. Frida could not support this, she declared she would go at once, and now is, most probably, making the necessary preparations for her journey."
"And you are not with her!" cried Jessie. "You have not protected and supported her! Can you leave her alone at such a moment? Go to her!"
"I should only be in the way," declared Gustave, with a composure which appeared to Miss Clifford as the height of selfishness. "What remains to be done Frida must fight out alone. I may, at last, be allowed to think of myself."
His eyes, which rested on Jessie's face, beamed again as when Frida had made a certain revelation to him. Lost in this gaze, he quite forgot that his words must give rise to fresh misunderstanding, and this indeed happened in fullest measure.
"All this while you have only thought too much of yourself!" replied Jessie, her excitement rising, "but if there is one spark of love in your breast, you must feel that your place is at the side of your betrothed bride."
Gustave smiled, and stepped close to the indignant girl, while he said impressively--
"Frida is not, and has never been, betrothed to me."
"Not betrothed to you?"
"No; if you remember, it was expressly as myprotégéeI introduced her. It was you, Miss Clifford, who took the other connection for granted, and I left you in your error. But now, when I have ceased to play the part of protector, I may acknowledge to you that my inclinations were directed to quite another quarter."
He bent over her hand, and pressed a passionate kiss upon it, which amply explained his words, but the game which he had so boldly carried on was now to be revenged on him. He had too long played the part of the heartless egoist, and must now do penance.
Jessie snatched her hand away with the greatest indignation.
"Mr. Sandow, you are going too far! So now, when my guardian repulses Frida, when you see the impossibility of gaining his consent, you dare to approach me! You even venture to deny your bride before me, and to give the whole thing out as a farce. That is really too much!"
"But Miss Clifford--for heaven's sake!" cried Gustave, now seriously disturbed.
She would not allow him to speak, but continued, as if beside herself--
"I knew long ago, when you laid such stress upon the wordprotégée, that you were leaving a way of escape open. If Frida and fortune could both be won, well and good; if only fortune, Frida must go. There would still remain the heiress, who in the first place was intended for you, and this heiress you would secure while the forsaken, deceived girl was still under our roof. I have already experienced bitter disappointment with respect to your character, but such disgraceful disregard of truth and good faith I had not expected, even from you!"
A flood of tears choked her voice. Gustave tried prayers, entreaties, explanations; all were in vain. She hurried into the adjoining room, and when he tried to follow her she drew the bolt inside. Directly after he heard her leave that room also by another door, so that his words could no longer reach her. Left thus in the lurch, Gustave began to give vent to his anger.
"This is really too bad! This is what I have gained by sacrificing myself to the interests of others! My brother bursts upon me raging and storming because I give a caress to my own niece, and now I am treated like a criminal because I am too indifferent to her. Really, I ought to have taken Jessie into our confidence. This comes of too great a supply of high spirits. The thing amused me, and she--now she cries like one in the depths of despair. Now perhaps I may wait till tomorrow without her reappearing, and the misunderstanding should be brought to an end at once."
Despairingly he stamped with his foot, when suddenly a voice behind him said--
"I beg pardon--but I was directed here."
Gustave started and looked round. At the principal entrance of the drawing-room stood a stranger, a little man with a round face, who, bowing politely, said--
"Have I the honour of addressing the head of the house of Clifford?" He looked rather nervous, for Gustave's violent pantomime had not escaped him. "I have been to the office, and was there told that Mr. Sandow had already left. As my business is very urgent, I have been obliged to follow him out here."
"My brother is not visible," said Gustave irritably, for this interruption was in the highest degree unwelcome at such a moment. "He has important business in hand, and cannot be disturbed."
At the word "brother" the little gentleman bowed still more profoundly, and approaching with a confidential air, said--
"Mr. Gustave Sandow! the great German journalist! I am deeply rejoiced that fortune has permitted me to make the acquaintance of such a celebrity, a celebrity whose value is thoroughly appreciated by our firm."
"What do you want?" asked Gustave, with a look which clearly expressed a burning desire to show the admirer of his greatness to the door.
"I am an agent of Jenkins and Co.," explained the stranger, with an air of great self-satisfaction. "I arrived here today with a number of emigrants, and found myself obliged to call upon our honoured correspondent here. Since Mr. Sandow cannot be disturbed, perhaps I may make my statement to you."
Now Gustave's sorely tried patience was at an end. At a moment of such anxiety to receive an agent of Jenkins and Co. was beyond his power. He turned with great want of politeness to the bearer of the hated name--
"I can receive no communications intended for my brother. Bring your news to-morrow to the counting-house. I would"--here he suddenly dropped the English in which he had spoken to the American, and relieved his mind with a few strong German curses. "I wish the devil would take Jenkins and Co. with all their agents to their accursed place in the West, that the consequences of their philanthropical speculation might fall on their own heads."
With this he quitted the room by another door, leaving the astonished agent dumb with horror. For a few minutes he looked at the door by which Gustave had vanished with a bewildered mien. He had not understood the words of the German objurgations, but so much was clear to him that the "great German journalist" had not expressed very benevolent wishes with regard to himself and his Company. What should he do? The elder Mr. Sandow invisible, and the younger--
The little gentleman shook his head thoughtfully, and said to himself--
"Remarkable people, these German journalists! They are so nervous, so excited, one might almost say raving mad. When one pays them a compliment they answer by insult. Our gentlemen of the press are much more polite when people talk of their fame."
Jessie had locked herself in her own room, and there gave full course to her tears. Never in her life had she felt so profoundly unhappy, so despairing, as at this hour. Now she felt how her whole heart clung to this man, whom cost what it might she would drive from her.
Long ago, while he still lived in Germany, she had treasured a secret interest in her guardian's brother. She did not know him, but his pen wove an invisible bond between them. With what glowing eagerness had she read his articles; with what enthusiasm had she followed the flights of his idealism. She felt a community of ideas between them on all points of thought and sentiment, and by degrees he became a sort of ideal to her. And now the idealist had come--to falsify his whole past by yielding himself to his brother's sordid speculations. Then he concealed the best feelings of his heart from a cowardly fear of losing that brother's wealth; he heaped intrigue on intrigue to secure the coveted riches, then denied his bride rather than risk the fortune, and again courted the heiress. The most miserable selfishness, the most paltry calculations, were the mainsprings of his actions. Jessie hated and despised him with all her soul, but that she was forced to do so, that it was precisely this man whom she must despise, tore her very heart.
She had thrown herself on her couch, and buried her face in the cushions, smothering there her sobs, when suddenly she heard her name called, and springing up, she was startled to see Gustave Sandow standing in the middle of the room. She passionately cried--
"Mr. Sandow, how do you come here? I thought"--
"Yes, you bolted the drawing-room door," interrupted Gustave, "and you ordered your maid to admit no one, but in spite of bolts and lady's maid I am here. I must speak to you; it is necessary for your sake as well as mine."
"But I will not listen!" cried Jessie, with a vain attempt at self-control.
"But I will be heard!" replied Gustave. "At first I thought of sending Frida as a mediator, but soon gave up the idea. It would have taken too long. She is still with her father."
"With whom?"
"With her father--my brother!" Jessie stood as if petrified. The revelation was so sudden that she could not at first realize it, till Gustave said--
"May I now justify myself?"
Then through her soul flashed hope and happiness. She allowed him to take her hand and to lead her to the sofa, and even to place himself beside her.
"I have a confession to make to you, Miss Clifford," he began, "and to make all clear to you I must go far back into my brother's past life. By-and-bye, I may do it at greater length, but now I will only tell you enough to justify myself."
He detained her hand in his, and Jessie left it unresistingly there. She began to believe in the possibility of justification.
"My brother's domestic life was one of bitter experience. An apparently happy wedded life ended in a terrible discovery. He found himself betrayed by his wife and his dearest friend, and the circumstances of the discovery were such that with his domestic happiness fell also his outward prosperity. He neither would nor could remain longer at home, and went to America, where your parents received him. But in Germany he had left his daughter, his only child, who at that time was almost an infant. In his hatred, his bitterness against all, he would not acknowledge the child; it remained with the mother, who after the necessary divorce had married that man."
He paused a moment. Jessie listened in breathless anticipation; over her pale, tear-stained face crept a slight flush, as Gustave continued--
"I was then at the university, and had no means of supporting Frida, and all my representations in her behalf were fruitless. But I have never forsaken my little niece. The poor child had a comfortless youth in that family where her very presence was a rock of offence. Endured against his will by her step-father, treated by her own mother with indifference, nay, almost with aversion, she stood a stranger among her step-brothers and sisters, and with every year more keenly felt her loneliness. As soon as my means permitted, I assumed the rights of an uncle, which were certainly readily granted me, and extricated my niece from these surroundings. I placed her at school, where she remained till her mother's death. That death broke the bond which caused constant bitterness to my brother, and now I determined to come to America and fight for her rights, cost what it might."
"And that was your reason for coming to America?" said Jessie, timidly.
"That alone! I had already made an attempt by letter, but was most harshly repulsed by Frank. He threatened to break off all correspondence with me if I ever touched on the subject again. So then I placed all my hopes on the effect of Frida's own presence, but it at first seemed impossible to carry out this plan. I could not allow a young girl like that to cross the sea alone, and if she had appeared in my company my brother would have instantly had his suspicions roused. Then the death of your father, Miss Clifford, obliged him to think of a new partner, and his thoughts turned to me. Under ordinary circumstances the invitation to cast overboard my fatherland, my calling, and my independence, yes, the very heart and soul of my former life, for the sake of material interests, would have met with the most decided refusal; now it seemed like a sign from heaven itself. I apparently yielded, and started with Frida. She remained in New York while I viewed the field of action, and then introduced her under an assumed name into her father's house. You know what followed. The discovery has cost a last but severe struggle. There was a scene, which threatened to destroy all, but at last the father's heart awoke in my brother's bosom, and now he is reconciled with his child!"
Jessie sat with eyes cast down and glowing cheeks while she listened to this recital, which took one thorn after another from her breast. It seemed to her as if she herself were released from a gloomy oppression, now that the veil which so long had covered the "egoist" had fallen.
"Yes, Miss Clifford, now it is all up with the inheritance," said Gustave mischievously. "It was indeed offered to me, and I have had a hard fight for it, but only in the interest of the rightful heiress. Unfortunately, I must also resign the honour of becoming a partner in the house of Clifford. The editor and staff of theK--sche Zeitunghave bound me by a solemn oath as soon as my leave of absence is at an end; and in the long run indeed 'keeping accounts' does not appeal very strongly to me. I shall take up my old colours again, which, by-the-bye, I have not so shamefully deserted as you supposed. Do you still find my presence at the office desk so contemptible an action?"
Jessie looked at him, ashamed, confused, yet with a feeling of intense happiness--
"I have wronged you, Mr. Sandow; it was certainly your own fault, but--I beg your pardon?"
She could not offer him her hand, for he had never released it, but he pressed a kiss upon it which this time was quite patiently endured.
"I have for weeks past rejoiced at the thought of this explanation," said he, laughing. "Do you think I would have endured my brother's arbitrary manner and your contempt even for an hour, had I not been certain of your petition at the end?"
"And Frida is really only your adopted child?" asked Jessie, with a throbbing heart, which could not be controlled. "You do not love her?"
"Frida is my dear niece, and I am her venerated uncle, with that our mutual relation is exhausted. Now that she has found her father, I am become superfluous as an object of respect. But now that we are on the subject of love, Jessie, I have one question to put to you."
The question seemed to be guessed, for Jessie's face was bathed in blushes. She dared not look up, but that was also unnecessary, for Gustave was already at her feet, so she was compelled to look down at him, as he, with warmest devotion, whispered--
"My dearest, my beloved Jessie, it is now my turn to beg your pardon. I have intrigued, I have lied even to you, that cannot be denied, but I have also suffered for it, for you have compelled me to hear some bitter strictures. But one thing has remained real and true in me since our first meeting--the feeling which awoke in me when I first saw those blue eyes! So you must be gracious to me!"
Jessie seemed certainly inclined to grace, that the blue eyes said before the lips could express it. He sprang up full of passionate joy, and the pardon was confirmed in every point, indeed, no necessary formalities were omitted.
Half an hour later the two entered Frida's room, where Sandow still sat with his daughter. Gustave had drawn Jessie's hand within his arm, and now solemnly led her to his brother.
"Frank," said he, "in your inconsiderate plan was one sensible idea--indeed a very sensible one--yes, my little Frida, do not make such astonished eyes at your uncle and your future aunt--these are things which you do not understand; with our mutual penetration we have discovered that one sensible idea, and now introduce ourselves to you as an engaged couple."
It was the next morning. After breakfast the two brothers had withdrawn to the study of the elder one, and were alone there. Sandow sat at the writing-table; on his countenance lay an expression which for long years had never dwelt there, a shimmer of the happiness of former days, but his brow was still clouded as he spoke to his brother, who leant against the window opposite to him.
"Then you will really forsake me and carry Jessie off to Germany? I hoped that when Clifford's daughter should belong to you, you would also become his successor in business, and thus fulfil his dearest wish. You need not on that account give up your pen altogether, the real weight of business will rest as before on my shoulders. Our press is mightier and more influential than yours, here you would find a freer and wider field than in our native land. Consider it!"
"It requires no consideration," said Gustave with decision. "I can only give my whole interest and energy to one occupation. Merchant andlitterateur; that won't do! Were the intellectual horizon here ten times as wide, every chord of my heart is bound to my home, I can only there work and create. And then we should never do as partners. For a few weeks I could wear the mask of a subordinate and be silent to all, for on Frida's account I wished to prevent a breach. But now Frank! I must tell you plainly that your business practice, your whole system, would render it impossible for us ever to get on together. It led you to a close union with Jenkins--in that lies your condemnation."
Sandow did not spring up, as at such a declaration he would certainly have done before, but his brow took a deeper shade.
"You look at things from one point of view and I from another. Your calling gives you perfect liberty in act and thought, I stand amidst all kinds of antagonistic interest, and cannot always choose my means. I wish"--he paused a moment, and then overcoming himself continued--"I wish I had not entered on this partnership with Jenkins. But it has happened, and I cannot extricate myself."
"Can you really not? Is there no way out of it?"
"I have told you that hundreds of thousands are invested in this affair, and run the risk of losing all if it does not succeed, or if I withdraw from it."
"But you must withdraw whatever the loss may be!"
Sandow looked at him as if he did not believe his ears.
"At the risk of such a loss? Are you serious? Have you any idea of what such a sum means? I have done what I could, I have made the attempt to separate from Jenkins, to my injury--for he has become more obstinate in consequence. In his last letter he asked with ill-concealed suspicion, if I really required my money, since I appeared so anxious to withdraw my capital. He seems to suspect losses on my side, perhaps doubts my credit, and for a merchant that is the most dangerous thing that can happen. I must enter upon the thing with redoubled energy if I would repair such an imprudence."
"Yesterday I gave you your child," said Gustave earnestly, "and I believe that in her you have won more than you will lose here. For Frida's sake I hoped you would withdraw from a speculation which hinders you from meeting your daughter's eyes."
Sandow turned quickly away, but his voice had the old harsh sound as he replied--
"Just for Frida's sake! Shall I impoverish my newly-found child? Shall I rob her of the half of her fortune?"
"She will have enough in the other half, and I do not believe that the whole will bring a blessing, when it is retained at such a price."
"Silence! You understand nothing about it. A retreat at any risk, such as you suggest is an impossibility, so not another word on the subject! Naturally, I release you from your promise, for, knowing you as I do now, I am sure that you have never written the articles."
"The first is long since ready," replied Gustave coldly. "It will certainly be also the last, one such will suffice. I intended showing you the MSS. to-day. Here it is."
He drew some pages of writing from his pocket, and offered them to his brother, who took them hesitatingly, and looked questioning and doubtfully at him.
"Read," said Gustave simply.
Sandow began to read, at first slowly, but with, ever-increasing haste. He turned over the leaves with a trembling hand, and glanced over them. His face grew darker, and breaking off in the midst he threw the manuscript violently on the table.
"Are you out of your mind! You have written, you will publish that! It is terrible what you there expose to the world!"
Gustave drew himself up to his full height, and stepped up close to his brother.
"Terrible! indeed it is! And the most terrible part is, that all these things are true. I have been on the spot, and can pledge my honour for every word that I have written there. Draw back, Frank, while there is yet time. This article, appearing in theK--sche Zeitung, repeated throughout the entire German press, cannot fail in its working. The Consulate, the Ministry will be obliged to notice it. They will take care that no one falls unwarned into the hands of Jenkin's and Co."
"You are very proud of the wonderful effect of your pen!" cried Sandow beside himself. "You seem to have forgotten that I am an equal shareholder with Jenkins, and that when you describe the place in such revolting colours, every word is directed against the wealth and honour of your brother. You will not only ruin me by this, but represent me as a scoundrel in the eyes of all the world."
"No. I shall not do that, for you will separate yourself altogether from this rascally company, and I shall add, that my brother, who had unwittingly become involved in this speculation, retreated from it at a great pecuniary sacrifice, as soon as his eyes were opened to the enormity of the proceeding. Declare this openly to the man, if you fear that merely withdrawing will be injurious to your credit. The truth, here too, is the best."
"And you think that Jenkins would believe me, the merchant, the head of the house of Clifford, guilty of such an insane trick. He would simply believe I had lost my senses."
"It is possible, for since this honourable personage has no conscience himself, he would not understand its existence in anyone else. Nevertheless, you must try every means."
Sandow walked wildly up and down the room for a few minutes, at last he stopped and said with gasping breath--
"You do not know what it is to seize a wasp's nest. In Europe you would at least be safe from their stings, while I must remain here open to all. Jenkins would never forgive me if my name were attached to any such revelations. He is influential enough to set against me all who are concerned in it, and they are counted by hundreds. You do not know the iron ring of interest which surrounds and binds us together. One hangs on the other, one supports the other. Woe to him who tears himself away and offers battle to his former companions. They all swear to destroy him. His credit is undermined, his plans crossed, he himself calumniated and harassed till he is ruined. Just now I could not support such attacks. Jessie's money will be lost to the firm, this speculation has weakened my own means to the last degree; should it fail, for me it will be the beginning of ruin. I speak as unreservedly to you as you have to me, and now go and publish your discovery to all the world!"
He paused, overwhelmed with excitement; Gustave looked darkly before him, his brow, too, bore the marks of deep and anxious care.
"I did not think that you were so surrounded and entangled on every side. That comes from this execrable system of business! Well then"--he laid his hand upon the paper--"destroy this, I will not write it again. I am silent when you assure me that my words will be your ruin. But the consequences are on your head! You must answer for every human life which is lost in that den of fever."
"Gustave, you are killing me!" groaned Sandow sinking into a chair.
The door was gently opened and the servant announced that the carriage which usually conveyed the two gentlemen to town was at the door. Gustave signed to the man to withdraw, and then bending over his brother said--
"You cannot now come to a decision. You must be calm. Let me go alone to the office to-day and represent you there. You are terribly agitated and excited, too much came on you yesterday."
Sandow made a mute sign of assent, he might well feel that he was not in a condition to show his ordinary calm business demeanour to his subordinates. But when his brother was already at the door, he suddenly started up,
"One thing--not a word to Frida! Don't bring her into the field against me, or you drive me to extremities."
"Be tranquil, I should not have ventured that," said Gustave with great emphasis. "It would estrange the scarcely won heart of your child--perhaps for ever. Good-bye Frank."
About an hour later Frida entered her father's room, where he was still pacing restlessly up and down. She started when she saw him, for his countenance betrayed something of the struggle of the past hours. He tried indeed to conceal his agitation, and avoided giving a direct reply to the anxious inquiries of his daughter, but still she saw that he was devoured by feverish anxiety. The girl was still too much a stranger to venture on forcing his confidence by prayers and entreaties, but she looked with secret dread at the gloomy shadow which brooded over the brow, where nothing but joy and pardon should have been seen.
Suddenly Gustave entered with Jessie; he appeared to have just returned from town, for he still held his hat and gloves; he had, however, been scarcely an hour absent.
"I have brought Jessie with me," he said in his usual cheerful manner, "and since Frida is also here, we can hold another family council in your room. You are surprised to see me again so soon, Frank. I wished to relieve you of all business affairs to-day, but have been compelled to come to you for a decision. At the office I found some emigrants who would not be satisfied without seeing you, and as you were not coming to town today, I have brought them out here."
"Yes, Gustave brought them out in his own carriage," said Jessie who had been rather astonished at seeing her future husband drive up to the door, with some homely peasants in the elegant equipage belonging to their house.
"They are Germans, fellow-countrymen, indeed they are from our own little native place," added Gustave quickly. "They might not have been able to find their way here alone, so I considered it best to bring them."
"That was quite unnecessary," said Sandow uneasily, and displeased at what he foresaw would be a last and decisive attack. "The thing could have waited till to-morrow. What have I personally to do with the wanderers? They can receive every information at the office. You have really brought them all here?"
"Yes all, excepting the agent of Jenkins and Co. He was here yesterday with the object of speaking to you; I put him off till this morning, and arrived just in time to rescue these people from him; for he seemed resolved not to let them go till he had given them the fullest particulars. You will of course receive them; I promised them positively an interview with you."
And without leaving his brother time to refuse, he opened the door of the adjoining room, and invited the men who were waiting there to enter. The two girls were about to retire when they found a business interview was to take place, but Gustave held Jessie's arm fast, and said softly but impressively to her and his niece--
"Stay, both of you. I want you, but particularly Frida!"
Meanwhile the strangers had entered. There were three men, robust country folk, with sunburnt faces and toil-hardened hands. The eldest, a man of middle age, appeared highly respectable in manner and dress. The two others were younger and looked more necessitous. They stood awkwardly near the door, while their leader made a few steps forward.
"There is my brother," said Gustave, directing their attention to him. "Speak quite freely and fearlessly to him. Under the present circumstances, he only can give you the best advice."
"God be with you, Mr. Sandow!" began the leader, with the touching German salutation, usual in his province, and with a strong, harsh provincial accent. "We are thankful to find Germans here, with whom we can speak an honest word. At your office where we at first sought you, we were ordered here and there, and were quite bewildered, till fortunately your brother appeared. He immediately took our part, and has been very rough with the agent who would not let us see you. But he was right then, for long ago we lost all confidence in the whole band."
Sandow rose; he felt the storm approach, and cast a threatening, reproachful glance at the brother who had thus entangled him. But the merchant well knew that he must not allow the strangers to have any idea of his position, but must preserve his usual business air. He asked--
"What do you want with me, and what am I to advise you upon?"
The peasant looked at his two companions as if he expected them to speak, but as they remained silent and made energetic signs for him to continue, he alone replied--
"We have fallen into a horrible trap, and know no way out of it. Before leaving Germany we were recommended to Jenkins and Company, and on arriving in New York were received by their agent. They promised us a mine of wealth, and at their office one seemed to believe that in the far west lay an earthly paradise. But on the way here we accidentally met a few Germans, who had been several years in America, and they told another tale. They bade us beware of this Jenkins and his western paradise. He was a regular cutthroat, and had already brought many to misery. We should all be ruined in his forests, and what all his other fine things might be. Then we felt stunned! The agent, who was travelling in another compartment, was furious when we plainly told him what we had heard, but as I said before, we had lost all confidence in him, and wished to consider the thing again before we travelled so many more hundred miles westward."
Gustave, who stood beside Jessie, listened with apparent calm. She looked rather frightened; she did not know all the circumstances, but could easily feel that this meant more than an ordinary business affair.
Frida, on the other hand, listened with breathless excitement to the words which bore such singular resemblance to those which, weeks ago, she had spoken to her father. But what could he have to do with this emigration scheme?
"We were directed to your bank, Mr. Sandow," continued the man, "for the signing the contract and payment for the land. We heard in the neighbourhood that you were a German, and indeed out of our own province. Then I called together the others and said, 'Children, now there is no more difficulty; we will go to our countryman and lay the thing before him. He is a German, so will, no doubt, have a conscience, and will not send his fellow-countrymen to their destruction!'"
If Sandow had not before realised to the full extent, what a sin his speculation was, he learnt it in this hour, and the simple, true-hearted words of the peasant burnt into his soul, as the bitterest reproaches could not have done.
It was torture that he endured, but the worst was to come. Frida crept to his side. He did not look at her at that moment, he could not, but he felt the anxious, imploring look, and the trembling of the hand which clasped his own.
"Now it is your turn to speak," said the man, turning half angrily to his companions, who had entirely left the management of the affair to him. "You, too, have wives and children, and have spent your last penny on the journey. Yes, Mr. Sandow, there are poor devils among us who have nothing but their strong arms, and can count on nothing but their labour. Some of us are certainly better off, and so we thought one could help the other in the new colony. There are about eighty of us, besides a dozen children, and for the poor little ones it would indeed be bad if things over there are as we have been told. So give us advice,Herr Landsmann! If you say to us, 'Go,' then in God's name we shall start early to-morrow, and hope for the best. It will be God Himself who has brought us to you, and we shall thank Him from the bottom of our hearts."
Sandow leant heavily on the table which stood before him. Only by exerting the utmost force of will was he able to appear collected. Only Gustave knew what was raging in his heart, and he now decided to break the long and painful pause which had followed the last words.
"Have no fear!" he cried. "You see my brother has himself a child, an only daughter, and thus he knows what the life and health of your little ones is to you. His advice can be implicitly followed. Now, Frank, what do you advise our countrymen to do?"
Sandow looked at the three men, whose eyes rested anxiously, yet confidingly, on his face, then at his daughter, and suddenly standing erect, he cried--
"Do not go there!"
The men started back, and looked at each other, and then at the merchant, who had given them this strange advice.
"But you are connected with this company?" cried the one, and the others confirmed his words. "Yes, indeed, you are one of them!"
"In this affair I have been deceived myself," explained Sandow. "It is only lately that I have learnt exactly the nature of the land, of which I am certainly one of the owners, and I know that it is not suited for colonization. I will, therefore, make no contract with you, as I intend to withdraw from my obligations and give up the whole undertaking."
The Germans had no suspicion what a sacrifice their countryman had made for them, or at what price their rescue had been bought. They looked quite helpless and despairing, and their leader said with startled manner--
"This is an abominable business? We Lave made and paid for this long journey, and here we are in America. We cannot return, we must not proceed; we are betrayed and sold in a strange country. Mr. Sandow, you must advise us again, you mean well by us that we can see, or you would not deal such a blow at your own interest. Tell us what to do?"
A heavy, troubled breath came from the breast of the merchant. Nothing was spared him to the last detail, but he had gone too far to retreat.
"Go to the German Consul in this town," he replied, "and lay your case before him. As far as I know there is a German company in New York, which has also undertaken the colonization of the West, and which is under the special protection of our Consulate. Their possessions are not extremely distant from the original object of your journey, the route is almost the same. More particulars you will learn of the Consul himself; you may place implicit confidence in him, and he will assist you by every means in his power."
The faces of the poor men cleared wonderfully at this intelligence.
"Thank God! there is some escape for us!" said the leader. "We will start immediately so as to lose no time, and we are much indebted to you, sir, and to the young gentleman here. It is brave of you to retire from this swindling affair, as though you would not say so, we can see that it is a great loss to you. May God reward you for what you have done for us, and for our wives and children!"
He offered his hand to the merchant, who took it mechanically, and the words of farewell with which he released the people were just as spiritless.
But Gustave shook them all heartily by the hand, and rang the bell violently to summon a servant, whom he ordered to accompany them to the German Consulate and only to leave them at the door.
When they were gone, Sandow threw himself into a chair; and the agitation which had been so sternly repressed now claimed its rights; he appeared crushed beneath it.
"Father, for God's sake what is the matter?" cried Frida, throwing her arms round him, but now Gustave re-entered, his face actually beaming with triumph.
"Let him be, Frida, it will pass. You have indeed right to be proud of your father! Frank, from the moment when our countrymen stood before you, I was certain that you would in the end warn them against your own speculation, but that you would have recommended them to the other company, against which Jenkins quite lately published a most violent article in theNew York Revolver Press, that I did not hope, and for that I must shake you by the hand?"
But Sandow waved him and his proffered hand away, and pressed his daughter to his breast. A bitter expression rested on his lips as he said--
"You don't know what Gustave has done to you, my child, nor what this hour may yet cost to your father. From to-day Jenkins will be my most unyielding enemy, and will never rest from attacking me. I have placed myself only too entirely in his hands."
"Throw the whole thing over and come with us to Germany," cried Gustave. "Why should you allow yourself to be tormented and harassed by these honourable New Yorkers, when you could live happy and comfortably in your native land. When Jessie is married there will be an end of the name of Clifford, why not also wind up the firm. Of course you will lose by withdrawing from the thing, but for German ideas you are still rich enough, and there is plenty of room for activity at home."
"What are you proposing to me!" exclaimed Sandow, irritably.
"Just what you proposed to me when you called me here. I think the best way is to turn the thing completely round. Look how Frida's face lights up at the thought of home! Naturally she will never again leave her father, wherever he may be, but it may be your lot to see her die of home-sickness some day."
Gustave had cleverly set the most efficacious spring in motion. Sandow gave a startled look at his daughter, whose eyes certainly beamed when her home was mentioned, and who now resignedly drooped her head.
"Come, Jessie," said Gustave, taking the arm of his betrothed, "we will leave them alone. I must explain all this to you, for I see that you only half comprehend it, and besides I feel an urgent necessity to be again admired by you. Yesterday you did me an extraordinary amount of good."
He led her away, and father and daughter remained alone. Frida required no explanation, he had long ago divined the circumstances, and clinging close to her father, she said with the deepest affection--
"I knew very well when we were standing that time by the sea that you could never send any one into misery!"
Sandow looked long and deeply into the dark eyes, which now beamed with love and admiration. It was the first time he did so, without reading a reproach in them, and he felt as if redeemed to a new life.
"No, my child!" said he softly, "I could not do it, and now whatever may come, we will bear it together."
Meanwhile Gustave and Jessie strolled arm-in-arm through the garden, but at first their talk was very serious. He told her all, screening his brother as much as possible, whom he represented as the victim of a deception which had only just become clear to him. When he had finished, Jessie said eagerly--
"Gustave, even if my money had been mixed up with this, it is unnecessary to say that we will leave it to the uncontrolled management of your brother as long as he wants it."
"Your money has never been concerned in it," Gustave informed her. "Whatever Frank may be as a speculator, as a guardian, he is conscientiousness itself. He has respected your father's will to the fullest extent. You are and remain still an heiress, Jessie, but in spite of that uncomfortable peculiarity, I am resolved to marry you, and in four weeks, too."
"That is impossible," protested Jessie. "There are so many things to order and prepare. You must see yourself that the time is too short."
"I see nothing of the kind," declared Gustave. "The business part my brother will arrange, everything can be settled within the time named. In your America everything is done at express speed, speculation, fortune-making, even living and dying. I do not find this custom unpleasant since it can be extended even to marrying, and as your future tyrant I require you to become my wife in four weeks."
Jessie did not appear to dread this tyranny too much, but after some discussion she, smiling and blushing, consented, when her lover said--
"At least I can stand by my brother when the first storm breaks, and it will not be long before it does. At the Consulate, of course, all the particulars will be learnt, and by the evening they will have spread through the whole town. That amiable agent, the admirer of my literary fame, will first tear his hair, and then send telegram upon telegram to New York. I wish I could see how Jenkins and Co. breathe fire and flame, and wish me in the lowest depths of hell. With God's help I hope to renew that pleasure whenever my articles appear. They shall learn to know the pen they wished to buy."
"But do you think really that my guardian can release himself from these obligations?" asked Jessie.
"He must, at any price! After the events of to-day there is no choice left him, and he is business man enough to save all that is possible. Jenkins will certainly make his life a misery to him, so much the better! Then he will be obliged to turn his eyes towards Germany, and we shall win him back. He will never return to his old fever for speculation, and here there is so much temptation to it. The ice is now broken, and Frida has so much of the charm of novelty about her that we may confidently leave the rest to her. I pledge my word on it, in a few years she will bring her father home to us!"
They had unconsciously reached the shore, and now stood by the bench where Frida had sat on that memorable evening. Before them lay the sea, bathed in sunshine.
Gustave pointed across it, while he put his arm round his future wife.
"There lies my native land, Jessie! In a few weeks it will also be your home, as it was the home of your own mother, and as such you will learn to love it. What my brother declared this morning may be true--that here the intellectual field too, is wider and freer than with us, that one rises more rapidly here, and wields a mightier power, even with the pen. With us just now, our first duty is to hold high our flag in the midst of the hottest fight, and to defend it with the whole strength of our lives. But that I will do joyfully and with all my heart, and ask no other reward than that my Jessie, my beloved wife, shall be contented with her egoist."