, BJURSTEl^ THE LIBRARY iLKIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES oo OJ THE PLAY OF FATE BY HERMAN BJURSTEN TRANSLATED FROM THE SWEDISH BY W. H. MYERS, Translator of "Swedish Folk Lore," etc. CHICAGO DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO. 1892 COPYRIGHTED, 1892, BY DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & Co. DONOHUE & HENNEBERRY, PRINTERS AND BINDERS, CHICAGO, 80NTENTS. PAGE. Prologue .- 7 PART I. CHAPTER I. The Little Wood-Gatherer 23 II. * Mother and Son .38 III. Pastor Bergholm 58 IV. The Pupil < 73 V. The Porcelain Cups 84 VI. Jacob Kron 100 " VII. Jacob Kron, continued 118 " VIII. Odensvik ...134 IX. The Amber Heart 144 PART II. " I. Christmas Evening 174 II. The Blind Woman and her Son. . 220 III. A Conspiracy 238 IV. A Building Project 246 V. The Great Hunting Party 262 VI. An Episode- 279 " VII. The Death Bed 295 PART III. I. A Poor Student 315 II. The Friends 329 III. The Bequest. .. 340 IV. The Alternative 349 V. God's Finger 361 VI. George 371 " VII. The Two Teachers 382 " VIII. The Debutante 397 IX. A Family 406 X. The Play 421 XI. Father and Son 437 " XII. Old Acquaintances 452 " XIII. AtMarielund ..469 2134339 TO X TENTS. PAKT IV. CHAPTER I. The Meeting , ,..483 " II. Reminiscences 496 III. The Affinities 500 " IV. Isabella 514 V. The Visit 530 " VI. The Conservatory 548 " VII. The Wooing 563 " VIII. Father, Mother and Brother 571 " IX. The Meeting in the Forest 581 X. The Conference 592 XI. The Arbor 606 " XII. The Explanation 612 PART V. I. The Two Brothers. 621 II. The Fatalists 634 III. The Preparations. 642 IV. The Birthday 650 V. Death's Bride 657 VI. The Baronial Tomb 664 " VII. Helena Again 678 " VIII. Rouge-Et-Xoir 689 IX. The Alpine Maiden 703 X. The Last Play of Fate 711 XI. The Patricide's Death Struggle 724 " XII. Conclusion.. ..730 PART I PROLOGUE From Eastern Switzerland, jutting into Tyrol, is an arm of the Alps, which, with its many branches, fills that marvelous mountain land. Just upon the borders between these two countries, at opposite sides of the River Inn, that here speeds its way north and east- ward toward the Danube with more than ordinary ve- locity, is formed, by this Alpine chain, the so-called Valley of Engadin, without doubt one of the most beautiful tracts in this quarter of the globe. On its northern side, the mountains fall in bold terraces to the river banks. Should the traveler find himself on the highest of the surrounding peaks, and thence de- scend gradually to the valley below, he must pass through all the different climates of Europe. From the bleak and hazy regions of perpetual snow, where only scanty herbage, mosses, and lichens can exist under the white shroud of perpetual winter, one descends terrace after terrace, to a tract whose beg- garly vegetation is like that of Northern Scandinavia. Here a dwarf birch struggling to' protect its drooping branches against the piercing cold, and now and then a stray child of the valley, an Alpine rose, with pale cheek and a snow-drop sparkling in its eye, peeps forth. Nature's life seems chilled. Only during a few weeks in midsummer does she wake from her death-like slumber, when the petulant mountain streams break loose from their winter prison, and rush in foaming 7 8 THE PLAY OF FATE cascades down the rocky and precipitous ways to the pretty valley below. In this frozen realm above the clouds, man, how- ever brave, has not yet ventured to fix his frail hab- itation. Only the mountain goat and his intrepid pursuer have sometimes dared to approach it, and at its confines, the paths of both hunter and hunted end. The feet slip and sink in the deep, yielding snow; respiration grows difficult in that rarefied air, and the limbs are stiffened by the icy winds that blow from the mountain king's glittering, but frosty palace. Making his way down over a few more precipices, the traveler finds himself in a temperate zone corre- sponding with the climate of Middle and Southern Sweden. Even here the winters are severe; but the life-giving rays of the gentle summer sun nurse into abundance thick foliaged oaks, birches, and pines. Here the free child of the valley drives his flocks to crop the luxuriant grass, and the horn of the herdsman mingles its silver notes with the roar of the cataract. Irresistibly, the traveler is fascinated with the spec- tacle of the unconventional and happy people grouped outside their "sinnihiitten" on a holiday evening. Who has net heard the airs from the Tyrolean mount- ains, the abiding place of song and homely customs? Who has not been enraptured by the thrilling ring of the Swiss melodies? Like the folk songs of Northern Sweden, they are a faithful reflection of the character of the peasantry upon whose lips they live. To its peculiarly fresh and cheery tone there is sometimes added a tinge of deep melancholy, which is not hard to account for among a people whose life is an inces- sant struggle with poverty. Downward, downward winds the traveler's narrow and ofttimes treacherous PROLOGUE 9 path, until he stands upon the banks of the Inn, sur- rounded by a luxuriant southern, almost tropical veg- etation. Golden fruits weigh stout branches down almost to breaking, and the vine creeps in and out of the mountain crevices, bewitching the eye with its luxuriant glowing grapes. Millions of silk-worms are busy in the rich mulberry trees, spinning their silky threads, invisible, yet so strong that they may one day imprison the swelling bosom of maidenhood, or, in rich draperies, steal around some slumbering beauty's couch. On every hand are glowing apricots, rosy- cheeked peaches, and bright-hued oranges, hung in leafy bowers whose foliage is so dense that the rays of the sun can scarcely penetrate there. Babbling mount- ain streams dance over the rocks, precipitated in sil- ver cascades frojn cliff to cliff, finally ceasing their gambols, and hiding themselves in the mother river's bosom. About the middle of the valley, the Inn makes a sharp turn toward the north, and there washes the base of a high rock which raises its wood-crowned head perpendicularly above the water, and from whose northern side a mountain stream gushes forth and tum- bles in a glittering waterfall to the river below. From the summit of this rock, which by one of its sides is easily reached, a most beautiful view of the surrounding landscape is obtainable. Deep below the feet one sees a blooming paradise, and away toward the distant southern horizon, blue mountains lift their confused masses, crowned with forest garlands. To- ward the east and west, nature, in all her grandeur of gigantic rock formations, cliff surmounting cliff, dizzy precipices and foaming streams, relieved now and then by a narrow, rocky valley, or a hill covered with rich verdure, meets the eye. 10 THE PLAY OF FATE Notwithstanding its peculiar grandeur, and the mag- nificent picture spread before the observer from its summit, this rock possesses an unpleasant notoriety among the dwellers of the valley. No one willingly builds his cot in the neighborhood, nor is it ap- proached after nightfall without fear and trembling. Ghosts hold revel here, it is said, and by the light of the moon on a summer night, they may be seen emerging from the abounding caves to join in dance on its flattened crest. When Maurice, Duke of Saxony, during his war with Charles the Fifth 1552 advanced upon Innspruck and Trident, some of his soldiers pushed their way in- to the Valley of Engadin in search of plunder. The populace fled from the fury of the invaders, and among them a young Tyrolean with his betrothed. In his flight, he reached the plateau crowning this rock, where some Saxon jagers followed him, bent upon pos- sessing themselves of the young lover's beautiful prize. Here, seeing that he could not save her against the superior force of his pursuers, he plunged a dagger into her breast, and hurled himself over the precipice into the foaming waters below, leaving only a bloody corpse in the hands of the would be ravishers. The memory of that affecting deed still lives in the breasts of the people, and has given the rock the dismal name that rings on the ear and chills the blood, "Death's Cliff." It was evening, June 16, 1817. Upon the point of Death's Cliff, leaning against an oak, sat a young man gazing absently out over the changing landscape that lay before him. Far in the west, beyond the snow-capped, Alpine PROLOGUE II peaks, the setting sun was still aglow, and spread a stream of bright red over their icy shields, over the fresh verdure of spring in the valley, over the azure waters of the river. Wafted upon the gentle evening breezes, the tones of a neighboring convent bell reached the young man upon the rock, and the herdsman driving his flock homeward woke with his yodel the echoes of the mountain defiles. "Tyrolean sind wir, farallira; Im freien land! Im freien land! Es lebe konig und vaterland, Farallira, trarallira." But the sweet notes floated unheard past the young man's ears, and the clang of the bells awoke in his soul no voice of reverence. Resting one hand upon an exquisitely wrought Tyr- olean gun, while with the other he caressed a hunting dog of rare breed and beauty, his thoughts seemed to be far away from any of the surrounding objects. A hunting-jacket of green velvet, buttoned close up to the throat, covered his tall, supple figure, and around the graceful waist crept a yellow belt of elk-skin, sup- porting two shining pistols and a silver-handled dag- ger. On his head he wore a Spanish cap, and around his neck a carelessly-knotted silk scarf. . His features were regular and handsome, but an ex- pression of scorn played around his mouth, often con- torting it, and imparting a repelling expression to his otherwise pleasing face. Out of the depths of his dark eyes blazed a fire of passion, and a physiognomist would pronounce his thick lips an indication of a pre- ponderating sensuality, an insatiable yearning after life's pleasures. 12 THE PLAY OF FATE Meantime, the shadows grew longer and longer. The blue sky assumed a deeper hue, and the stars were beginning to sparkle upon its dim expanse. From behind the eastern mountains the new moon lifted her silver horn. The quiet was unbroken except for the roar of the waterfall in its tumble over precipices on its way to join the river far below. The young man lifted a hunt- ing-horn to his lips and blew. Instantly the whole region seemed to wake from its reverie; a thousand echoes chased each other from cliff to cliff, from crag to crag, and the roe, frightened from his retreat) bounded forth along the dizzy heights. The hunter took the horn from his mouth and list- ened to the reverberations that drowned the roar of the torrent, a strange smile, at the same time, play- ing across his lips. "How mighty is man!" he exclaimed, resuming his former position, reclining against the trunk ofthe oak. "Nature sleeps; the fowls rest upon the swinging branches; the animals slumber in their lairs: I place a piece of brass to my lips and blow. Nature must answer, from valley to mountain-top, from forest to chasm's depths. The birds, twittering, hop from branch to branch, and the animals, trembling, leave their haunts. Surely man is nature's king! But is he yet his own master? Does he possess the might, un- restricted, to determine the course of his life and effectually control his fate? Is it not a sleepless power who, with iron scepter, governs and commands him, now to the rack, now to a bed of roses, to long, to hope, to doubt? Where is he who has dared to say: 'I have done battle with my fate and have conquered?' Wonderful creature, man! Who has solved the prob- PROLOGUE 13 lem of your being? Who, indeed, can explain it? Who has determined the dim destiny that sways your whole existence, that brood over your beginning, your un- folding, to the end? Poor uncertain power that exalts itself over the outer, the dead, the mute nature, but is humbled to the dust in the presence of an eternal, nat- ural law that holds all fettered in its chains! Misera- ble phantom of power, shadow of a king! Over the infirm you show your ascendency, with the strong you struggle and are vanquished! "What is freedom? An iron scepter, an official stamp boastfully impressed upon our political rights, a battered symbol that mankind hangs before him in order to deceive himself with a lie. "I have wandered through the Swiss cantons from east to west. It is freedom's birthplace and home, it is said. What did I find? A nation struggling with poverty in their rocky valleys, reaping upon the frozen turf a harvest often insufficient for their meager wants; divided by political differences, by religious disputes, and thereby an easy prey to every robber who may seek to take advantage of their weakness. With the individual, the same passions without the power to sat. isfy them, the same desire after happiness, cheered by no hope of attaining it, the same blindness, the same thralldom of the spirit prevailing in all other lands that I have visited. Ah, yes! Mankind are all alike, whether ruled by king or a popular assembly; whether they inhabit mountains or valleys, the sandy deserts of Africa, or the snowy expanse of the Arctic regions. Under the Esquimau's furs throbs the same heart as under the Frenchman's finer coat, and the same hood- wink hangs over the eyes of both. "Upon earth, freedom has no home. It is a Utopia. 14 THE PLAY OF FATE Myself, for example; have I not been made to dawdle through an existence of many years with manacles on my feet? I would be free, independent, unrestrained. I would enjoy myself, for I am a man, and by reason thereof can understand the art. "I would drink to intoxication of Calabria's grapes; I would bask in the light that glows from the dark eyes of Hesperia's maidens; I would travel to the ends of the earth, to see all, to enjoy all; to taste of every fruit that grows in life's pleasure garden. Youth, strength, desire, swell my veins, stretch my sinews and course like fire through my blood. I would search after bliss upon yon southern soil; but all my aspira- tions vanish like fleeting shadows among the snowy forests of my distant fatherland. "To be here, at the gates of that Italy of which I have dreamed from my childhood, compelled to turn back again to my cold, misty, native land, is indeed hard. And why must I? Because an obdurate father so wills it. Because, though rich in prospect by in- heritance, I have nothing except through him, and am denied the power te govern my own movements. O, potent gold! It is indeed you that lays heaviest hold upon the life of man!" The young man here paused and fell into a deep reverie. "Yes, so it is!" he finally broke forth. "So must it be. The shadow of freedom that we procure can only be bought with gold. Moreover, even that dis- appears. There are other means. By way of this precipice," continued he, after a short pause. "I must secure the means. But how? That is the question. '"'Shall I wait until the bright days of youth have van- ished? Until its fire has burned out, its strength has PROLOGUE 15 slain itself in the long struggle with suffering and un- satisfied desires? Shall I wait until the power to en- joy has faded from my breast until I am too feeble to longer seek or wish for happiness? Live! That is to enjoy! Life without enjoyment is pretense only. No, I will not wait! I must be free, or die. But my father is a man in his best years. He may live to old age, he may outlive me even. Death and the Devil!" At this instant, the young man felt a heavy hand fall upon his shoulder. With a start he turned around. Before him stood a man, perhaps forty-five years of age, of noble and commanding bearing, the fire of whose eyes was subdued by a calm earnestness which was enthroned upon a high, open forehead, where neither time nor care had yet plowed a furrow. The elder, as the younger man, was clad in a green hunting-jacket, and, like him also, was armed with pistols and rifle. The latter had sprung hastily to his feet and stood silent and embarrassed under the calm, searching gaze that was fixed upon him. "Ah, my dear Eberhard," said the elder, finally, "I fear you are in a bad humor to-day, or why these muttered curses I have just heard?" "I was displeased that my hunt has been so fruit- less," answered Eberhard, with manifest perplexity. "Has it gone better with you, father?" "Excellently! I have shot two roebucks since we separated. Accompany me to the inn and sup with me on a roebuck-steak." "Thank you, father. But tell me first, is it your unalterable determination to return to Sweden without visiting Italy, whither you know it has been my great- est desire to go?" 1 6 THE PLAY OF FATE "We must save this journey for another time, my son. Even now I have been too long absent from my home, and my steward writes me, moreover, that the affairs of the estate demand my immediate presence and personal attention. It ought to interest you, too, that the estate to which you will one day be heir is not neglected, and allowed to go to waste." "Ah, father, you already own so much that you can never spend your income, however you may manage. Life is so short, why renounce the actual pleasure for the mere gratification of accumulating more gold than one needs?" "That you do not understand, Eberhard. You have always had a great inclination to be a spendthrift, and I am in actual fear that my present considerable prop- erty, once in your hands, will be soon dissipated. But while I live, it is I who will guard it, you understand." "I have never meddled with your affairs, father," re- plied Eberhard with a dark frown; "but is it too much that the son of Count Stjernekrantz, of whose wealth all Sweden talks, should not be permitted to visit Italy, that land to which all young men, not half so wealthy, have made pilgrimages? I am twenty-four years old, father, and you have never yet allowed me the least freedom. Why hold me in this slavery that quenches my very being? If you must return home to look after your estates, give me, at least, liberty to enjoy myself. Grant me a moderate sum of money, and let me go alone to Italy." The young man uttered this in a loud, almost inso- lent tone. The count fixed his calm, earnest glance upon his son, who had not the power to withstand it, but dropped his eyes to the ground, PROLOGUE 17 "Pleasure, nothing but pleasure!" exclaimed the count. "You incline to nothing else, Eberhard. You would enjoy life, it is so short, you say. Fool! Do you believe that the Almighty, in His wisdom, meas_ ured out man's fleeting hours in order that Epicurus^ in his conceit, might cry: 'Grasp the minutes. Upon their wings happiness reposes?' Do you think that the pleasure which fuddles the brain and leaves only weakness and disgust, when it, like the foam in, the champagne glass, has disappeared, do you think that this can be even a shadow of the enjoyment that man- kind may and ought to seek? O, no, my son, that pleasure cannot come from without; cannot be founded upon material things. The pure mind does not require the land of Hesperia, neither Hellas' myrtle .valleys, to produce it. It does not dwell in the purple juice of the grape, nor in the maiden's lily bosom, and you may seek it in vain among life's marts. Everything else you may buy there, but not happiness." "There is no pleasure without freedom, father, "re- plied Eberhard sullenly. "You, for example, would you deem yourself fortunate if you, like a shadow, were made to follow in the footsteps of another, denied the right to determine your own actions? .Would you not grow weary on the way and die consumed by lo.nging if you were forbidden what you most desired, com- manded to do what you most abhorred?" "I should shake off such a yoke, for I know that I am ripe for the freedom of which you speak, and everyone who is ripe for freedom possesses it also; for his wishes, his desires, and his actions do not come into conflict with the behests either of the community or of morality. " "It is of the so-called moral liberty you speak?" . l8 THE PLAY OF FATE "The moral liberty, yes," interrupted the count "Just so for there is no other actual liberty. What you call liberty is in reality only the right, from a sensual point of view, to determine for one's self his course of action. In other words, the right to be a slave to sensuality and the baser of human passions. Only he who, in the struggle against these, has achieved the power to govern them, is actually free, and at the same time, really happy. Only such also are ripe for freedom in the signification that you assume. You, my son, do not yet possess the former liberty, there- fore I will not accord you the latter." "You must forgive me, father," answered Eberhard scornfully, "if I cannot reconcile myself with that rigorous code of morals of which you preach. There are different ways of seeking happiness, as individuals differ in cast of mind, inclination and habit, and to determine objectively what pleasure is, seems, there- fore, to be impossible. The poet seeks it in his fan- tasias, the miser in his gold, the drunkard in the glass, the scientist in his investigations, the religionist in his meditations, the chieftain in the favor of his royal master. Who is brave enough to stand fortli and de- clare the one or the other is mistaken in his choice? That the miser, for example, when he counts his gold heaps, is less happy than the scholar delving after the hidden treasure of nature. They arrive at exactly the same end; the one with his gold, the other with his wisdom. The one plays with pieces of metal or bits of colored paper, the other with the stars of the firma- ment, or the flowers and stones of the earth. Like children, they have different playthings are pleased with different objects, nothing further. Well, what harm has the miser done that has followed his bent PROLOGUE ig more than the wise man who has followed his? Can he help it that the lump in his breast, which he is pleased to call a heart, is inspired with a love for gold? Quite as little as the other can quench his love for science. All mankind are vassals, and the law of nature that sways us most, we obey. It is fate that plays with us, and allots to each his toy. Let me retain mine, father, and no one will covet yours." With rising anger, the count listened to these bold paradoxes to which the dispirited young man gave vent. The principles of the fatalist, in their most pronounced form, uttered with that tone of assurance and conviction, could not other than make an impres- sion more or less repugnant to the count's noble and exalted sensibilities. "Eberhard," said he finally, in a serious tone, his glance resting upon the young man, who now, with folded arms, stood leaning against the tree at whose base he had before been sitting, "Eberhard, the princi- ples which you pretend to advocate are nothing else than a wretched shield behind which vice and crime are trying to defend themselves. "There is no inexorable natural law that blindly conducts us, like children with eyes bandaged, in its leading string. There is an indulgent Providence which has certainly put into our hearts diverse incli- nations, but it gave us also a conscience elastic and strong enough to subdue the evil and choose the good. Do not think, my boy," continued the count, pointing to the setting sun, "that yon orb, which day after day diffuses its life-giving beams over the earth, shines alone for a class from whom the inner, the spiritual light is absent. No, just as it, with its glowing rays, out of nothing brings continual newness, continuous 20 THE PLAY OF FATE growing forms, so stands even liberty's sun in the heaven of the soul, and nurses the flower in its spring, ripens the fruit in its autumn. But the seeds of evil sprout and grow in the darkness, their fruits shun the light, and ripen after sunset. " During these utterances, the count had approached the edge of the precipice in order to get a better view of the magnificent picture which the changing Swiss landscape presented. Just as he had concluded these words, the last ray of the sun disappeared behind the western mountains. At that instant a horrible resolve sprang up in Eberhard's breast. "The River Inn is deep," thought he. "That which is concealed in its bosom never emerges. A push with this arm and I am free." And, as with a thou- sand voices, the spirits of the precipice whispered with, in him: "You are free " The young man's temples throbbed, his limbs trem- bled, and a cold perspiration broke out upon his fore- head. With stealthy step he neared the count, who was now wholly absorbed in the beautiful landscape surrounding him. "See, Eberhard," said he, "see what a beautiful, what a magnificent picture! Can you, at such a sight, doubt that there is a benign Power, a Power full of love " His utterances were here cut short by a push from the arm of his son, which hurled him headlong over the cliff. With labored breathing and blood shot eyes, the patricide leaned over and listened, and out of the depths he seemed to hear his father's voice uttering a curse, then all was quiet. He arose and laid his hand upon his forehead. It PROLOGUE 21 was damp and cold. Softly he withdrew from the edge of the cliff that had witnessed the consummation of his dreadful thoughts. "It is not I," cried he, "it is fate!" From the surrounding cliffs, the echo answered, "It is fate! " And with slow pace, Eberhard withdrew from the scene of his awful deed. Some weeks later, one might have read in the Swed- ish papers: "By foreign post, we have received advices that a shocking accident has befallen one of the most promi- nent of our countrymen. Chief Marshal Count Stjerne- krantz, one of our wealthiest magnates, and by all who are honored with his acquaintance, recognized also as one of nature's noblemen, and a distinguished scholar, while journeying through Southern Europe, has lost his life by a dreadful accident. The count, one beautiful June evening, with his son, who accom- panied him in his travels, had climbed to the top of a steep mountain, whose frowning cliffs rise perpendicu- larly over the rushing water of the Tyrolean River Inn. Lost in contemplating the beautiful picture spread before hirn, he unconsciously approached the edge of a frightful precipice. Stepping upon some loose stones, his feet slipped, and with a half stifled cry of terror, the unfortunate gentleman was precipitated in- to the turbulent stream far below. The young count, who was at the time on the other side of the rock, rushed forward, and we may imagine his horror and despair when no trace of his father was discernible. It required of the young man an almost superhuman effort to restrain him from throwing himself also into the waves that had, beyond a doubt, become the grave of his beloved parent. To further augment the <* 22 THE PLAY OF FATE bitter grief of the young man, the body of the drowned gentleman was not recovered, notwithstanding a most diligent search, extending over many days, was pros- ecuted. This is easily explained when one is made aware that the current of the river at this point is uncommonly strong, and that a whirlpool here is of sufficient strength to draw to the bottom and retain there whatever may come within its dominion. "Count Stjernekrantz owned, in addition to many other possessions, the beautiful estate of Odensvik, situated in the southern part of Wermland, near the shores of Lake Wener. To this rich domain, the aforenamed son, Count Eberhard Stjernekrantz, is the only heir. "The latter has, in order to dispel his grief over his fearful loss, journeyed into Italy." THE PLAY OF FATE CHAPTER I THE LITTLE WOOD GATHERER It was one evening in the month of October, in the second year after the terrible incident just described. Darkness was approaching. A cold mist enveloped the earth with a gray sheet, and from the cloud covered heavens descended gently a fine rain. It was one of those chilly, unpleasant days that, characteristic of Sweden's autumns, make the temper disagreeable and chill like the air itself. On the north shore of Lake Wener, a few miles west of Carlstad, lies a thick, dark, pine forest belonging to a large estate, whose buildings are erected on a point jutting out into the lake. Through this forest is a high road, now widening its course, by many bends and curves, up the steep hills, now running level and straight among the tall-stemmed pines. At a certain point, by the side of the road, is raised a large pile D stones and brushwood which the passing peasants have heaped up by degrees to mark the spot where, some time ago, a murder was committed a custom quite common in many quarters of Sweden, and especially in the middle country. The hour was about five of the afore -mentioned even- ing, when a slight, very plainly clad boy, quite alone, 23 24 THE PLAY OF FATE might have been seen plodding along the highway, and arriving at the monument, he paused before it. The poor boy was apparently about ten years of age, very thin and pale. Covering his spare figure, he wore an old, tattered, woolen jacket, which some day might have been green, but was now much faded by time. The texture and cut of the garment indicated, nev- ertheless, that its wearer had seen better days, while his clear face and intelligent expression bore, unmis- takably, the signs of good breeding and careful train- ing. The features of the boyish face were dark, but regular and uncommonly handsome A head of luxuriant coal- black hair fell in long, natural curls around a well- built, though somewhat sun-browned neck, and out of the lively brown eyes flashed a fire which expressed, at the same time, innocence and intelligence. The poor lad was trembling with cold, for his thin jacket and scanty pantaloons were insufficient to pro- tect him against the chill autumn air, and the fine, incessant rain-drops that penetrated them. "Ugh! but it is dark in these woods, " muttered he to himself, "and I am so cold and wet. But that is nothing, "-continued he bravely; "my mother is ill and will perish with cold if I do not gather some sticks; therefore, lively about it." At the conclusion of these words, the boy scrambled up the side of the stone pile and hastened to collect a portion of the dry twigs and branches that had been thrown there. Meantime, the gloom deepened, the shadows of the tall, dusky pine trunks grew longer and longer, darker and darker, and thicker and thicker the fog that slowly rose from the damp earth. The boy began once more to be afraid. THE LITTLE WOOD -GATHERER 25 His thoughts quickly turned to the tragedy that had been enacted upon the spot, a terrible thing of \vhich he had often heard the people of the neighborhood speak. The blood froze in his veins when the fact suddenly rushed in upon him that he was on the very place where that horrible crime was committed, and employed in taking away a portion of the awful guard which had been built during the many years since its occurrence, as a frightful warning to the future. ft seemed to him that he was almost committing a sin, a sacrilege, in taking away these sticks He has- tily cast back those he had already gathered, as near as possible to their former resting places, and dashed with the utmost speed down from the stone pile. "No," said he in an undertone, "I dare not take any- thing from that fearful place. The murdered man might come and demand the return of his property. I must, therefore, go into the forest and search after wood. But it is so dark in there so dark! I will at least get out of the neighborhood of this place that fills me with such horror." The boy began to run at his best along the road, as if followed b)' the ghost of the murdered man. At some distance from the object of his consternation he halted, and placed his hand over his violently beating little heart. "So,"' said he with firmness, "now I'Jl go into the woods and gather my sticks. How stupid of me to be afraid, for God and the gentle Saviour protect little children, if they are good and humble. Mamma has told me so, and she knows what she is talking about." With this consoling thought the little boy began, in a weak but uncommonly clear and sweet voice, to sing a verse from the Psalms. 26 THE PLAY OF FATE Turning from the road and continuing his song, he made his way some distance into the dark forest, where, to his great joy, he found an abundance of dry branches and sticks which had been scattered about by the storms In a few minutes he had gathered as much of a load as his young shoulders could support, and placing them in a pile, he bound them with a piece of rope which he had brought with him, and with difficulty lifted and slung them upon his back. "So," said he cheerily, "now for home, and mamma shall warm herself while I make some hot soup for her. Won't that be good?" Joyfully he hastened back to the roadway and bent his steps in the direction from which he had come. Meantime, it had become quite dark and the rain was still falling. The little wood-gatherer, who, until now, had been sustained by the thought of his sick mother, whom he expected to cheer with his success and the warm broth, began to discover that he had reckoned beyond his strength. His burden was altogether too heavy for his delicate shoulders. His gait became unsteady, and he was many times tempted to drop the whole and hasten home. But again, the image of that hun- gry and freezing mother was before his eyes, and al- though growing faint under his exertions and the cold, he dragged himself along yet a little way, en- couraged and comforted. Thus he had reached the outskirts of the forest and found himself surrounded with wooded pastures and fields, the latter, for the most part, already harvested. Exhausted, and chilled through, he halted beside a stone, upon which he seated himself, and, with tears in his eyes, dropped his burden at his feet. From his THE LITTLE WOOD-GATHERER 27 resting place he had a full view of the Wener, and the outlines of a large gray stone house situated on a peninsula, rose before him in the dim distance. "Why," muttered the boy to himself, "why should I be compelled to trudge through this forest and drag this heavy bundle of sticks, wet to the skin, cold and hungry, while they who dwell in yon splendid stone house may sit before a fire in its grand halls warming themselves, eating nuts and baked apples. Ah! baked apples! how long it is since I have tasted any, and I may never taste them again." The child began to cry bitterly. There was yet a considerable distance to travel be,ore he could reach his mother's hut. Having rested somewhat, he arose, intending to continue his way, and had already, though with great difficulty, succeeded in shouldering his load, holding it fast with one hand, while with the other he wiped away the tears that were streaming copiously down his cheeks, when sounds of an approaching carriage reached his ears. He paused and listened attentively. "Oh, if that were some kind hearted peasant with whom I might ride a short distance," thought he. "God grant it may be!" But no. The vehicle that rolled into view was a magnificent carriage drawn by three showy horses driven by a coachman in liver)'. It was one of those large, and specially for this season of the year com- fortable traveling conveyances which are provided with high doors, closing tightly against the roof, so that the whole has more the appearance of a little house on wheels than a carriage. "If I dared to jump on behind," said the boy, as the conveyance approached him. "I wonder if it would 28 THE PLAY OF FATE be wrong? I don't know. Mamma never told me so, but she has said that if my thoughts incline me to something about which there is any uncertainty in my mind it is either wicked or akin to wickedness. Whether or not, I will not do it before I have asked her. It is surely better that 1 do not jump on behind. Yes, I ought to obey my good mamma and do nothing that I do not know is right. But she is freezing, hun- gry and ill, and I am not strong enough to drag this heavy load home alone. Good God, what shall I do!" The carriage had now reached the way in front of the boy, who concealed himself behind the trunk of a large tree, growing at the edge of the ditch border- ing the road. "I believe I'll jump on, anyway," thought he. "It can be no great sin, at most." So said, so done. When the carriage arrived oppo- site the tree behind which the boy was concealed, he sprang forward, and with his last remaining strength had the good fortune to reach the rear seat, where he placed himself, holding his bundle before him on his knees. His little heart beat fast with anxiety lest he be discovered and driven from his place. But a long time passed without anyone inside having apparently noticed his presence, and he had begun to believe himself out of danger, when, unfortunately, one of the long dry sticks scraped the side of the carriage. "Hold on, driver! " called a harsh voice from with- in. The carriage was brought to a stand. The little boy trembled with alarm. He could not muster suffi- cient strength to jump down and run away "Some one is sitting on the rear of the carriage," continued the voice. "Get down and see who it is." THE LITTLE WOOD -GATHERER 2Q A servant who was sitting beside the driver, sprang to the ground to obey his master's command, and ap- proached the boy who, nearly half dead with fright, drew himself into a heap at one end of. the seat, still holding fast to his precious bundle of sticks. The servant grasped him tightly by the arm and dragged him roughly to the ground, whereupon his bundle fell from his hands, and the rope becoming untied, his sticks were scattered upon the ground. In tears the boy stooped to pick them up, but the hard-hearted servant checked him, at the same time thrusting him forward to the coach door. "Herr Baron," said he, "it is a little beggar that was on the back seat. Here I have him." The carriage door opened. The frightened bey vent- ured to cast a glance within. The darkness prevented his distinguishing the countenances of the occupants, but he noticed that there was a man and a woman, holding a sleeping child upon their knees, and oppo- site these, on the rear seat, a boy of about six years, and beside him another gentleman of tall figure and clad in a traveling-cloak of dark cloth. The first mentioned gentleman thrust his head through the doorway, and grasping the wood gatherer tightly by the arm, shook him vigorously. "I'll teach you, you thief," cried he, in angry tones, "to climb upon the carriages of strange people. Where did you learn such capers?" "O, my good sir," pleaded the weeping boy, "I am not a thief. I am a poor boy, only carrying a bundle of wood from the forest to my mother, who is lying ill and freezing in our miserable hut, and I was so tired that I could no longer bear my burden, wherefore I made bold to climb upon the back seat of your car- riage. I did not know it was wrong." 30 THE PLAY OF FATE "Enough of your prating," interrupted the traveler at the same time relaxing his hold, "these beggars are always crying about sick mothers. It is so general that one hears nothing else. You lie, as all your ilk are liars/' "Papa," said the boy sitting within, "may I hit the little beggar with my whip?" And without waiting for an answer, he bent forward through the carriage door and struck the poor lad in the face with the whip he held in his hand. "Stop that, George!" exclaimed the gentleman who, enveloped in a traveling-cloak, was riding backward in the carriage, at the same time catching the arm of the little tyrant, "don't do that. The poor boy has been sufficiently punished for his insignificant fault, and it is shocking to see a child of your years exhibit such an inclination to be cruel." The wood gatherer cast a look of gratitude at the speaker, but the boy in the carriage retorted inso- lently: "You need not concern yourself about me, master, when my father says nothing. " The gentleman thus addressed made no reply, but heaved a deep sigh. "Get up there, Johan," commanded the austere gen- tleman. "And you. boy, learn that hereafter you must not ride when you have not received permission to do so. Drive on, coachman!" The carriage rolled away. The little wood-gatherer clasped his hands over his eyes and wept, bitterly, violently, as only a child can weep. "I told him m) r mother was sick," sobbed he, "and he declared that I lied called me a thief and his lit- tle boy struck me in the face with his whip. Such are THE LITTLE WOOD-GATHERER 3! the rich. Had it been a poor peasant coming along, he would not have driven me away, much less struck me and called me a thief I, who never stole so much as a pin. O, my God! How shall I get home to my dear mamma! " The boy stopped and began to gather his sticks, while fresh tears sprang to his eyes. "Why do you weep, my poor child?" came a voice in compassionate tones, and at the same time a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder. The boy looked up. Before him stood a young man, his attire almost reduced to rags, and with a wild, weather-beaten face, whose coarse outlines, neverthe- less, in that glance seemed to be softened by a natural tenderness. "Why do you weep?" he repeated. The tone in which this was uttered gave the boy confidence, notwithstanding the wild aspect and the red, unkempt hair and beard of the person addressing him. He related, with the straightforwardness of a child, his cause of distress, and even gave an account of his adventure with the occupants of the carriage, and the outrageous treatment to which he had been subjected. The man with the red hair clenched his fists in rage at the completion of the recital. "Yes, such they are!" muttered he, stamping the ground in anger. "Such they are, those rich and haughty aristocrats who look upon themselves as creat- ures of a higher order than the poor and oppressed. It' is mean to so treat a poor child. How old are you?" continued he, turning to the boy. "Almost ten years." "Have you attended school?" 32 THE PLAY OF PATF. "Yes, I go every day to the kind pastor in our vil- lage, who, without pay, gives me instructions." "So, ho! And what do you learn from him?" "O, much," burst forth the boy. "I read history, Latin and German, and have recently begun geometry. But you cannot understand what these things mean." "O, yes," answered the man in a sorrowful tone, "I understand them all very well, for I also attended school when I was about your age. I found great pleasure, as well, in reading and studying the works of which you speak; but the rich people hunted me out into the world, and wrought my destruction, ' he continued with growing wrath. "It is they who have made me what I am, and I have, therefore, sworn to hate them until my death." The speaker paused, seeming to be overwhelmed with bitter thoughts. "Hear me, boy," said he finally. "You shall swear to evermore hate the rich and haughty who oppress you, and all poor people; you shall swear to pursue them so long as a drop of blood remains in your veins; you shall swear Hannibal's oath against the accursed caste. Do you understand me?" "O, yes," cried the boy, who, in his present wrought- up condition was in a high degree fascinated by the man's awful and menacing words. "Hannibal's oath! I know it very well, for I have read about him in Cornelius. It was he who in his childhood swore to forever hate the Romans, an oath he kept faithfully to the end of his days." "Well," resumed the man," you shall swear the same oath against the rich and haughty. They are our Romans, and we are their Carthaginians. They call us thieves and beggars, while they squeeze from us the THE LITTLE WOOD-GATHERER 33 last penny we possess while they fatten in their stately palaces upon our sweat and blood. Curses upon them ! " "Curses upon them!" repeated the boy, thoroughly carried away. "I swear to hate them!" "Good!" said the man admiringly. "What is your name, my boy?" "Maurits Sterner," replied the child. "Sterner?" said the other in surprise. "You have a very pretty name. Does your father live?" 'I don't know," answered the bo}-, "I have never seen him; my mother says he is dead, but that I shall in time be informed who he was." "Hm!" muttered the man between his teeth. "A bastard, then. Another liaison, maybe, of some of the gentry." "Your father," continued he in louder tones, "was not named Sterner then?" "No, that name my mother and the priest, my teacher, found for me. They agreed that I should be so called, for one must have a name, they said." :i And how long have you borne that name?" "Something more than a year, Before that I was called only Maurits." "Where do you live?" "Near the little village that lies over yonder. " And the boy pointed forward, but on account of the dark- ness, which was now complete, one could not distin- guish the houses thereof. "And your mother and you live alone in a hut?" in- quired the man. "Yes, we are very poor. But it was not always so. " "Not always so! How was it, then?" 34 THE PLAY OF FATE "We once had a pretty little house, a few miles from here, with a garden attached in which I could run and play. I had also a paid teacher who came to o.ir house every day to instruct me, and I could then sit before thi tire autumn evenings and bake apples and eat nuts. That is past now, and instead, I mus 1 go to the forest to gather wood for my poor mother, who, through sorrow and suffering, has become very feeble." "But how does it happen that you are so very poor?" "I don't know. My mother says that my father was alive in those days and paid our expenses; but he is now dead and can no longer help us." "Did you never see your father during that time?" "I saw a gentleman who sometimes came to see us, and who was very good, but I do not know if he were my father, for no one ever told me so. I have many times asked mamma concerning it, but she says I may not know until I am twenty years old. Such was his parting wish." During this dialogue, the red-headed man had gath- ered together the sticks that Maurits had brought thus far on his way home, and, throwing the bundle over his shoulders, he took the boy by the hand and said: "Come, let us go. I will carry the wood for you, and we can continue our conversation on the way." "You are very kind to help me," said the boy feel- ingly. "That rich man struck me, and called me a thief, and you, who are poor, carry my burden. This is strange!" "Oh, no," said the man grimly, "it is quite ordinary. But tell me, my boy, how do you live since you and your mother have become poor?" "When my mother is well, she works very diligently. THE LITl'LE WOOD-GATHERER 35 She sews for many of the gentry in the neighborhood, and by times spins and weaves cloth which she sells in the market place. In this manner we manage to get along; but now," added the boy weeping, "I see nothing for us but starvation, for mamma is sick and can no longer work." "Console yourself, my poor child," said the man compassionately. "Your mother will recover, with time, no doubt; meanwhile, some kind-.hearted person will come to your relief, let u hope. But what does your mother call herself?" "She is called Madam Sterner by our neighbors, be- cause, since I received that name, she has assumed it in order that hers may be the same as mine. She loves me so much, my good mother." "What was her name before?" "That I do not know," answered the boy. "Her baptismal name is Augusta; but if she ever had a surname, I have not learned it." "An extraordinary story," muttered the young man to himself. "He is a bastard, that is clear; but he does not yet know what that means, poor boy. I am truly sorry for the poor child." "Maurits," continued he aloud, "if you and your mother come to great need, go you at the end of eight days, that is to say next Friday, at five o'clock in the afternoon, to that old stone-pile that lies by the road- side near the edge of the forest, which was thrown up to preserve the memory of a murder that was com- mitted there a few years ago. Do you know the place?" "Oh, yes," answered the boy with an involuntary shudder. "I have been there this evening. I became frightened and ran away. But what shall I do there next Friday?" 36 THE PLAY OF FATE "You will find me there," replied this singular man, "and if I can in any way help } r ou in your trouble, I will do so, depend upon it." 'You!" exclaimed the boy with surprise. "In what manner can you help me? Can you procure bread for my poor mother and me?" "That is not impossible, my boy. If you do not need my assistance, so much the better. But come at any rate, for J have much to tell you. Let no one know anything about our appointment, however." "Not even my mother?" "No, not even her. That would destroy everything. " "What is your name?" asked Maurits, with some misgivings. "I my name is Jacob Kron. But here we have the village before us. Which is your mother's house?" "It lies a little to one side of the others. I can't see it in the dark; but here is the road that leads to it." ' Good ! I will leave you now. You have had time to regain your strength, and can easily carry your bundle of wood the remainder of the way. Do not forget your oath, and keep in mind five o'clock Friday evening at the murdered man's monument." "I'll be there," answered the boy, after a little re- flection. "Meantime, let me thank you for carrying my wood, and for having been so kind to me. I shall pray to the good God for you this evening before I sleep." "Do so, my good child," said Jacob with feeling. "I need your prayers very much. Farewell!" The boy took the bundle upon his shoulders, grasped the hand of his new-found acquaintance, and turned THE LITTLE WOOD GATHERER 37 into the little road that led to his mother's hnt, while Jacob continued his way down the high-road. CHAPTER II MOTHER AND SON The little wood-gatherer dragged his burden onward through a narrow lane, at length, at the termination thereof, nearing a little hut, a dilapidated structure presenting a sorry picture. The straw roof was almost rotted away, and the door so low that even the boy was compelled to stoop when entering to escape strik- ing his head against the lintel. Entering the porch, he began with his little hands, red and benumbed with cold, to search upon the right door-post for the bolt. "Is that you, Maurits?" was heard in a weak and anxious voice from within. "Yes, mamma, I'll be with you soon." "God be praised!" Maurits now opened the door, and entered a cold and gloomy room so dark that no object was discerni- ble. "Thank the Lord, you are with me again, my dear child," continued a gentle voice, which came from a bed in one corner of the room. "I have been so anx- ious lest you had gone astray, or had been overtaken and devoured by wolves. Why have you been so long away?" "Comfort yourself, mother," answered the shivering lad. "I have a large bundle of wood with me, and I will soon make a fire so that you can warm yourself, 38 MOTHER AND SON 39 and I will also make some warm soup for you from the little piece of meat we have remaining, after which you shall have an account of my adventures." "Your adventures, my boy!" exclaimed the mother anxiously. "You have surely not been in an}' danger, 1 hope!" "No, no, not in danger, but one may, nevertheless, have his little adventures. How do you feel now, mother?" "I am very faint, and it is freezing cold in this room, although I have all my clothes on, and all our bed covering. Otherwise, I feel no pain." "Be of good cheer, mother, we'll soon be able to warm ourselves. Usch! My clothes are wet quite through, for it is raining hard." "My poor boy! God spare you from sickness in con- sequence!" "Don't be alarmed, mamma! See, the fire is finally started. " Maurits had busied himself during this conversation, and had at last succeeded in starting a fire in the tinder-box, which he had taken from the mantelpiece. He then lighted a piece ot candle remaining in a can- dlestick upon the table, and hastened to start a fire in the fireplace, and soon the little room was warmed by a cheerful blaze. The room was also suddenly lighted up. The furniture thus revealed was a singular mixture of poverty and neatness yes, almost of ele- gance. The walls and ceiling were black with age, and through a single little window the only daylight i n- tered; the tables and chairs were of the plainest make, and a sofa which stood at one side of the room showed no sign of paint. But, withal, there were many arti- 40 THE PLAY OF FATE cles that indicated better days, and which seemed to be the remains of a time of plenty if not of luxury. The bed in which the sick woman lay was surrounded by white curtains, at present drawn together, so that one could but imperfectly discern the fine contour of the emaciated form that reclined within. By the wall, near the bed, stood a handsome bu- reau, and upon it a small toilet mirror, whose glass, though cracked, revealed an elegance in keeping with the prettiest of boudoirs. The bureau was covered with a white spread, and at the side of the mirror stood two crystal vases a present perhaps, from some loved one upon one of which lay a small gold ring with a setting of blue stone shaped to represent a for- get-me-not. Against the wall nearest the fireplace stood a cup- board, a receptacle for the various articles of table- ware, and among sundry clay dishes, wooden plates, and tin spoons, two cups of finest India porcelain were noticeable. The floor, white as snow, was strewn with pine twigs, and the wooden chairs and table displayed the utmost neatness, order and cleanliness. In a word, there was to be seen in that hut a strong blending of poverty and luxury. It was for the possessor, a mournful, but, without doubt, a precious reminder of the bright days of youth, love, and happiness. That mirror, those crystal vases, those porcelaii. cups, how many memories, sweet and holy, were prob- ably associated with them, and may it not be that the broken glass, sometime in its earlier days, reflected a face blushing in the happiness of love, beaming with youth and beauty? And that gold ring with its for- get-me-nots, who knows but it was, in an instant of MOTHER AND SON 4! transport, pressed upon the owner's finger by some loved hand as a seal of eternal faith, whose bond only death should sever? Precious and sad relics these, of a past in strange contrast with the other objects that denoted a melan- choly and bitter present. Yes; for those tottering, unplastered walls, that roof blackened with smoke, those clumsy wooden chairs, and that worm-eaten table, that candlestick holding a flickering stump of candle, and, finally, that thinly- clad, half-frozen boy crouching in a heap before the fire, in the effort to dry his wet clothes by the sputter- ing flames from a few soggy sticks brought from the forest, all this was a mournful remembrance of a bitter certainty, against which the aforementioned articles of luxury formed a striking, a mocking comparison. 'Now, mamma, I'll make you some soup," said Maurits, after he had warmed himself before the fire a few minutes. "I am no longer cold, and my clothes will soon dry, so don't worry." The poor boy had told a falsehood in order to con- sole his mother, for his teeth were still chattering from cold. 'God bless you, my little boy, for your tender love," sobbed the mother; "but come here first and help me to get up, so that I may get nearer the fire. It will do me good." "If only there is no danger, mamma," said Maurits, in troubled tones. "Ought you not to remain quiet?" "Oh, no, my child, I do not feel very ill now, but my limbs are numb from cold. Come, therefore, and assist me, like a good boy. " Maurits hastened to drag a heavy chair forward to the fire, after which he approached the bed to assist his mother. 42 THli PLAY OF 1 FAfE The sick woman raised herself with difficulty, and, leaning upon her son's youthful shoulders, tottered to the fireplace, where, wholly exhausted, she sank into the chair that had been prepared for her. This woman seemed to be twenty-seven or twenty- eight years old, but sorrow and sickness had blanched her cheeks, and slacked the former fire in her deep-set eyes. Otherwise, in that pleasingly composed and gentle face, shaded by a luxuriance of raven black hair, a heavenly tranquillity and resignation were reflected. Her form, much reduced and bent, was clad in a poor and thin, nevertheless very tastily made dress of black bombazine, fitting neatly the uncommonly pretty waist, and buttoning high up on the throat. It was quite apparent that this woman, in her early youth, was endowed with surpassing beauty. Even yet there were unmistakable traces of it, though sor- row had changed the roses of her cheeks to white lilies, and, instead of the former luster in those dark eyes, had given them a calm, dreamy, and melancholy expression. The poor mother, when she sank into the chair be- fore the fireplace, threw her arms around her son's neck, and pressed her little darling's head to her bosom. "Mamma," said the boy finally, at the same time loosening his mother's arms, "the fire will soon be out, and I must make your soup. Then I must roast the potatoes in the embers, shall I not?" "Yes, my good child, but first take off your jacket and hang it before the fire to dry. " Maurits obeyed. Then, filling a vessel with water, he laid a small piece of meat therein, and set it upon the fire. MOTHER AND SON 43 "Now," said he with touching tenderness, "you shall have a good, strengthening meal, mother mine. You need it after your long suffering from cold." He now drew up a chair and seated himself by her side. "You give no thought to yourself, my little boy," said Mrs. Sterner, brushing the long black locks from her son's clear forehead; " you forget your own hunger in your love for me God bless you! " "Ah, mother, that is of no consequence. I am not very hungry, and if I get a piece of bread I shall have enough; but it is too bad that we should be so poor and deserted." "It is, indeed, my son," said Madame Sterner, with tears in her eyes. "We are certainly poor and aban- dorred, as you say, but we must love and support each other. Shall we not?" "Forever, mamma," cried the boy, throwing himself upon her breast. "I will always love you, and when I grow up and have a little house, as pretty as we once had before we were poor, you shall come and live with your little Maurits, and you shall have a garden in which to walk, and plenty of the pretty flowers you love so much." The poor mother could not answer for tears, and only pressed her son closer to her bosom. "My dear child, >; said she after a time, with broken voice, "God grant that I may some day see you prosper- ous and happy. I could then, with joy, close my eyes; but oh, a voice tells me that we shall separate ere long.'' "Separate, mamma! Never!" "Yes, my friend, your mother must leave you; she is going to seek him whom she loved, and who went be- 44 THE PLAY OF FATE fore her to another world; but her eyes shall follow you constantly from those beautiful halls. There she will rejoice when it goes well with you, and sorrow when it goes ill." "No, mother," sobbed the child, "do not talk so. You are not going away from your Maurits who loves you so dearly. Heavenly Father! what would become of me then?" "Well, let us talk of something else, my son. Afflictions will come soon enough without courting them. Tell me now, as you promised, what kept you so long in the forest." "Ah, it is a long story, mother, but you must not be angry with me, though you may think I have done wrong." "Done wrong! " "Yes, I jumped upon a carriage that was going along the road. " "That was not right, my little boy." "I did not know it was wrong, and I was so tired, so tired, and so fearfully cold. I had net the strength to carry that heavy load of sticks so far. I felt that I must, nevertheless, get them home in order to warm 3'ou. I thought, therefore, that the good God would surely forgive me if T climbed on to the back of the carriage; but he didn't, tor I was severely punished for my mistake." "In what manner, my child?" Maurits related, in tones of indignation, how he had been treated by the gentleman in the carriage, and how insulting words had been heaped upon him, how he had been called thief and liar; also, how the little boy had struck him in the face with a whip. "My poor boy!" said Mrs. Sterner, when he had MOTHER AND SON 45 finished his narration, "you were, as you say, cruelly punished for your misconduct. It was too bad of that gentleman to so treat a child of your years." "Yes," broke forth the boy, "such are they, these rich and noble! They treat the poor and abandoned worse than a dog to which they sometimes throw a bone; but oftener lash with a whip. They are more pitiless than wild animals." "For God's sake, do not speak so, my child," ex- claimed Mrs Sterner, earnestly. "O no, my dear child, there are noble,upright and good-hearted people among all classes. The rich are not worse than others. You must not think so, though that gentleman whom you chanced to offend this evening seems to have conducted himself harshly and inhumanly. " "Yes, mamma," continued the boy with warmth, "they are all cruel and uncharitable; so thought also the red-haired man whom I met later, and who was kind enough to help me with my burden." ''The red-haired man!" exclaimed the mother in sur- prise. "You have not told me about him, Maurits. " "Wait. One can't think of everything at once. When the carriage had gone on its way, and I in tears was picking up my sticks that had been scattered far and wide, a red-haired man, very poorly clad, came up with me. He asked me why I wept, and, when I told him, he was very angry with the gentleman, and said that all the rich were alike, heartless and unkind. He had suffered much evil at their hands, he said, and had, therefore, sworn to ever hate and persecute them. " "Great God!" exclaimed the mother. "Did he say this to you?" "Yes, mamma, he even exhorted me to swear that I 46 THE PLAY OF FATE too would always hate them to swear Hannibal's oath against the accursed class, as he expressed it." "And you, what did you do?" interrupted Mrs. Sterner, with the liveliest anxiety, a shudder at the same time passing over her. "Mamma," exclaimed Maurits, without answering his mother, "do you not see that the soup is boiling over? I must take the pan oft the fire; but I am afraid I shall burn myself. " "Boy," cried the mother, almost beside herself, grasping the child by the arm, "answer my question!" "What question, mother?" greatly surprised at his mother's emotion. "What did you do when the red-haired man urged you to swear that you would forever hate the rich?" "I I swore, I believe," answered Maurits. The child did not yet understand the gravity of that awful oath. He regarded the act as one of little sig- nificance. "Heavenly Father!" broke forth the mother in de- spair, hiding her face in her hands. "What have you done, unfortunate child? Do you know what a horri- ble oath you have taken? Do you know whom you have sworn to hate? O, God, it is terrible!" "Don't grieve, mother," said Maurits, weeping, and throwing his thin arms round his mother's neck; "had I known that you would have taken it so ili, I should not, of course, have done as the red-head bade me, but I did not know there was any harm in it. 1 "Yes, yes, my son, ' said Mrs. Sterner more calmly, "that is all that comforts me, that you did not know the harm. You are a child, and you have been easily misled, unable to distinguish the evil import of the oath exacted from you by che man. But you must MOTHER AND SON 47 promise me never more to think of what he said to you. You must forget it, otherwise I shall be grieved to death." ''Don't cry any more, mamma," interrupted Maurits. "I promise that I will do everything you wish if you will be your former self again, and kind to your little boy. I'll say to the red-head, when I meet him, that you were greatly grieved over our meeting and the oath, and that I have, therefore, thought better of it. ' "No, no, you shall never talk with that creature again. He is a dangerous man, and you must avoid him." "A dangerous man!" said the boy in surprise. "He is surely not dangerous, but very good hearted, for he helped me to carry my sticks, and did not strike me as the rich man did." "Believe me, my child, the man whom you thought so kind, has done you far more harm than the rich gentleman who was so brutal to you." "How so, mamma? I do not understand you." "Because he would teach you to hate, and there is no feeling more cruel, more unchristian and barbaric, than hate. Do you not know that God has commanded us to love our fellow men as brothers, though they be high or low, rich or poor, friends or enemies? Do you not know that love is the basis of all that is beau- tiful, all that is good, all that is elevating upon earth? That it is this feeling that strews our pathway with roses of peace, happiness and joy, while hate begets nothing but misfortune, sorrow, and crime the this- tles and weeds in our existence? Obey me, therefore, my dear child, and guard against another meeting with that man, who would exterminate the flowers of love, and sow seeds of hate in their stead." 4 > THE PLAY OF KATE "But, mamma, said Maurits, "did not the rich man, in his way, make an attempt to teach me to hate?" "How do you mean?" "Has he not, by his cruelty, much more than the red-head by his talk, tended to instill into me that feeling? If he had been kind toward me, I should not have done as the other man bade me. The former has thus been quite as dangerous to me as the latter." Mrs. Sterner was greatly surprised at the acuteness of the child. She was forced to admit, without ac- knowledging so much, that Maurits was right. "You may be right in this, my child," said she. "The rich are not aware, many times, what ill they do by their harshness toward the poor. It is not enough that they misuse them and rob them of their material things, they make even their souls bitter and hateful, and destroy every germ of love within them. God will one day demand a reckoning from the rich for the many acts of injustice they have committed against the poor." "Yes, mamma, the red-haired man, whose name is Jacob Kron, said also that they ruined him and brought him to' what he is. He had been to school; said he had read the same things that I read daily, for the good Pastor Bergholm, but the rich had hunted him out into the world and caused his downfall, wherefore he had become reckless and full of hate." "It seems to me that you took careful note of all the man said," resumed Mrs. Sterner. "Yes, mamma, he asked me many questions about my parents, and would know who my father was." "And what answer did ) r ou give?" "I told him all I knew; that we formerly lived in a pretty house, and had all and more than we needed; MOTHER AND SON 49 that a gentleman, whom I believed to be my father, visited us often, and was very kind to us, but that he was now dead, and that we were obliged, therefore, to move from our pretty little home and .our garden, having become very poor. But when the stranger asked me what my father's name was, I was almost ashamed that I did not know." "You need not be ashamed, my dear child," ex- claimed Mrs. Sterner, lifting her head proudly; "there is no stain attached to your birth, and notwithstanding all I have suffered, notwithstanding that I am mis- judged and slandered, I can, nevertheless, God be praised! without occasion for a blush, look the world in t-he face, point to you and say: 'He is my son.'" "But, mamma, was my father then so poor, when he died, that he could not leave us anything upon which to subsist?" "No, my child, your father was rich, very rich, one of the richest among the rich, You can thus easily understand the cause of my great distress when I heard you state that you had sworn to ever hate the rich. It was as if the son would hate his father's memory." "But," interrupted Maurits, "if my father was rich, why are we so poor? Why do we dwell in this miser- able hut?" "Well, my son. concerning this, I will relate to you all that I am permitted, but you must promise me never to speak of it to anyone." "I promise you, mamma." "Good. I will trust you. Hear then Before I became the wife of your father, he had been married once before, and had a son by his first wife. The marriage after, with me, took place in great secrecy. There are not now more than two persons living who 5O THE PLAY OF FATE could testify to it, and they are the priest who joined us and one of the two witnesses who were present at the ceremony. Your lather is now dead and his death occurred so suddenly and unexpectedly that he had not yet made a testament in our behalf. All his pos- sessions fell, therefore, intact to the elder son, your half brother. When your father died, even the assist- ance he had given us ceased, and so it happened that we must leave the pretty house we formerly occu- pied." "But, mamma," said Maurits, "I have then a brother, alive and rich?" "Yes, you have a brother. ' "And why does he not help us?" "He does not know that we are his kin. He does not even know of our existence." "But why not tell him?" "Maurits," said Mrs. Sterner, much moved, "would you want to do a something that your father, a very honorable man, had forbidden? Would you, after his death, break a command that he had given while yet alive? Would you not regard it as your most sacred duty to conduct yourself as he had desired?" "Yes, mamma, I would never disobey his wishes." ' Well, the same law is in. force with me. I have a most sacred duty to perform. That which my dear, my absent husband enjoined upon me I must inviola- bly hold to, however much my heart may bleed, how- ever great the sacrifices I must make, the injustice I must submit to. Do you not see it, my son?" "Yes, but did my father then object to your asking his rich son for assistance?" "When I saw your father last, Maurits, he said to me: "My friend, I am about to undertake a long MOTHER AND SON 5! journey. It will be a long time ere we again see each other. Meantime, I have made provision, frugal, but sufficient, for the subsistence of you and our son. You can live quietly and free from care, and, before I die, I'll provide for your future. But one thing, Augusta, I ask a pledge from you. It is that you will not reveal to anyone the bond that joins you to me. I will it that my son shall not know his father's name, and his position in life, before he has reached his twentieth year. I do not wish him to be brought up in luxury and idleness, but frugally and simply, so that, if through his own efforts, he shall sometime acquire riches he may know how to use them worthily. Do you promise me this, my dear?' So said your father, Maurits; such was the promise he exacted from me, and I promised. Hence it is that we cannot ask your brother to help us, for my promise is holy." "Yes, mother, it is clear to me now. But why did my father exact such a promise from you?" "He had seen, he said, in his elder son the evil in- fluences that the certainty of great wealth to come ex- ercises. That son had been ungrateful, indolent, and frivolous. He had caused his father many troubles and much sorrow, wherefore the good and noble man wished to have you brought up in an entirely different manner. He was anxious that you should not think yourself rich; he wished you to learn to earn your own bread, and by your own efforts make your way in the world. He could have made you very rich, but he would not, lest you be spoiled thereby. 'My son,' said he, 'shall never inherit from me more than enough to keep him from actual want. If he desires wealth, he must acquire it by his own industry. A man should never possess more than he can save as a result of 52 THE PLAY OF FATE his own efforts after he has had a good bringing up by his parents; and this they are in duty bound to give him, but nothing more.' So said your noble and es- timable father." "Yes," said the boy, "I understand clearly my fa- ther's intentions, and have no doubt they were for my benefit. But when he did not succeed in completing that bringing up, a duty he confessed himself bound to perform toward me, why did he not, at his death, give my mother the means therefor?" "Without doubt he so intended, my child, but fort- une willed it that your father should die very sudden- ly; that in the full bloom of his manhood he should fall by a frightful accident Thus he had no time to make a provision for our maintenance, and we were in a short time destitute, as you know." "And we now have nothing more than the little you can earn, good mother. We must often freeze and starve, while my rich brother has everything in pro- fusion. It is, nevertheless, hard." "Be of good cheer, my Maurits. Relief will come sooner or later, though it may sometimes look dark and discouraging. God will not abandon us if we pray to him and put our trust in him, and, although we are now poor, let us still hope that you may one day be all your noble father could wish, a good, a happy, and by your own efforts, an independent man. " "I am, then, not to know my right name until I am twenty years old?" said Maurits. Mrs. Sterner rose, and with unsteady step reached the bureau, opened a drawer, and from it took a sealed package. "Maurits," said she, when she had regained her place before the fire, "this packet, which you are given au- MOTHER AND SON 53 thority to open when you reach your twentieth birth- da)', contains the evidences of your birth, together with a communication to you from your father. He sealed it himself, and left it in my hands to guard. 'If I am still alive at that time,' said he, 'these papers are un- necessary. But if I am dead, my son will be able, by their means, to establish his birthright, and to assume the name that belongs to him. ' When I die, Maurits," added Mrs. Sterner, "you must take the packet into your keeping, and I am satisfied that you cherish a sufficient love and veneration for your parents' memory, not to break the seal before the appointed time." "Certainly not, mother," answered the boy, eyeing the mysterious packet with childish curiosity. 'But why did my father wish me not to take his name be- fore my twentieth year?" "I have already informed you that your father de- sired you should have a plain and simple bringing up; that he wished you to grow up in the belief that you possessed nothing, and could have no more than you could earn for yourself by your industry and frugality. He feared that should you be made aware you are the son of a rich man, you would be dissatisfied and ill at ease with the lot he had designed for you; that you would become envious, imprudent, and reckless, with the prospect before you that your father's death would assure you an abundance, and remove all necessity for exertion on your part. That was one of the reasons why he would keep from you your right name until you had reached an age when, with ripe understand- ing, and calm scrutiny, you could weigh and choose for yourself what seemed to you best." "Then my father desired that I should not know I am the son of a rich man? :> 54 THE PLAY OF FATE "That was his wish." "Then why have you told me?" "Because, since your father is dead, it can do you no harm. You can no longer be carried away by the foolish hopes and expectations from which he sought to withhold you, knowing your father's property has all gone to your brother, for, even if you should, at some future time, make known your birthright, you could get only so much as your brother felt disposed to be- stow upon you as a gift. The estate he inherited is, so to speak, of that character that, according to law, it falls to the elder son. The younger receives noth- ing, unless the will of the deceased so specifies. Your father, as I have already said, did not make a special will, because he died so suddenly that he had no op- portunity, even if he would have done so. Thus you are, and must remain, without inheritance, my little boy. " "But that is an unjust law that makes one brother rich and the other poor," remonstrated Maurits. "Very true, my child; it is, without doubt, one of the most unreasonable laws that has ever been enacted ; but we can't help it, and it being so, I hope my son possesses enough pride and strength never to beg from another the bread he ought to procure for himself. " "Never, mamma," cried the little boy resolutely; "that I'll never do. I shall work and be diligent in my studies so that I may soon go as a student to Upsala. With an education, I can make my way. Be assured, mother, I shall never ask my brother for the least assistance, even if I come to know his name. I shall regard it an honor to struggle for myself, as my good father wished me to do." "Do so, my son," said the mother with feeling. "If MOTHER AND SON 55 I am permitted to live, and regain my health, you shall not want while you are with me. And in the matter of your education, Pastor Bergholm says it will not be necessary for you to go to school; that he will teach you all that is required for an academy course, and when that time comes, which will not be sooner than seven or eight years, I hope to be able to give you a little assistance, if my life is spared." "You, mamma! " "Yes, I have a small sum laid aside on my son's ac- count, " answered Mrs. Sterner. "When your father died, and we were compelled to move to this little hut, I gathered up the most costly of the trinkets I had received from him, took them to the nearest city and sold them. A portion of this money I have al- ready used in our support; but the greater portion I spared for certain purposes, and notwithstanding all the afflictions we have experienced, the want against which we have had to battle, I have not touched so much as a shilling of that little treasure, nor will I do so. It is the only inheritance I can leave you, Maurits. " "My good, my dear mother, " said the boy, with tears of gratitude, "how much you do for me In order to help me at some future time you will endure trials, hunger, and cold. But you have never said anything to me about this saving." "No, but as we have this evening talked about our troubles and sufferings, I wish to give you a little en- couragement for the future. At first I thought to em- ploy this money to help you through some school, but the generous Pastor Bergholm God reward him! un- dertook, so willingly, to give you instructions, without compensation, that I determined to spare it until the 56 THE PLAY OF FATE time arrives when you must go to the academy. But the fire will soon be burned out. Put some potatoes in the ashes, then we will sup and go to rest." Maurits took a few of the remaining potatoes from a measure in one corner of the room, laid them in the ashes, then poured a portion of the warm soup he had made into one of the before-mentioned tea-cups, and with a piece of coarse bread, which he took from the cupboard, gave it to his mother. "Now, mother, you shall eat your supper. I'll wait till the potatoes are ready." "By no means, my child. Take the other cup and drink the soup that remains in the pan. You need something warm, having been out in the cold rain." "No, mother. What is left, you must have for your dinner to-morrow with the meat. Remember that at present we have nothing else to eat besides bread and a few potatoes. With the latter, I'll get along well enough until you are well and can work again. But the soup I shall warm for you to-morrow." "Do as I bid you, my good child," said Mrs. Sterner, deeply moved at the new evidence of her darling's affection. "Take, at least, a little of the soup. There will be some provision for morning. And more, I hope to be well enough to finish those shirts for the In- spector of Odensvik. I shall then get a little money with which to buy meat and herrings." "But, mother, if you continue to be ill, there is nothing with which to revive your strength. Let me, as I am young and well, eat the bread and potatoes, until I see that you are fully recovered. I assure you that I would gladly go to bed hungry for your sake " This touching contention between mother and son continued for some time, and it was not until Mrs. MOTHER AND SON 57 Sterner had commanded him, that Maurits was pre- vailed upon to eat a few spoonfuls of the soup. He then raked the potatoes from the ashes, and ate them with some salt and bread, but he could not be induced to touch the piece of meat, for this was all that re- mained for his mother's nourishment during the com- ing day. "So, I am quite satisfied, mother," said he at the conclusion of his meal. "Now I'll prepare the bed so that you may lie comfortably. You have no other chambermaid than your little Maurits. Poor mamma!" The boy approached the bed and put it in order, thereafter prepared his own upon the sofa that stood against the opposite wall, and, having repeated aloud an evening prayer, mother and son retired to rest and sleep. CHAPTER III PASTOR BERGHOLM The following morning Maurits was up with the sun. His mother still slept. The boy went quietly to the little book-shelf hanging over the bureau, took therefrom several books, and seated himself at the table, where he began to study industriously, at which he continued two or more hours. At nine o'clock, ne was due at the parsonage, where the good pastor gave him instruction in various branches of learning, and as Maurits loved his teacher, and, moreover, found the greatest pleasure in his studies, he was anxious always to master his tasks, and never to miss his lessons. The hut in which Mrs. Sterner dwelt with her son, was situated a little distance from a small hamlet on the estate of Odensvik, a large domain belonging to Count Stjernekrantz. At one end of this hamlet was the parsonage, called Brotorp, a little, red-painted, one-story house, surrounded by a few birch and cherry trees. Here it was that Maurits' teacher, Pastor Berg- holm, resided. Pastor Bergholm was a man about fifty years old, known and respected, far and wide, as much for his gentle manners, as for his extended learning in nearly all branches of science. There was in all Sweden scarcely a minister who could measure himself with the good pastor in knowledge. 58 PASTOR BERGHOLM 59 He was a great historian, a profound theologian, thoroughly familiar with mathematics and philosophy, and, above all, deeply versed in classical literature- The poets of Rome and Greece, the historian and thinker, all had opened their treasure chambers to the poor parson. They had transported him into a world of brightness and beauty in which he sough 1 and found consolation for all the bitter disappoint- ments and adversities with which the present seemed to flood him. He also employed every hour he could steal from his duties in further sounding the unfathomable ocean of science, and he regarded every day lest of which he was unable to get a few hours for study. In fact, he lived only when he was studying. Household mat- ters and economic cares were to the poor scholar heavy chains that retarded the flight of his soul; therefore, he turned from them, and made his escape whenever it was possible. Meantime, he often, nevertheless, was made to feel their pressure, for Pastor Bergholm had a large household to maintain upon his small in- come. His family consisted of a wife and five chil- dren, of whom the oldest was not more than twelve years of age, the pastor having married quite late in life. Pastor Bergholm was one of those unfortunate be- ings who seemed to calculate amiss in all his under- takings. Many times he was thought to be on the eve of promotion to a lucrative holding, but he always failed for want of necessary endorsement. He did not understand the necessity, or how to ingratiate himself with the powers that be, and believed, with childish simplicity, that merit required no recommendations to pave its way to betterment. Nor could he humble 60 THE PLAY OF FATE himself to bend the knee to his superiors. Thus he was left in his obscure position. And, although he won the highest honors in his examinations, and was universally acknowledged as a sincere and upright man, he continued a mere parish priest with only the small income of fifty bushels of grain a year. Depressed, on account of these adversities, the par- son had determined to remain where he was and allow his more fortunate brothers of the cloth to strive after the crumbs if they wished. This determination he persisted in with firmness, in spite of Madame Bergholm's zealous and assiduous exhortations. The pastor was in all else ready to yield to his wife. He allowed her to manage the household affairs just as it pleased her, glad to shift the whole of the heavy burden to her shoulders; but as often as she urged him to put in an application for a pastorate, he ejaculated a decisive, no! The wife wept, screamed, stamped the floor, and asked her husband if he intended to starve himself, his wife and their children in this abominable hole. She discoursed on all the drudgery and care imposed upon her in the effort to keep the wolf from the door, while he did nothing but sit and hang over his old Latin volumes, which had never, thus far, brought him a. shilling, and she swore finally, to apply for a divorce if he could not be persuaded to seek better emplo}'- ment. "Wife," said the pastor, on one of these occasions, which occurred every time Madame Bergholm heard that a pastorate was vacant "Wife, I have made many efforts, that you know, but our Lord seems to be unwilling that I should leave this place where I have dwelt for more than twenty years, and I am sure PASTOR BERGHOLM 6l it will be unavailing for me to try any longer; there- fore, be content with what we have. Be patient, Brita. " "Patient," shrieked the wife in a rage, "you prate of nothing but patience and patience, while your poor wife must live in continual tribulation. " And now fol- lowed a storm of words upon which it was impossible to put a check, and which the poor pastor could not escape by other means than stopping his ears with his fingers, and, with the utmost haste, dashing upstairs to his little attic, locking the door behind him. Chased to this refuge, he soon forgot all the morti- fication he had endured, for he hastened to take down from a shelf the work of one of the classical authors and buried himself in his reading. Pastor Bergholm was regarded as a quaint body. Together with his absent mindedness, so common among scholars, he went about matters of practical life in a most awkward manner, and, notwithstanding his high character and unostentatiousness, he gave his parishioners numerous occasions for a smile. Many stories were related in the neighborhood about him. Once at a baptism he turned the child up end down; another time he was found on his way to church with Cicero's Epistcl he was loved by all the suffering and sorrowing; therefore it was that his name was blessed in many a poor hut by the little children who, but for him, must have many times ex- perienced the pangs of hunger. Thus his distractions were easily overlooked, and his awkwardness and often ludicrous manners, at which one could not help laughing but never without adding: "He is, at all events, a good soul. God bless him." Such was the priest who had taken upon himself to conduct Maurits in his lessons. It was about two years before the opening of this story, when one beau- tiful morning a poorly, but neatly clad woman, lead- ing a child by the hand, presented herself at the door of the parsonage, and asked to see the pastor. She was conducted to his study where he was found clad in an old and very much worn coat, which had done service since his student days, and was now used as a study gown. PASTOR BERGHOLM 63 The pastor pushed his books aside at her entrance, and for some seconds scanned his visitor, who, upon crossing the threshold, had paused and was standing meekly by the door. "Herr Pastor," said she, with trembling voice, "it has been told me that you are very kind and generous; that you never send away, uncomforted, those who come to you in distress, therefore I am come." "Speak, woman," said the pastor, returning from the world of fancy in which he had been wandering, "speak! What can I do for you?" The poor mother unbosomed herself to him. She informed him that she resided a few miles distant in a pretty house for which her husband had paid the rent; that sne had lived there happily employed with the bringing up of a son, for whom the father had procured a teacher. But her husband had died sud- denly in a foreign land, leaving her on the verge of poverty. "For my own part," continued she, "I can work and thereby obtain the necessary food for myself and my son, but I am at a loss to know what to do with re- gard to my son's education, for the little money I have remaining from the sale of my articles of luxury pos- sessed by me at my husband's death, is insufficient for the expenses of a school. Wherefore I have sought your advice." "What is your name?" asked the pastor, moved by the woman's tears. "My name," said she, trembling, "permit me to with- hold from you my correct name. I am not free to reveal it." "How! Not free to reveal your name?" "Ah, dear sir," proceeded the poor woman, sobbing, 64 THE PLAY OF FATE "I beg you by all that is holy, do not ask me what my name .is. I must not reveal it." "Your son is the.n a bastard?" "O, my God, even this!" murmured the unhappy visitor, burying her face in her hands in despair. "A bastard! " cried she. "No, no, do not think that. I swear to you that he was born in lawful wedlock. But, Herr Pastor, you know there can be secrets that are holy; there can be promises whose violation can be a sin in the eyes of God, a crime against the memory of a loved one who rests in his grave. Believe me, I must not divulge my husband's name, because he has forbidden it, and dishonor may fall upon me be- fore I will break my promise." "Your marriage, then, was what we call a secret wedlock?" interrupted the pastor. "Yes, yes, it was secret. But I have in my posses- sion, nevertheless, evidences of its legality. Some- time, if I live so long, I shall be at liberty to make it public. Until then,- I must be resigned to my lot need, wretchedness and despair. God has so willed." The poor woman hid her face in her hands and wept. Pastor Bergholm was deeply moved by this mani- festation of sorrow. He even wiped a tear from his eye and regarded the poor mother, pleading for her son, with a glance of heartfelt compassion. There was about the young and beautiful, though pale and wasted woman, an expression that quite ban- ished the little mistrust that the pastor, for an instant, entertained. He felt himself irresistibly conquered by her grace, her sorrow and tears. That sorrow must be sincere, thought he, she cannot dissimulate. Her forehead is too clear for that. PASTOR BERGHOLM 65 "Woman," said he finally, "I believe you. You can- not lie, and I know for the rest that there are such things as secrets which one must respect. I promise . to respect yours, however extraordinary it may be. I will, therefore, gladly assist you with your son's edu- cation. Where is he? " "He remained in the yard, while I came up here." "Good! I am poor, that you know. I wish it were not so, that I might help you otherwise in your need; but I have many children of my own, with a wife and a very small income. 1 will myself undertake the in- struction of your son together with that of my own boy, if you will fix your residence near me here. It would cost too much to send him to a school." ; 'O, my God! You yourself will teach him, Herr Pastor! How shall I ever repay you for such kind- ness?" "Your son shall receive instruction without pa) 7 , " answered the priest. "If I am allowed to live, and he conducts himself well, and is attentive, I will prepare him for the academy." "God bless you, noble man! " exclaimed the mother with tears of gratitude. ''You have lifted a heavy bur den from my heart, for I should have been so unhap- py if my poverty had made it necessary that my son's studies must cease." 'Good, good! But one thing more. Where will you live?" "Ah, I do not yet know. If I could find a little cot- tage in this neighborhood, I should be immeasurably happy. I could, without difficulty, I believe, earn our support." "I'll procure you such a place," interrupted the priest. "There is such a one near here unoccupied. 66 THE PLAY OF FATE It is, to be sure, very much out of repair, but I think, notwithstanding, that the inside will be found habita- ble and not cold. Will you have it?" "O, Herr Pastor, my lasting thanks. "The cottage," interrupted the pastor, "belongs to the present owner of the estate of Odensvik." "Odensvik!" cried she trembling, "shall I live upon the estate of Odensvik?" "Yes," said the priest, without having observed her emotion. "Odensvik is at present owned by the young Count Stjernekrantz, and was recently inherited from his father, who, we are informed, died in a foreign land. The count is not at home. He has gone to Italy to dispel his grief, they say. Meanwhile, I'll arrange the matter with his steward, with whom 1 am acquainted. I believe it will be possible to secure it for a few riks-dollars a year." "Must it come to this?" muttered the wretched wo man. "Must I live in a house on the estate of Odens- vik? What a play of fate!" "Are you not pleased with my proposition, woman?" asked the priest. "Yes, Herr Pastor. God bless you!" "Very good. What kind of work can you do that will earn your bread?" "I can sew, weave, and spin. God grant that I may find some such employment." "I'll procure work for you. There are many estates hereabout, and the need of a competent seamstress has long been felt. I will so recommend you that you shall have an abundance to do. To begin with, you may make some shirts for my boy which my wife has not had time to do. I will pay you for your work." "No, no, Herr Pastor! You shall not pay me. I PASTOR BERGHOLM 67 will sew all your shirts without pay. That is the least I can do since you have shown me so much kind- ness. " "Hush! I will pay you, I say. I have already prom- ised to instruct your son without consideration. The shirts are another matter. Fetch the boy now that I may see him. " The mother retired, returning in a short time lead- ing the boy by the hand. The pastor began at once to examine the child, and was more than pleased with his quick and compre- hensive answers, as well as with his lively and intel- ligent face, "That is good, my son," said he. "You have al- ready made good progress in your studies, I see. What is your name?" "Maurits, " answered the boy. "How old are you?" "Eight years. " ' Good, my dear Maurits. I have just promised your mother to become your guide and teacher. Would you be willing to read for me?" "Ah, yes, I am very fond of reading." "Excellent! excellent! We shall go through the classics together, my boy. That will be a pleasure; but you must be very industrious. You cannot yet have gone so far as the rudiments, but in a few years, if we are permitted to live, we shall read Virgil, Taci- tus, and Lucretius. You do not yet know them by name, I dare say, but T will make you acquainted with them. Depend upon it." "You are indeed kind, Herr Pastor," said the moth- er, much moved. "One thing more," continued the priest. "The boy 68 THE PLAY OF FATE must have some additional name. What has he thus far been called?" "He has had no other name than the one I myself bore from my father, who was a gardener named Johansson. " "Indeed! " said the pastor. "Johansson is surely a good name, that is not to be disputed, but it is too vulgar. My little disciple must have a pretty name. What do you say?" "Ah, yes, Hefr Pastor, think up one." "Let me see," said he, pondering, "could we not call him Sterner? In my boyhood I had a much-loved friend so named." "Indeed," said the woman with feeling, "that is a very pretty name. Sterner signifies star, Herr Pastor." "Yes, so it does, and he will be a little star, let us hope. Well, what do you say?" "Let us call him Sterner, then. I will also take the name, in order that mine shall not differ from that of my son. " So this matter was settled, and Maurits Sterner, with his mother, moved the next day into the aforemen- tioned little dwelling. The good pastor was faithful to the promise given the mother of the boy. Through his recommendations, the widow received an abundance of employment from the neighboring gentry, and was thereby enabled to earn enough to keep herself and her son fairly provided with the necessaries of life, while the latter went daily to the parsonage to pursue his studies. Naturally, the people of the neighborhood indulged in many speculations and guesses regarding Mrs. Sterner and her son. She was an unsolvable riddle to them, whose earlier history they tried in vain to PASTOR BERGHOLM 69 unravel, and furnished the gossips of the region a never failing subject of conversation. The belief prevailed, quite generally, that Maurits was a "child of sin," the product of an unfortunate and criminal love, and that the mother, now deserted by her lover, to hide her shame from the world, had fled to a remote and miserable hut, where she must support herself by work. Meanwhile, two years sped away. All things -grow old, and the gossip about the poor woman and her child had begun to subside. Moreover, her modest, unassuming manners, her submissiveness, coupled with her industry and expertness as a seamstress, had, by degrees, quieted many of the evil tongues, and the diligent occupant of the hut had changed from an ob- ject of reproach and scorn to one of compassion and interest. And how could she other than awaken an interest in the nobler and more generous heart? A mother living for her son alone, a poor forsaken creat- ure with such a meek, soulful face; such a heavenly resignation shining from her dark eyes? That woman whose heart pulsated for only one; who possessed nothing in the world besides her darling, for whose sake she offered up her days, her nights, and who though manifestly much above the ordinary peasant, must pass her life in a half rotten hut, and notwith- standing all this, never asked anyone to help her carry her cross, never accepted charity if proffered; how could she other than become an object of great curi- osity, many speculations, and the admiration of all? O, it had indeed been cruel, inhuman, to seek to crush that unprotected creature who possessed noth- ing, to oppose in her defense. Who can, without feeling, see a mother in her love sacrificing strength, JO THE PLAY OF FATE health, life, everything, as she toils through the slowly dragging hours of night, seeking to provide the bare necessities of life for the object of her love, lying yonder in its little couch surrounded by the angels of innocence? Is there to be found a sight more charm- ing, a purpose more holy, anything more heavenly, more Godlike than a love like this? Mrs. Sterner never received visitors, except such as came from the neighboring estates to bring work, or to take away that completed. Her fame as a trust- worthy, quick, and competent seamstress had gone far and wide, and so long as she was well, she \vas never in want of employment. On the contrary, she usually had more than she could do. Her only caller, except those who came on business, was Pastor Bergholm. The noble priest found gen- uine pleasure in that little hut, sitting before the fire on an autumn or winter evening, in conversing with the woman in whom he discovered a rich vein of love and poetry. That she had been well reared he could not doubt, although she would never unbosom herself to anyone concerning her early life. That she was the daughter of a gardener, on one of the estates of Southern Sweden, was the most that he knew with certainty, about her. And he marveled more than once over the excellent tact, the good breeding, the culture far above her station revealed daily in these visits. Maurits, in the meantime, had gained high place in the pastor's favor. In this child, he had found all that he could have wished in his own son; all the interest in his studies, the disposition and reach of soul that led him to hope he would one day do his teacher honor. The good priest, whose own son PASTOR BERGHOLM Jl showed little inclination for books, but on the con- trary a great deal more for the plane, the turning- lathe, and building boats and such, looked forward with keen anticipation to the day when the industrious and apt Maurits would be able to begin reading the classics, and with corresponding thought and sympathy imbibe the same love, the same admiration for the charming literature of the past, as he who had found in them the well-spring of his most delightful pleasures, during a toilsome life that had been seldom brightened by good fortune. In this manner, as we have said, two years had passed. Count Stjernekrantz, owner of Odensvik, con- tinued his travels abroad, and Mrs. Sterner lived un- disturbed with her son in the little hut, the rent for which she paid by sewing shirts and other garments for the steward of the large estate. During these two years, it had many times gone hard with Mrs. Sterner and her son, but no great need had befallen them so long as the mother remained well. Her health had been impaired not a little by night vigils and exertion, however, and at the time our story begins she had, as we have seen, been com- pelled for some days to take to her bed. It would not have been difficult for Mrs. Sterner to have procured help in her distress from the; residents of the surrounding estates, for whom she had worked. Many would have hastened, gladly, to the stricken woman, and proffered her every assistance, for, as has already been said, she had awakened in man}' hearts the deepest sympathy. But the poor woman pos- sessed an independence, one may term it pride if he will, that would not allow her to accept the slightest assistance that might be regarded as alms. To beg, 72 THE PLAY OF FATE to be under obligations to others, was far worse to her than to suffer the greatest need. "I know well," said she, "that the time may come when I and my son must appeal to the Christian hearts of our neighbors. When it does come, I will endure it with becoming humility; but so long as a little strength remains to me, so long as it is possible to escape it, I shall never beg. I shall seek a maintenance with my hands. It is my duty. Beggary is disgrace, work an honor. " That was poverty's pride. It was a mother's pride that her son should sometime say, 'Mother, I have to thank you for all I am and have. " The rich, when they read this will shrug their shoul- ders and say, "She had nothing of which to be proud. A poor person is not too gocd to take alms. If she sinks she must accuse herself. Poverty and pride are most wretched companions." Yes, they will say so, for the rich do not understand poverty any better than the poor comprehend riches. Each, therefore, does the other injustice. We ac- knowledge that. But where is the greatest injustice? We ask the question only. After this necessary digression, we return to that October morning when we left Maurits a*, the table, bent over his books, studying out the lessons of the CHAPTER IV THE PUPIL It was a cold and disagreeable morning, that on which we left Maurits hard at work at his lessons. The sky was overcast with dark clouds, from which an icy rain was falling. The hour was about half past eight when Maurits closed his books, arose and upon tiptoe approached the bedside ot his sleeping mother. Cautiously he drew back the. bed-curtains, and with a pure, childish love, contemplated the face that was turned toward him, lighted by a half smile that told him his mother was traveling in a beautiful dream, land. She uttered a name in her sleep. It was his. "Maurits, my son! ' these were the sounds that crept over the slumberer's smiling lips. "She is thinking of me, she dreams of me," whis- pered the boy softly to himself. ."O, my good, my dear mother!" He stooped a"nd kissed the thin white hand that hung over the edge of the bed, then falling upon his knees at the foot thereof, clasped his hands and softly murmured a prayer: "Good God, restore my mother to health. Let her again be well and cheerful, and let me die for her." At this instant, the mother moved in her bed, opened her eyes little by little, and slowly returned from the 74 THE PLAY OF FATE kingdom of dreams. A heavenly smile flitted across her lips at the scene before her. She saw her son, her all on earth, upon his knees at her bedside, in tears, pleading with God for her recovery. "Maurits," she whispered softly, and her arms were opened to clasp the little boy, who at once nestled his head upon her breast. "How do you feel to-day, mamma?" asked he, after a lengthy silence, during which mother and son had held each other in close embrace. "I am better, my little boy," answered Mrs. Sterner with feeble voice," I shall soon be quite well." The poor mother told a falsehood to spare her son distress, for she knew herself to be more feeble than the day before. She felt the fever afresh upon her. "Do you wish me to remain home with you, mam- ma?" continued Maurits. "No, my child, you must not miss your lesson. The pastor would be displeased if you should stay away. Go, my friend; I will read the Bible meanwhile, since I am not yet strong enough to work." "Won't you have something to eat?" "No, not until you return at mid-day. I am not at all hungry." 'Good, mamma!. I will go to the forest again this evening and get some wood so that you need not suffer from cold. And so I will do every day until you are well and can earn money with which to buy our fuel. But how are we to get food, mamma, when the little we now have is gone?" "Do not be distressed about that, my child, there will surely be some way of providing. Go now, that ypu may not be late at the parsonage." Maurits obeyed, took his books, and departed after once more kissing his mother's hand. THE PUPIL 75 He passed through the lane that led out to the broad highway, running through the village, at one end of which, as has been mentioned, Pastor Bergholm's residence was situated. Before the boy could reach the village he must pass a bridge spanning a swift and turbulent stream which at no great distance flowed into the Wener. "Maurits! Maurits!" A cry was heard just as he set his foot upon the bridge. He looked in the direction whence the voice came, and upon the bank of the stream, between two elms, discovered a little boy, of about his own age, eagerly engaged with a bark boat, which he allowed to sail down the stream, after fastening it with a long string, one end of which he held in his hand. "Bless me! Is that you, Oscar?" called Maurits from the bridge. "With what are you amusing your- self?" "I am trying my new boat," answered Oscar Berg- holm cheerily. "Come here and you shall see how nicely she floats. Just like a big ship." "All right," answered Maurits, "I'll come." Springing from the bridge, he leaped over the fence and was soon at the side of his fellow-student. It had ceased raining; the sky had begun to clear up, and now and then a ray of sunshine shot through the sundered clouds. "Ah! see the sun!" cried Oscar, clapping his hands in joy. "It will surely be nice weather now. If you will, Maurits, we will borrow a large boat from the miller. It is such fun to row." "But you forget," interrupted the widow's son, "that we ought to begin our exercises at the parsonage at nine o'clock," 76 THE PLAY OF FATE "Ah, that is true," said'Oscar in a vexed tone. "One can never attempt any sport but those stupid lessons are in the way. Have you mastered yours?" "Yes. And you?" "That is mean. Papa told me this morning that I must read my lessons over again, and that if I failed in them a second time I must stand in the dunce's corner. But it is absolutely impossible to understand the rule in our grammar given us "for to day. I worked at it a while, but tired of it, and ran away to play with my boat. What shall I do now, wonder?" "I'll explain the rule to you, Oscar, " replied the gen- erous Maurits, "I understand it perfectly, and before we get to the parsonage, I can teach it to you." "Thank you. But were it not better if I could es- cape the lesson to-day? Do you know, I think I'll jump into the river with my clothes on, and say that I fell in by accident." "Not bad," said Maurits, "but you would then be put to bed for the rest of the day, and that would not be so funny. Come, that's a good 'fellow, let us show ourselves industrious and willing." 'O, if I could only get out of that Latin," sighed Oscar. "O, Latin is so nice." "Yes, for you to whom all things are so easy," broke in the boy, as the two quit the river and started on their way through the village, "but it is another thing with me, who can learn nothing." "My dear Oscar, it surprises me that you have no inclination for study; you, the son of such a learned man." Conversing thus, the two boys had reached the market-place of the village, where they noticed a THE PUPIL 77 throng of people composed of-all ages and occupations, but chiefly of women and children. Soon the shrill tones of a hand-organ reached their ears. Beside him- self with joy, Oscar hastened forward, and elbowed a passage through the crowd to its very center, while Maurits calmly pursued his way, hardly casting a glance at the object of his comrade's curiosity. "Maurits, Maurits!" shouted Oscar from the center of the crowd, "he has a monkey. He has a monkey that does tricks. Come here and see him." That was something new. Maurits could not re- member that he had ever seen a monkey, and curiosity for once got the upper hand. "I must, at the least, get a peep at him, if no more," thought Maurits; "and I may succeed in getting Oscar away from the throng, or he will forget all about his lesson. " The boy having thus decided hurried forward, and had soon cleared his way through the mass to the side of Oscar, whom he found eagerly watching the clever tricks and graceful movements of a little mon- key, tricked out in a red frock, a neck-cloth, and a large, loose, paper collar around his throat, and a clown's cap upon his head. The droll little animal danced to the tones of the organ, which was turned by an old man with a long gray beard reaching quite down to his waist. "Oscar," said Maurits, when he had vie,wed the spec- tacle a few minutes, "we must go now, your father awaits us. " "Go now!" exclaimed the other earnestly; "no, thank you, I shall remain here awhile yet and enjoy the fun. See what jumps he makes. I have never seen anything so funny. Do you not think with me?" 78 THE PLAY OF FATE "Yes, but we may see - it again when we have per- mission and more time." "Isn't it jolly?" said Oscar. "See how he starts on his rounds among the people with his hat! O, if I only had something to drop into it! " "The young gentleman shall have his wish," said an old peasant who stood near and heard Oscar's words. "I can get it back sometime." "Thanks! thanks! Father Andres," cried the boy with joy, "you shall have it again this afternoon." The organ-player approached the two boys, standing beside each other, and stretched forth his tattered hat. Oscar carelessly threw his copper piece into the hat, while Maurits scrutinized the meanly attired old man. An indistinct recollection flitted through the boy's mind. He felt that he had seen that countenance be- fore, or one that resembled it very much, but he could not remember when or where. The old man, nearing Maurits, regarded him sharp- ly, then stretched forth his hat asking for alms. "Dear father," said the boy, somewhat embarrassed, "I am very sorry that I have nothing to give you."' "Keep in mind next Friday and five o'clock, at the stone heap," muttered the organ-grinder in a low voice, passing on. "It is he it is the red-head who carried my bundle of sticks," thought Maurits in surprise. "But how in the world has he become so old since last night?" The boy vainly sought an explanation of the extra- ordinary circumstance. Meanwhile, the organ grinder had completed his round and began now, as if in thanks for the coppers he had received, to grind out a hideously screaming waltz upon the miserable in- strument. THE PUPIL 79 "Oscar,"- said Maurits, pulling his comrade by the arm, "I am now determined to go; will you follow me?" "No, not now. Go on, I'll come soon." "What do you wish me to say to your father if he asks after you?" "Say that I fell down and have hurt myself." "Fie! you know that I will not lie." "Very well, then say what you will, but leave me in peace. See, he is beginning to dance again. 1 ' When Maurits saw that he could not persuade his little companion to accompany him, he quit the place and set out alone to the parsonage. "Good day, my son," said the pastor when the boy entered his study, where he found his teacher plunged into a large folio, "how r is your mother?" "Mamma is better to-day, thank you." "That is good, my boy. Have you learned the rules of syntax as I directed? " "Yes, Herr Pastor." "Good! 'Diligent ia est mater doctrines,' as Lucretius very aptly expresses it. But do you know where my Oscar has gone?" "Yes, Herr Pastor, he is standing down in the vil- lage watching an organ-grinder." "An organ-grinder! And such vagabonds are found even in our village! That boy is ever ready to spend his time in trifling." "But the organ-grinder, " interrupted Maurits, "had a monkey with him, also, that dances and performs many tricks. A very cunning little fellow." "A monkey," resumed the pastor; "how can one find pleasure in the antics of such a creature!" "He was dressed in a little red frock, and wore up- on his head a little cap trimmed with bells." 80 THE PLAY OF FATE "Bah! my boy! Simia est simia, aurea gestet insignia. But we must now read a piece from Cornelius, while we wait for my son, the truant. Think you he has learned his lesson?" "I do not know, Herr Pastor, he said there was a rule he did not understand." "My dear Maurits, " said the pastor, "have you no cloak?" "No, Herr Pastor." "You cannot go so thinly clad, my boy. You shall have one of my old coats that my wife has cast aside as useless. It can be changed by your mother when she gets well. The gift is not great, and it will be useful to you. " "You are very good, my dear pastor," said Maurits; "but I don't know that mother will allow me to take it." "Hush! you shall take the coat, I say. It is better that you should have it than that it should hang in the store-room to be devoured by moths. Read now, while I fill my pipe." Maurits read and the pastor smoked, by times look- ing through the window to see if he could descry Oscar coming. After a time, a heavy step was heard upon the stairs. The door opened and Mrs. Bergholm en- tered, dragging the reluctant Oscar by the hand. Mrs. Bergholm, in figure, was the exact opposite of her husband. The latter was tall and lean, moved with great deliberation, and spoke slowly and with correct enunciation. The wife, on the contrary, was short and thick, had a shrill, piping voice, which, when angered, went to a- still higher key, while a stream of words, impossible to check, flowed from her lips. Otherwise, she was a very good-hearted person, and THE PUPIL 8l an exceedingly good housekeeper, with only the little failing, that she would never restrain her violent tem- per. An occasion for the exhibition of her fury was now at hand. The unfortunate Oscar, after Maurits parted from him, had indulged in a fisticuff with one of the peasant .boys, and had returned home with his clothes torn, and a bloody nose. "Bergholm! ' screamed the little woman at the door, "I say to you that this boy ought to be whipped for a good-for-nothing. Here he has been fighting again with Anders Persson's Olle, and has had a tooth knocked out, and you sit here smoking your old pipe and reading, never inquiring whether your child has been killed by the vulgar young one. Is it proper that the boy should be allowed to run off in this manner without my knowledge? Haven't I enough to do with- out running after him? Why don't you punish him when he is disobedient?" "Hush! woman!" roared the pastor in great distress, "and leave me in peace. I gave Oscar permission to go out. He should have been here at nine o'clock to read, but he has remained away beyond his leave to see an organ grinder and a monkey, Maurits has in- formed me. He shall be punished for his disobe- dience. Go down stairs and don't scream the ears off me. " After a few more effusions, though in somewhat milder tones, Mrs Bergholm went her way, leaving Oscar in the chimney corner. "Oscar, come here," said the pastor. Oscar approached his father, manifesting no fear, for he knew that his parent could not be very severe with him. 82 THE PLAY OF FATE "Boy!" exclaimed the pastor, "you have again dis- obeyed me. Who gave you permission to waste your lesson hour, and get into a scuffle with Anders Persson's Olle? O, finer, infelix et scelerata!" "Anders Persson's Olle kicked the poor monkey, papa," replied the bo)', "then I became angry, and slapped his face, so we got into a scuffle." ''Ah, so!" said the pastor, somewhat pacified by the explanation. "But you have no right to pass judg- ment upon the acts of other boys of the village. You could have laid the matter before Olle's father, who, no doubt, would have punished his son sufficiently for his cruelty." "Anders himself was present, but he only laughed at Olle when he kicked the monkey." "Hem," said the pastor. "We will put this affair aside. But why were you not here on time, and not make Maurits and me wait for you?" "I didn't know what the time was. ' "A poor excuse, boy. You might have come home to see. " "I wanted to see the monkey. He was so amusing, and had on a pretty little frock, just like yours." "Hm, hm," said the pastor, "my frock is certainly old, but it does not cover the back of a monkey. Have you learned your lesson?" "Yes, fairly well." "Very well, let us hear it. If you can't recite it, you shall stand in the dunce's corner, as 1 promised you." The lessons were now heard, and it was found that Maurits was perfect in his, while Oscar stumbled con- tinually, in consequence of which he was placed in the corner, as had been threatened, while the pastor instructed Maurits in Latin. THE PUPIL 83 At the conclusion of the exercises, Maurits returned to his mother, carrying the pastor's old coat upon his arm. CHAPTER V THE PORCELAIN CUPS A few days had passed, but Mrs. Sterner had not yet recovered. On the contrary, she was weaker, though she would not confess it to her son. The lat- ter went every evening to the forest and brought wood, so that the occupants of the hut were kept from suffer- ing cold. There was, however, another visitor, pale and terrible, that approached nearer and nearer, and this visitor was hunger. For a whole day they had subsisted upon a single bit of hard bread and a few potatoes. In vain Maurits pleaded with his mother to allow him to lay their condition before the good pastor and request his assistance. "No, my son," said the mother feebly, "yo.ur teacher is poor and has many mouths to feed. We must not add to his burdens more than we have already done." "But you will die, mother," urged the boy mournful- ly, "if you do not get some strengthening food. You appear very ill to-day." "My boy," said Mrs. Sterner, "there is yet a means left us to procure food." "What is it, mamma?" "We must sell the two porcelain cups. They are very valuable, and we may, perhaps, get several riks- dollars for them." "The two cups that are so precious to you, mamma, 84 THE PORCELAIN CUPS 85 and that you received from my father?" exclaimed the boy. "We must not sell them." "Yes, Maurits, there is no other recourse. Those cups are very precious to me, God knows!" added the poor woman with a sigh. "Many memories cling to them, sweet, holy and peaceful, but we must put them aside, my son. We should teach ourselves to bear everything if God so wills it." "But, mamma," resumed Maurits, "you said you had a little sum of money laid aside on my account. Can \ve not take a part of it and use it to buy bread and meat? We should not sell your cups while we have other means at hand. " "No, Maurits, that money shall never be touched until you need it," answered Mrs. Sterner emphatic- ally. "I am fully determined to save this money un- til then. If I should once break into it, I may be tempted to do so again and again, until nothing re- mains. We must, therefore, do as I have suggested. You shall yourself sell the cups, little boy." "And to whom shall I sell them/' asked Maurits. "Shall I take them to Odensvik?" "It is not worth while, Maurits. The owner of the estate is not at home, and the steward will surely not buy such articles. But a quarter of a mile from here lies, as you know, the large estate of Liljedahl. Have you ever been there?" "No, mamma." "Well, that does not matter. At Liljedahl lives at present an old, very old, baron named Ehrenstam. He is good and kind, though he is every inch an aris- tocrat. " "Aristocrat! What is that, mamma?" interrupted Maurits, 86 THE PLAY OF FATE "Do you not know? Very well, I will explain it to you another time. "Listen further. This old baron is a great lover of elegant articles of art, whereof he has a beautiful col- lection; but he has nothing like these cups, for they are of the very finest East India porcelain, and if we were not in such needy circumstances, we might set a high price upon them; but now we must be content with what he will give you. You shall take the cups, go to Liljedahl and offer them to the baron. He will understand what they are." "And how much shall I ask for them, mamrna?" "They are worth a large sum, my son, but you may not ask more than four riks-dollars, and if he will not give that, you must take what he offers." "Very well, mamma, I'll do as you say." "Give me the cups first, my son. I will see them yet once more." Maurits went to the shelf where the household articles were kept, took the tea-cups care- fully therefrom, and carried them to the sick mother. Mrs. Sterner, with tears in her eyes, took one of them in her hand, pressed its edge against her pale lips, and smiled sorrowfully. "Farewell! You dumb witness to a period of hap- piness now of the past," whispered she gently. "O, how many times have I not, before the blazing fireplace, adorned my tea-table with you, awaiting his coming. But that is gone now, forever gone. Must I then, without a murmur, offer the last me- mento of a time that has fled?" Mrs. Sterner returned the cup to Maurits, who took it and laid it, with the other, in a basket. "Go, now, my boy," said Mrs. Sterner; "ask to see the baron himself, for there is no other in the house THE PORCELAIN CUPS 87 who will understand the value of your wares. You know the way there?" 'Oh, yes, mamma, Liljedahl is that large stone house that lies on the point jutting out into the lake and is reached by a long avenue leading from the highway. " "Yes. my boy." "Good! I am off then. Good-bye, mamma!" Maurits took his little bundle and departed. Mrs. Sterner cast a long, sorrowful look after him. "Poor child," sighed she, "he must sell a pair of tea-cups in order to procure bread for himself and mother, and notwithstanding if I will but, no, that were a crime. I am not yet released from my promise. I must empty the bitter chalice to the bottom without complaint, for the despised gardener's daughter shall not present herself, through her son, to claim a por- tion of the heritage. It is my son who shall choose, when he has reached the designated age: choose whether he wishes riches and idleness, or a meager in- come acquired by his own efforts. Was not that your wish, my dear husband? And that poor, that deserted being whom you took up, educated and loved, shall she stand in its way? Never!" The woman sank into deep thought. Meantime, Maurits, with his burden in his hands, had pursued his way along the thoroughfare until he neared the entrance to the avenue which led to the great mansion of Liljedahl. Here he turned in to the left and followed the broad and beautiful avenue, whose spreading trees were already yellow, tinged with autumn frosts, though their leaves had not yet fallen. Arriving at the mansion he made his way up a stairs 88 THE PLAY OF FATE at one end of the building, something within telling him they led to the kitchen, which proved to be cor- rect. The little boy opened the door and entered a large room where various domestics were engaged with the preparation of the mid-day meal, for it was already nearly one o'clock. By the activity and bustle that prevailed among the servants, and the great quantities of food in course of preparation, Maurits concluded that a great dinner was on hand. At thought of this he trembled with fear lest he should be driven away without opportunity to show his cups to the baron. But taking courage, he addressed an aged woman, clad in more genteel attire than the others, whom he recognized as the housekeeper. "My good lady," said the boy with trembling voice, "do you think I rnay speak a few words with the old baron? " "Speak with the old baron," exclaimed the woman in surprise; "and what business have you with him, you little brat?" "I have something I would sell him." "What is it?" said the housekeeper laughing. "May- be you want to sell the baron some butter. Ha, ha ! You are a funny boy!" "It is not butter, my lady," answered Maurits de- jectedly. "It is something quite different.' "What is it, then?" "It is two very beautiful tea cups. But mamma, who is ill, has commanded me to sell them to tne baron, that we may get money with which to buy food." "My dear child," said the housekeeper, with a shrug of the shoulders, "how can you expect the baron to THE PORCELAIN CUPS 89 buy a pair of -tea cups while we have an abundance of them in the house? " "I do not doubt that, but these are of an uncom- mon qualit)', and my mother said that the baron would fancy them. They are genuine East India porcelain, mother says. " "Let me see the cups, my boy," said the house- keeper, who was naturally a tender-hearted body, and pitied the poor child. "They are indeed, beautiful," said the woman, with an approving giance; "how much do you ask for them? " "Four riks -dollars, my mother will have. She said they were worth much more, but we are so poor that we must content ourselves with what is given us." "Four riks-dollars for two tea-cups!" exclaimed the housekeeper, "that is preposterous. Your mother must be a little out of her head." "Mamma is poor and has nothing to eat," replied M uirits, ready to cry, "but she is, nevertheless, quite as clear-headed as any other." "What is your name, my boy?" "Maurits Sterner. " "Ah, you are, then, the son of the poor seamstress who lives near the village. And is that poor creature ill? She is at least obliging and industrious, and sews very nicely. I must give her so much praise, for she has sewed many garments for me." "Well, then, my good lady, you will prepare the way for me to meet the baron? " "That is impossible, my boy, for we are to have & great many people to dinner, and the baron is dress- ing. Besides, he has, for several days, had strangers from Stockholm. But f am sorry for you and your QO THE PLAY OF FATE good mother; wherefore, I will send a little good food by you, and when that is gone, return and get more, until your mother is able to work again." "You are very kind," said the boy with feeling, "but mamma has once for all forbidden me to take alms- She will not beg, she says, but will support herself with her work. " "That is quite right of your mother, so long as she is well, but when she is ill and can't work, she must then submit, as others do, to being helped. There is no disgrace in it. Tell your mother so." "I may not sell my cups, then?" continued Maurits in d'stress. "If you were not so dear, maybe I would buy them, but now " "What is the matter?" was heard in a woman's voice from behind the two in conversation. "Ah, see, Miss Louise," said the housekeeper to a lively and pretty waiting-maid who had just entered the kitchen from an adjoining room, "here is a boy who wishes to sell a pair of tea cups. Do you wish to buy them?" "What is the price?" inquired the girl, approaching. "He asks four riks-dollars for them." "Four riks-dollars! A very moderate sum, indeed; but they are very beautiful. Perhaps my mistress will buy them. She has a weakness for porcelain." "Well, take the boy with you to her," commanded the housekeeper. "I am very sorry for the child. He has a poor, sick mother, and will not, withal, accept a little food offered him. His mother is too proud to beg, he thinks." "Come with me, my little friend," said the pretty maid. "I'll try to find a purchaser for you, if you are THE PORCELAIN CUPS 9 1 not too dear;' otherwise I fear my mistress will give you what you deserve. She belongs to those who count their pennies," added she, laughing, "but we can try, nevertheless. " Maurits returned his cups to the basket, and fol- lowed the maid up a broad stairway of cut stone, which connected with the upper apartments of that beautiful, palatial house. The girl conducted him through a long corridor, at one end of which she paused before a door. "Remain here, my boy," said she. "I will go in and ask if my lady will receive you." She opened the door and disappeared, leaving Maurits anxiously awaiting her return. She soon came back and beckoned the boy to enter. Maurits obeyed, but his little heart beat heavily with apprehension. Everything seemed to him so large, so grand and lordly that he trembled when he set his foot upon the costly carpet with which the floor of the room was covered. "Here is the boy, my lady," announced the maid. Maurits lifted his eyes and looked about him. The following picture was presented to his view: Upon a magnificent divan, upholstered with silk and adorned with a fringe of gold, sat a lady of perhaps thirty years of age, possessing a beautiful but almost expressionless face, if we except a touch of haughty arrogance around her lips. Her figure was quite plump, though not to excess. To Balzac she would have been a "femme de trente ans." The haughty dame was clad in a costly toilet. She wore a dress of gray silk and a genuine cashmere shawl covered her shoul- ders. .On an ottoman at her feet sat a little girl who ap- 92 THE PLAY OF PATE peareu to be in the neighborhood of four years. The child's face was surpassingly beautiful, and her nut- brown eyes sparkled with an unusual liveliness. In an easy-chair opposite the divan, was a young man of seemingly more than ordinary intelligence. He was resting one hand upon a console, supporting a display of costly vases, while with the other he held a book, which he seemed to have just ceased reading. Around the floor ran a little six year-old boy, wav- ing in the air an elegant child's sword. . When Maurits raised his eyes from the floor and cast a glance at the several persons, he was reminded of the traveling gentleman who treated him so ill when on his way home with his bundle of sticks. "It must be the same," thought he, with a feeling of alarm. "The little boy who struck me with his whip, the lady with the child on her lap, the kind gentleman who upbraided the boy all are here except the severe gentleman who called me a thief. But perhaps he too will come." With these thoughts Maurits was so possessed by fear that his legs almost refused to support him. "How is it, my boy?" said the lady on the sofa, listlessly; "you have something to sell, I am told." "Yes, my lady," answered Maurits, supporting him- self against the door-post, "I have a pair of beautiful tea-cups that I would ask your ladyship to buy. "Let me see them," said the lady rising. "Set them upon the stand there." Maurits breathed again. "God be praised! She has not recognized me," thought he. He stepped forward to the console, opened his bas- ket, and placed his tea-cups on exhibition. "They are indeed genuine East India porcelain," THE PORCELAIN CUPS 93 muttered the lady to herself, as she approvingly held one up to the light. "I must have them." 'Hear me," she continued aloud. "What do you ask for them? " The boy named his price. "Four riks-dollars!" cried she. "That is entirely beyond reason." "But my mamma said " "A fig for what your mother said," interrupted the woman impatiently. "Short and sweet, if you will take one riks-dollar for the pair, the bargain is made." It was wealth haggling with poverty. The lady knew very well that the articles were worth much more than the poor boy demanded, but she thought of noth- ing other than how to profit by his needy circum- stances. "For," thought she, "he will certainly take what I offer, if I stick to it." "Well, will you take two riks-dollars for the pair?" "Two riks dollars, my good lady," said he, "is not enough to procure food for my poor mother during her illness. I dare not take less than my first price." "Then take your cups and be off with you!" shouted the lady harshly. "I have offered you more than they are worth. " Maurits took the cup from her and was about to return it to his basket when the lady appeared to be on the point of changing her mind. "Hear me, boy," cried she suddenly. "I will give you three riks-dollars. Are you satisfied with that?" "Not less than four," answered Maurits, whose cour- age was increased by an encouraging glance from the gentleman holding the book. "If you do not take what mamma offers you, I'll run you through with my sword," shouted the little I 94 THF. PI. AY OF FATE son, flourishing his weapon before Maurits' face. "George! George! stop that!" broke forth the aforementioned gentleman. George, however, paid no attention to the command, but lunging at Maurits hit him full on the arm. Maurits was not wounded, but, overcome with fear, the cup in his hand slipped from his grasp, struck the edge of a marble table, and fell in a thousand pieces to the floor. "George!" shouted the gentleman, grasping the child by the arm, "George, you ought to be ashamed to so abuse a poor boy who never did you an injury." "Dear Magister, let him go," said the lady with haughty coldness. "That is a mere bagatelle. Why should one make so much noise about a trifle?" The young man sighed and released George's arm, while Maurits, with tears in his eyes, contemplated the remains of his mother's last possessions lying scattered upon the costly carpet. At this instant, the door was thrown forcibly open and an elegantly attired gentleman, bearing an order upon his breast, entered the room. "It is time for us to repair to the hall," said he, as soon as he set his foot upon the threshold. "The guests are already beginning to arrive. Are you ready? " The voice caused Maurits to tremble. He lifted his eyes slowly and cast a timid glance at the speak- er. He recognized the same hard and scornful feat- ures that had once before caused him such terror. The great man's glance fell upon the boy, where- upon he frowned and inquired with vehemence: "What is this boy doing here? Do you invite beggar young ones to your cabinet, Cecilia?" THE PORCELAIN CUPS 95 "Forgive me, my friend," replied the woman apolo- getically, "I have been bargaining with him for a pair of East India tea-cups." "A pair of East India tea-cups! " interrupted the baron, shrugging his shoulders, "what nonsense is this? Be off with you, sir," continued he, turning to Maurits, "or I'll box your ears." Weeping, the boy took the remaining cup, laid it in the basket with the saucer, cast a sorrowful glance at the pieces of the other lying on the floor, and ap- proached the door. r 'Herr Baron," spoke the young man holding the book, "I feel that I ought to call your attention to the fact that George, in an ill temper, broke in pieces one of the poor boy's cups, and I submit to you whether he ought not to receive some compensation." "Ah, so," said the baron; "give him a few shillings and let him go. Wait, boy." Maurits paused. "See here, George, " said the baron to his son, at the same time handing him some change, "give this to the little beggar, my boy." "But, my lord," remonstrated the master, "the cup was worth at the least three riks-dollars, for it was genuine. " """ Nonsense! Three riks dollars for a tea-cup! Are you mad? Do as I say, George, and then get you gone," added he, turning to Maurits. George advanced to the beggar boy - as the baron denominated all children of poor people, or all who were poorly clad and in a haughty manner extended toward him the change his father had given him. Maurits thrust the little tyrant's hand vigorously from him, opened the door and rushed out into the corr ^or, his heart bleeding with pain and indignation. 96 THE PLAY OF FATE Weeping, the boy hastened down the grand stair- way and neared the door opening on to the garden. Here he witnessed one carriage after another drive up to the large stairway supported by Doric pillars, lead- ing to the porch. Two servants in livery stood on the threshold bowing and receiving the guests, while another threw open the large double folding doors to the hall, and, in a loud voice, announced the new comer. Just as poor Maurits, still in tears over the unmerited treatment he had a second time experienced at the hands of the baron and his family, reached the door to the porch, a magnificent landau, drawn by four Arabian steeds, halted in front. Frightened, the boy concealed himself between the door and the wall, at the same time peeping curiously through the crack to get a. glimpse of the elegant gentry, who, without doubt, occupied the magnificent equipage. But no, only one person alighted and entered, fol- lowed by the bowing servants in the porch. This person was a young man, twenty-three or twen- ty-four years of age, perhaps. His features were regu- lar and handsome; a head of black curly hair shaded a strikingly white forehead, and the large nut-brown eyes glowed with an unusual fire. But over the whole lay an expression of sadness, of darkness, of night, if we may be allowed to use the term, and a face whose deathly pallor made one think of the fallen archangel as painted in Milton's "Paradise Lost." It was plain to be seen in those tightly drawn lips that they were unaccustomed to smile, and the gloomy fire that burned in those eyes seemed to have no affin- ity with the kingdom of light. THE PORCELAIN CUPS 97 The young man, clad wholly in black, except his vest which was a dazzling white, passed through the porch, and entered the hall doors, flung open for him by the attendant servant. Maurits heard the latter announce with a loud voice: "Count Stjernekrantz of Odensvik. " The doors close. "Count Stjernekrantz," thought Maurits with sur- prise. "He has then returned home from his travels. I did not know that." The whole of this scene had taken place in a few seconds. As soon as the count's stately carriage had left the steps, Maurits crept out through the doorway, and hastened across the yard as fast as his legs could carry him. He had already reached the gate, and was on the point of passing out into the avenue when he heard a voice call: ''Halt! boy, I wish to speak with you." Maurits turned around. The man he had seen in the lady's cabinet with the book, the same who had encouraged him by his looks during the bargaining for the tea-cups, the man for whom the little boy al- ready felt the liveliest attachment and gratitude, ap- proached him with swift paces. "My little friend," said the young man, arriving at Maurits' side, "come a few steps to one side, I have something to say to you." Maurits followed in silence to a wing of the mansion whose porch they entered. "My boy," said the unknown, "they have done you great injustice up there, great injustice. I deem it proper to acknowledge as much." "Thank you, sir," said the boy sobbing, "you must also be poor since you are so kind." 98 THE PLAY OF FATE "I am not rich, my friend," resumed the stranger, a melancholy smile flitting over his noble and soulful countenance. "But that is not in question. You asked four riks-dollars for your tea cups, is that not so?" 'Yes, sir." "They are worth double that sum, for they are of rare quality. I will therefore buy the remaining one and give you what you asked for the two." "Will you truly do so, good sir?" cried Maurits with joy. ' May God bless you! My poor mother need not, then, die of hunger." "No, no, that shall not be," resumed the young man, much moved. "Give here your wares and take your money. " Maurits unfolded the handkerchief, and handed the remaining cup to his generous companion, who, taking from his pocket a purse, counted out and passed over to Maurits the four riks-dollars, after which he called to a passing servant and bade him take the cup to the kitchen. "Farewell, my boy," continued he, turning to Maurits; "if I can do anything for you or your mother, come to me another day." "Dare I now ask a favor?" asked Maurits. "What is it?" "May I know your name?" "What would that avail you?" "I can then pray to God for you," answered the boy with apparent piety; "and, too, I would know the name of him who has saved my mother from death " "Tell me first, what is your name, my child?" in- quired the young man, deeply moved by the boy's piety and gratefulness. THE PORCELAIN CUPS 9Q Maurits told him his name. "Very well, my name is Magister Holmer. " "Magister Holmer; I shall never forget it. Thank you, sir." The tutor pressed the poor boy's hand and turned toward the principal building. With light step and joyous heart, Maurits hastened home to the wretched hut. His commission had ter- minated in unexpected good fortune. He had his four riks-dollars in his hand. "Now mamma shall have some warm soup," was the thought that gave him new life. We must not think ill of the poor boy if, after the remarkable adventures of the day, he busied himself on the way home with some not altogether pleasant comparisons. CHAPTER VI JACOB KRON The day for the meeting with the red-head had ar- rived. Maurits returned from his lesson at Pastor Bergholm's at four o'clock in the afternoon. There was thus yet an hour before the appointed time. He had not mentioned the matter of this appoint- ment to his mother, knowing that she would surely forbid his going, and he would not have disobeyed her. He, therefore, said nothing, but deliberated long whether he ought to or not. On the one hand, his conscience told him that he was doing wrong if he did anything contrary to his mother's wishes, a wish that he had always been ac- customed to regard as the highest law. But, on the other hand, he felt an irresistible desire to again meet this being. His curiosity was further augmented by the recollection that only a few days before he had seen the young man in the garb of an old one, wan- dering around the village with an organ and a monke) r , and he longed to unravel the puzzling circumstance. Besides, a deep interest and an indescribable s}'mpathy impelled him to the meeting. "This red head," thought he, "is poor, deserted and unhappy, as I am. He is a pitiable wanderer, for he has no one to love him, while I have my mother. Why should I not go to him as he bade me? And, moreover, he has been perse- cuted and abused by the rich, as I have been, only much worse. I should very much wish to know the 100 JACOB KRON IOI circumstances that drove him from school, which he says he attended as a child, and what sent him alone into the world. " So thought Maurits, and he determined, as a result thereof, to go to the forest at the usual hour to fetch wood, and at the same time visit the murdered man's grave, which, the reader will remember, was the ap- pointed meeting-place. What more than anything else determined him, was the recollection of the sympathy and kindness Jacob Kron had shown him when they met before in the forest. No one could possess a heart more sensitive to manifestations of benevolence than Maurits. He felt it a duty to love, and every one who showed him any kindness was assured of his gratitude. He possessed thus a rich fund of love by nature. If in the future he comes to hate, it is not his fault, but that of mankind or of fate. Upon the four riks-dollars, received by Maurits from the generous young man who bought his tea-cup, the little family had subsisted during the intervening days. Mrs. Sterner had gained much in strength from hav- ing received nourishing food, and also from Pastor Bergholm's remedies. She could now work again a few hours daily, and hoped to be able to complete a dozen shirts for the steward of Odensvik, for which she ex- pected to receive several rix dollars compensation. The little family's greatest needs were thus provided for, and it was by no means Maurits' intention to re- mind Jacob of his promise to help them. It was no selfish motive, then, but only curiosity and interest that impelled him to go to the appointed meeting. The hour was finally approaching five. Maurits put IO2 THE PLAY OF FATE on his coat which his mother had made from that given him by Pastor Bergholm. With this garment he was reasonably well shielded from the rain and cold. "I am going after wood, now, mother," said the boy. "If I should be absent a little longer than usual do not worry. ' "And why should you be away longer than usual?" asked Mrs. Sterner. "It is beautiful weather this evening, mother," an- swered Maurits, somewhat embarrassed, for he was not accustomed to prevaricating, "and I will, therefore, search for some plants. The pastor has promised to begin with a little botany if I am willing." This was quite true, for Pastor Bergholm had sug- gested to-his pupil that he bring some flowers and plants, and he would begin to teach him the first prin- ciples of botany. "Good, my dear boy," said Mrs. Sterner, who did not observe her son's perplexity. "Look up your plants, but don't stay too long; you know that I am always uneasy when you are absent." Maurits departed. It was, as he had said, a beau- tiful autumn evening. The sun was well in the west, but it had not yet begun to grow dark. Besides, it was full moon, and the boy need not fear the darkness as before. When he reached the stone-heap, the red-head, as Maurits had named him, had not yet arrived. He went, therefore, a few steps into the forest and gathered his little load, after which he plucked as many flowers and plants as he could hastily find, in order that his mother should not mistrust him when he returned home. While thus employed, he heard a hasty step on the JACOB KRON 103 roadway. He ran back to the meeting place, and ob- served the red-headed man coming from the same di- rection as before. He was now clad in the same garb as then. His attire was very ragged, which, in con- nection with his red hair and beard and the wild ex- pression in his face, gave him an almost frightful aspect. This did not disturb Maurits, for he knew that Jacob was a kind man, and, besides, he was un- der obligations to him for the help rendered upon his former visit to the place. Jacob Kron at once perceived the boy, and, turning from the road, climbed the stone- heap, toward the top of which Maurits also clambered from the opposite side, after laying his bundle down at the edge of the forest. "Good, my boy," said Jacob, patting him upon the shoulder. "I see you are punctual. We will now talk a few minutes, for I am very much interested in you. But first, how is your mother?" "Mamma is much better," Maurits hastened to assure him. "She can now work again, and we have, besides, received help in our trouble, so that we have got along nicely. I am, therefore, not come to ap- peal to you for the aid so kindly proffered at our last meeting, but only to hear what you have to say to me. ' "So much the better, my dear Maurits," resumed Jacob. 'Let us go down toward the edge of the wood. There we shall not be seen nor heard if perchance some one should pass by on the road." At this place they were shielded from the way- farer's observation. Neither could their conversation be overheard, even if listened for from the roadside, which was not likely to happen. 104 THE PLAY OF FATE "Tell me first," began Maurits, "how it came about that a few days ago you were an old man going about with an organ, and how is it that you are here quite a young man again. Were you in disguise?" "Yes, my boy. I found an old organ-grinder lying sick in a hut about a mile from here. The man could not earn anything with his organ, being sick. I offered, therefore, to go with it in his stead, the pro- ceeds to be divided equally. The project pleased him, and so you now understand it." "But why did you need to disguise yourself?" "Partly because I wished to avoid being recognized, and partly because an old man can awake more sym- pathy than a young one. I procured for myself, also, a false beard and an old gray wig, then went to the different mansions where I played and allowed my monkey to dance for the children. I received quite a sum of money which I divided with the owner of the organ. It was, certainly, a sort of deception, but it is no sin to deceive the rich into helping the poor." "Do you think so? ' said Maurits thoughtfully. ''Mamma says that any kind of deception is a great sin." "Yes, your mother says so, because she, perhaps, does not understand all the deceptions, all the cruelty and baseness the rich practice against us. If I should relate to you the history of my life, you would find that all the revenge I can take upon the rich is both right and well merited." "Tell me your life history!" cried Maurits eagerly. "There is something about you that says you have been very unfortunate, and I feel, therefore, the deepest compassion for you. But you, why are you interested in me?" JACOB KRON 105 "Because your fate resembles mine, although, let us hope, it will have a more agreeable unfolding. With me, fate has had her play, and has played cruelly. " "My fate resembles yours, say you. Why so?" "Because you are a poor, uncared-for child, as I have been; because you have only a mother to love, to ad- mire, to worship as I had; because you are, no doubt, as 1, a child of sin, abandoned to wind and wave by some rich man. Therefore I love you, therefore I will relate to you a portion of my history as a warning, a terrible warning. You are young, credulous and weak. I will make you incredulous and strong, my friend, provided that you wish to escape the misfortunes that have befallen me. I believe I shall do you a service with the narration." "Do you think so?" asked Maurits with some mis- giving. "Yes; know, my boy, that there are two powers rul- ing the world, the good and the evil. Their ways run parallel the one reaches quite as far as the other. You know little about any other than the good. I will make you acquainted with the evil." "And wherefore?" interrupted the boy. "When I say I will make you acquainted with the evil, I do not mean that I shall do you harm. I could find no warrant for that. But you understand well that if one travels a rocky road, as life's road is, he ought to have a guide, who not alone tells one where he may go without danger, but points out the dangers which he should avoid." "Yes," said Maurits, "I understand what you mean." "Well, then, I will be your guide. I will show you the chasms on your way of which you have till now I06 THE PLAY OF FATE been ignorant. You shall know that upon life's way there are chasms, deep and terrible." "You know them, ' said the little boy with a shud- der. "Yes, I know them, my child," resumed the man, while a bitter smile flitted over his countenance, "they have swallowed me up." Jacob was silent for an instant. The dusk had be- gun to spread, and the moon, already in the firma- ment, cast her silver rays between the trunks of the forest. From a near pine tree came the lament of the thrush, the nightingale of the north, whom the Octo- ber winds had not yet driven away. Except the autumn wind sighing through the forest, no other sound was heard. Jacob had hidden his face in his hands, and ap . peared to be buried in bitter memories. At his side sat the child, looking up with wonder and interest to that strange teacher in rags. It was indeed a singu- lar contrast. That gloomy, wild-looking man, ravaged by passions, by mental and physical suffering, and by his side the child, still unacquainted with the world and its evils, listening with engrossed attention, with lively interest, to the ragamuffin who had already gone through life's bitter school, and had ccme to initiate the boy' s credulous heart into its dangerous mysteries. " Mauri ts," said Jacob finally, "your mamma has taught you to believe in God. Is it not so?" "Yes." "Believe in him, boy. You do right therein. Be- lieve as long as you can in a gentle Providence that directs the course of mankind. I will not deprive you of that belief. You are happy in it. Even I have be- lieved Even I have been happy." JACOB KRON IO7 "Do you no longer believe in God?" asked the boy with a shudder. "My child," continued Jacob, "I said to you just now that there are two powers that rule the world, the good and the evil. But over these there is a third power, a power you call God, and which I name fate. " "Fate," repeated the boy tremblingly. "Yes, or chance if you will. Assume that we sin- cerely and earnestly place ourselves under the banner of the better power; assume that we struggle, surfer and bleed in the battle against the evil do you believe that victcry will always result? No, my child, I have tried it for many years. For many years I have fought against temptation, against want, against crime and misery. And do you think I have attained other than want, crime and misery? This because I was poor; be- cause I was defenseless against the persecutions, the infamies heaped upon me; for listen, my child, there is a power that can sometimes measure itself with fate, and that is gold. But gold nourishes desires, desires must be satisfied, and at whose expense, do you think? At that of the weak and poor, the defenseless. The rich therefore respect each other, and they gather in common their sacrifices from the ranks of the poor, and if the unfortunate one complains, he is silenced with gold or violence. " "Yes," said Maurits, who with growing interest heard these gloomy teachings. "Yes, you are right; they silence us with outrage, and tramp us under foot. I have myself recently been made to experience that." "When and what was the occasion?" Maurits gave an account of his mission to Liljedahl and how he had fared now a second time at the hands of the haughty family. IO8 THE PLAY OF FATE "Yes," burst forth Jacob Kron in great anger, "such are they, and one must not hate them, we are told hate them bitterly, deeply, eternally!" "I could have endured all else," said Maurits, "but I should never have believed that a boy so small as the baron's son could be so ugly." "Bah! that is nothing unusual; 'from Satan's eggs imps are bred,' the saying goes. As the father is so the son will be with his example before his eyes. He would better be careful or it will go with him as with the man murdered on this spot. He was also a baron." "Ugh! that was a terrible deed, a horrible crime!" "Yes, so says mankind, "resumed the red-head. "It was a horrible crime, they say, but who knows never- theless? There might be mitigating circumstances." "Do you then know something about the murder?" "No matter," interrupted Jacob vigorously. "Let us talk of other things. I promised to tell you some- thing of my past life." "Ah, yes!" cried Maurits. "Go on." "Hear then, and treasure in your mind what I sa) r . There may be much that you cannot comprehend now, some day you will understand it, perhaps. It will then bear fruit. I hope." "My father," began Jacob, after a few minutes' re- flection, "my father, or more correctly, he whom I regarded in my childhood as my father, was a poor laborer in a small city of Westergothland. He had been a soldier, and was named Kron in the army, which name he retained even after leaving the service. The laborer Kron was already fifty years old when he took the foolish crotchet to marry a young and beauti- ful girl whose parents had died a short time before in the utmost poverty. Kron pitied the girl, and, besides, JACOB KRON ICQ being a simple hearted fellow, he was easily infatuated by her beautiful eyes. He was also poor, but had a home to which he could take his bride, and a crust to share with her. Two years after the union, I saw the light. The neighbors gossiped and conjectured that I was not the son of Kron." "That you were not your father's son!" interrupted the boy in surprise. "What do you mean?" "This is one of the things alluded to that you do not yet understand, my child. It is as well; store it in your memory. "Our neighbors declared me illegitimate, but my father did not believe them. He paid no heed to their prattle, but loved me as dearly as if no doubt had ever been expressed about my legitimacy. My father lived in a little city in which there was a pri- mary school. He early inclined me toward study, hoping sometime to see me a priest. So, in good time, I was sent to school, some generous residents of the city contributing a sum of money sufficient to equip me with the necessary clothes, books, etc. I was very apt, and soon won favor with nearly all of my teachers. I say nearly all, but there was one among them who could never tolerate me. I do not to this hour know the wherefor. I had already progressed to the fourth class, in whose lower division I stood primus. My progress in my studies had been rapid, surprisingly so. I had absolved Cornelius, read Ovid's Metamorphoses, and in the Greek, the lighter of Xenophon's writings. The French and German lan- guages I had learned without a master, and was, be- sides, looked upon as the ablest among my fellows in geography, history and mathematics. I was but thir- teen years old at this time. My prospects were thus IIO THE PLAY OF FATE good, and, whenever I visited my parents, who had moved a little distance out of town, my good mother wept tears of joy, and my father patted me on the shoulders and said: 'You will surely be an able priest in time.' "My father was a mason. One day while working for a rich man, he fell from a height and his head was crushed upon the street pavement. He died on the spot, of course. My poor mother, who was very sickly, had now nothing upon which to subsist, and no means of supporting us; in consequence of this she was taken to the city's poor-house a miserable den lying some distance from the city, opposite the whipping-post. Probably, to remind the inmates that poverty and crime go hand in hand, as do riches and depravity. "I remember how often I sat at the bedside of m)' idolized mother, in that dark, damp hovel where she was confined. There the poor woman lay upon a bundle of rotten straw, covered with a ragged blanket which barely shielded her wasting limbs. I sat by her side and consoled her with the hope, the rich hope, that I read from the psalm-book and Bible for her, and her pain was assuaged when she heard my voice. I was her all on earth. I would some day break for myself an honorable path, she believed, when I could come and take her from the poor-house to my own residence and then, then we should never again be separated. Such were the plans we perfected together. About this time, an event took place that gave my destiny another direction, that crushed my hopes and dissipated all my dreams. Until this I had been fed, from day to day, at the tables of some of the principal people of the place and had thus fared very well. Much kindness was shown me, and my young heart was grateful therefor. JACOB KRON III "In the same class with myself there was a fourteen- year-old boy, son of a rich nobleman. He was very lazy and ignorant, but he held himself, nevertheless, high above his comrades, in which he was encouraged by some of the teachers, anxious, even at the expense of the other pupils, and the sacrifice of justice, to stand well in the regard of the rich. For this reason, he was an object of general hate, for a child who has not yet been corrupted by contact with the world will, without affectation show his displeasure with anything that partakes of partiality. The little baron, as he was called by the teachers, from the first had a jealous eye on me because of my progress in study, and the favor with which I was regarded by some of the learned and liberal-minded professors. Badly reared, as are most of the aristocracy's degenerate brood, he availed himself of every opportunity that presented to degrade me in the opinion of my teachers, at whose houses he was often a guest. Besides this, I was many times selected as the target of his slanderous tongue. 'Para- site,' was an expression often made use of by him, by reason of my being fed at different houses. He car- ried the thing even to scoffing at my patched panta- loons, my coarse shoes, and more than all at my red hair. All this I endured with calmness, for I had the sympathy of all the others of my comrades, and could, therefore, afford to pay no attention to his abuse. "But once, it was about Christmas time, he hurled his insults at my poor mother, asserting that I was a bastard. I could no longer control my anger. I struck the baron such a blow that he tumbled end over end, changing his tune very suddenly. That the son of a coarse laborer should dare to strike a baron was a crimen hcsic majcstatis, and must not escape its merited 112 THE PLAY OF FATE chastisement. Howling with rage, he rushed to the teacher whom he knew to be my enemy, and com- plained bitterly at the affront that had been offered his baronial blood. "Magister Wengelin, such was the teacher's name, had recently become rector of the school and had thus the most to say. He was a very malicious and un- reasonable man, feared and hated more than the devil by all his pupils. Among other things it was related about him that it was his custom to sit a whole night through at the tavern engaged in high play with some of the most disreputable residents of the town. The game, many times, did not cease until seven o'clock in the morning, the hour for the beginning of our exer- cises; and the teacher's frame of mind upon, reaching the class-room may be imagined, especially if he had been the loser of any considerable sum during the night. He was not a pleasant one to meet at such times, and the boys soon learned to know whether he had been lucky or a loser. If the former, he was in a comfortable state of mind, and slept most of the day in his chair. If he had lost, he spent his anger upon the innocent school-boys, and frightened them, if not otherwise, with his glance, which was like that cf an enraged animal. "'Magister Wengelin was in bad luck last night,' was a standard expression among the boys, with the significance, 'Look out for the rod!' It was to this monster that the young seedling of a baron made com- plaint at his mishap. He had met him after a night of ill luck, and in just the state of mind that I have described as usual on such occasions, and he at once swore to knock the arms and legs off the 'vulgar ras- cal.' I was fortunately warned in good time. JACOB KRON 113 "Before Magister Wengelin's class hour, one of my comrades, who was my friend, rushed in from the street, grasped me by the arm, and cried out: 'Jacob. Wengelin has played at a losing game, and the baron's whelp has complained against you. They are walking together in the street. You are lost. Wengelin has a terrible look in his eyes, and has his Spanish cane in his hand.' An indescribable dread took possession of me Already the teacher's heavy steps were heard in the corridor near the school-room. In less than a minute I should be face to face with the terror. What was to be done? I pushed the window up quickly, and jumped out to the ground at the instant that Magister 'AVengelin entered the door. Fear gave me wings. I ran to the poor house as if pursued by an evil spirit^ and concealed myself. I am safe here, thought I; they will not dare to drag me from the bedside of my sick mother. "But so it happened, nevertheless. The Magister, furious at my escape, sent the school doorkeeper after me, and commanded him, repeating his words, 'Bring him dead or alive, but bring him.' At the coming of the doorkeeper, I crept, in my fright, under my mother's bed. It did not avail me. I was dragged forth, and to school, where the master was awaiting me, stick in hand. "I attempted to justify myself. I tried to speak of the insult I myself had suffered, but it was to no pur_ pose. The teacher would not listen to my defense. Nothing short of a flogging would content him. 'None of your reasonings, boy,' he roared in thundering tones. 'If you do not at once hush, I'll flog you to death.' I kept my peace and swallowed my tears, determined to conduct myself brave!}', and boldly returned the teach- 114 THE PLAY OF FATE er's angry frowns. This augmented his rage, He rushed upon me and began to lash me unmercifully. "During the punishment, which lasted a consider- able time, not a word did I utter, neither did I make an outcry, nor ask for mercy. The blood streamed from my wounds, but I bit my lips and remained silent until, finally exhausted, the barbarian ceased, and I resumed my place, a dreadful silence prevailing throughout the room." "That day was the beginning of all my misfortunes. Upon that day I began to understand the meaning of hate. Magister Wengelin gave me the first lesson therein, "Some days after this occurrence, the young baron was set upon in the streets and severely beaten by several of my comrades, who, like myself, had a grudge against him. The perpetrators were never discovered. Suspicion fell upon me, and though I was wholly guilt- less, it was in vain that I protested my innocence. "In the schools and gymnasiums of those days, the teachers were autocrats. They were judges, prosecutors and executioners from whose sentence there was no appeal. "As I have said, I protested my innocence, but ap_ pearances were against me; and, in the end, I was ex- pelled from the school." "More! teli me more!" cried Maurits, deeply inter- ested in the mournful childhood history. "More, yes," Jacob burst forth, dragging himself from his gloomy thoughts. "You wish to hear more, do you, my boy?" "Yes, by all means," urged Maurits eagerly. "But I tell you that what follows is dreadful." "No matter; I will hear it," JACOB KRON 115 "Very well, listen, then. "My mother, who was already suffering from a severe lung trouble, was completely crushed by the announce- ment of my misfortune. All her hopes vanished. Her dreams of a future change in her fate through me, dis- appeared like smoke at the instant I was expelled from school. She could not survive the blow. Before long I stood weeping at the side of her death-bed within the wretched poor-house. "'Child,' said my mother, battling with death, 'I have a secret to intrust to you. Come nearer to me and listen.' "'Jacob, you are not the son of the laborer, Kron. Your father is rich and a man of distinction. You must find him you must ask him for assistance in your great need, pocr child. 'Who, then, is my father!' I cried, when my mother ceased speaking. 'Tell me his name before you die!' "With faltering voice my mother spoke a name. "I stood as one petrified It was the name borne by the boy who had been the cause of my expulsion from school." ''It was then your brother! ' interrupted Maurits terrified, for he began to see all the horrors of the narration. "It was then your brother! O, it is dread- ful!" "The play of fate!" muttered Jacob between his teeth. "Yes, 1 continued he, again addressing Maurits. "Yes, it was my brother who laid the foundation to my misfortunes '' "More, more!" cried Maurits. Jacob continued: "'Jacob,' said my mother, when I made no answer, Il6 THE PLAY OF FATE 'your father is a very rich man, and, though harsh and severe, he must certainty be moved to compassion if you show him this.' With these words, my mother drew from under the rotten straw pallet on which she was lying a small amber heart set in gold and attached to a black silk ribbon. "I contemplated with surprise the jewel of whose existence I had hitherto been entirely ignorant. "'Jacob,' continued my mother with difficulty, 'this amber heart I received from your father. He sent it as a memento of his love, he said. After he had ac- complished his purpose, he allowed me to retain the jewel, but that was all that remained, for his own heart had become as hard as this. He went his way, and I have since never heard of him. But I know that he is an officer of high rank, that he is a widower and resides on an estate in Weslergothland.' "M) 1 mother gave me the name of the estate. "'O, what shall I say to him?'. I asked. "'Show him this heart,' resumed my mother, 'the ornament I have preserved through all my misery. He will recognize it readily, for here on the gold mount- ing are engraved two letters, I. and E., the initials of his deceased wife. "My mother handed me the jewel, and I concealed it carefully next to my breast. "'Mamma,' said I afterward, 'do you know whether my father had a son by his dead wife?' "'No,' answered my mother, whose strength was now spent, 'I do not know. O, God, I am dying! Forgive me and him who misled me. Forgive me, you noble shade of my dead husband whom I deceived, forgive me. ' "And with these words upon her lips my mother fell JACOB KRON 117 asleep in eternal rest. I closed her eyes and rushed from the cold, half dark room." Jacob was again silent and placed his hands before his face. When he removed them, Maurits perceived that he was weeping. The criminal, calloused by life's battles, wept at the memory of his mother, for her who died in the poor- house. "Well, what followed?" asked Maurits, at the same time wiping a tear from his own eyes. CHAPTER VII JACOB KRON, CONTINUED "After my mother's burial," continued Jacob, "I set out on a tramp for the purpose of finding my father. I arrived, one cold December evening, at his place of residence, a large and beautiful estate in Elfsborg Land, for my father, who belonged to a baronial family, served, at that time, in the Elfsborg regiment in which he held high rank. "I learned later that he had recently remarried with a young lady, to whom he was much attached, belong- ing to a rich and noble family. "As I have said, I arrived one winter evening at the home of the newly-wedded pair. It was in the midst of a severe snow storm and I was, therefore, almost stiffened with cold, and, moreover, had not eaten any- thing during the day. "I entered the kitchen. Just at the time, it was un- occupied. I seated myself quietly in a corner and waited. "After a time, a door communicating with another room was opened, and a half grown boy sprang into the kitchen. I recognized my sworn enemy, my half- brother. He had ridden home to spend a happy Christ- mas with his parents, while I had come on foot, hungry and nearly frozen, through the heaped up snowdrifts to but wait, you shall hear. "My brother did not perceive me, for he ran hastily through the room without looking toward the corner 118 JACOB KROiV, CONTINUED I IQ where I had concealed myself. Some minutes there- after one of the domestics entered. I arose, and, greeting him humbly, asked if I could see the baron. "After some hesitation, he showed me up to the baron's room, which was situated on the upper floor of the house. "fyfy father sat writing. When I entered, he looked up from his paper and asked me gruffly what I wished. 'Trembling, I produced my mother's parting gift, the little amber heart, stepped nearer to him and laid' jt on the table before him. "He grasped it eagerly. By the light of the taper, I saw that he changed color. ' 'What do you mean by this, boy?' thundered he finally. "I now delivered my mother's message. I related to him that I had been expelled from school in conse- quence of a difference with his son, my half-brother, and I implored him most pathetically to give me a little aid, otherwise I must perish of hunger. Can you guess my father's answer?" "No, what was it?" exclaimed Maurits excitedly. "With perfect tranquillity, he took the amber heart, the only thing of value I possessed in the world, and put it into his pocket. Thereupon he grasped the bell-rope and rang. A servant entered. "'Take this boy and throw him out of the house!' said my father. 'He has been bold and saucy. And,' continued he, turning to me, 'if you ever again put yourrelf in my sight, rascal, I'll put you where the sun and moon never shine. Out with him!' "The servant, who was a powerful fellow, caught me by the collar and threw me out through the door- way, then pushed me down the stairs out into the cold I2O THE PLAY OF FATE winter night where the snow whirled around me. Such was my first meeting with my real father, Maurits. " 'God in heaven, it is terrible!" cried Maurits, al- most dumfounded with horror. 'I stood there," resumed Jacob, "outside my father's brightly lighted and cheerful-looking home, without a roof to shelter me; without so much as a crust of bread with which to still my hunger, and nowhere to lay my weary head. My thoughts became bitter; hate took firm root within me. I glanced up toward the gray sky, where heavy snow clouds were chasing each other and no star was there to meet my gaze. I asked my- self then for the first time, is there a God who watches over his children? "The storm wailed. I thought it uttered a 'no' in answer to my question. Then I lifted my hand on high and swore swore to hate, to hate deeply, eter- nally, to the death, first and foremost my father and brother, and next all that belonged to the same dam- nable class as they. "I had just completed my thirteenth year, but my studies and sufferings had prematurely ripened my understanding. I at once perfected a plan for re- venge. "I begged my bread when I could not get work. Some days after the meeting with my father, I laid in ambush for him in the dusk of the evening. When he neared me, I took up a large stone, and threw it with all my strength at his head. It hit him. He fell to the ground without uttering a sound. I sprang out to look at him. He was not dead, for I saw that he moved. My senses ran wild. I stood meditating the completion of the murder when my JACOB KRON, CONTINUED 121 arm was grasped by a powerful hand. It was the same servant who had thrown me downstairs, and who had followed his master at a. distance. I was thus caught in the very act. "My father soon returned to consciousness, but I was cast into prison to await my doom. I was still a child, wherefore I was only condemned to be whipped in public, and to serve four years in a house of correc- tion. "Do you know what a house of correction means, Mauri ts? " "No, but the name gives me to understand that it is an institution where our habits are corrected. It is derived, no doubt, from the Latin word 'corrigere. '" "Yes, Maurits, you are right. It truly signifies an institution for improving one's habits. The state says so, but it is the most cruel and bitter irony." ''Why so?" "Because instead of a house of correction it ought to be called a house of corruption. Instead of an in- stitution for the betterment of conduct, it ought to be called an institution of debasement. For if a particle of virtue, of honesty, of conscience remains when one is confined in such a nest, it vanishes at once and totally, leaving only place for hate and revenge, for crime and misery." "And were you imprisoned in such a place?" asked Maurits. "Yes, my boy. First I received a public flogging at the whipping-post in front of the same poor-house wherein I had seen my mother die, and that in the presence of my former comrades, who now regarded me as an object of abhorrence, a 'fit candidate for the gallows. 122 THE PLAY OF FATE "Thereafter, I was confined in the house of correc- tion, to be reformed, ha, ha, ha! "At the expiration of four y^ars, passed in company with robbers, thieves and criminals of every class, surrounded by fierce, brazen and godless companions in misfortune, I was again thrown into the streets, without home, without relations, and without means or power, by any honorable pursuit, to earn my bread. "I was now about eighteen years old. Tiie good seed that had been sown in my childhood had not yet been entirely choked out. My mind was, truly, oc- cupied with feelings of hate and bitterness, but yet I would blush to steal. I determined to seek work. "'Where is your recommendation?' I was at once asked when I presented myself and applied for work. "I had nothing else than my certificate of four years service in the house of correction for an attempt to murder at my thirteenth year. I was turned from with abhorrence and allowed to go my way. 'Everywhere, go where I would, the same question, the same answer. I was thrown into a state of the deepest despondency and misery. I went to Stock- holm to seek employment. Even there 1 was refused, scorned, cursed and kicked out by everybody. "I continued to wander around in the great, busy city some weeks without a- fixed place of abode, or place to lay my head, not knowing one day whether I could sustain my miserable life on the morrow. It was winter and bitterly cold. I remember that more than one night I buried myself in manure piles to escape certain death from the cold. "It was one evening just at dusk, during this period of wretchedness. I had not eaten for two days. My clothes were nothing but miserable rags that scarcely JACOB KRON, CONTINUED 123 shielded my wasted and freezing limbs. I stood upon the foot path of Norrhro, and was looking down with longing upon the swiftly passing water beneath. In your keeping I shall find peace, thought I. I had al- ready lifted myself on my arms, ready to throw myself over the bridge railing head first into the stream when suddenly a new thought occurred to me. "I heard a carriage coming with great speed from the direction of Adolf's Square, and I saw it take course toward the bridge. I will throw myself under the hoofs of the horses, and under the wheels of the carriage, thought I. It will be an easier method of death than to plunge into these ice-cold waves. Under the carriage I shall be crushed at once. "So said, so done. The carriage approached. I cast first a glance at its occupants By the light of the street lamps, I recognized my father. "He sat at the side of his young and beautiful wife and, on the back seat, I discerned in the young man stretched carelessly upon the soft cushions, my brother. "Good! cried I aloud, so much the better. I shall die then under the wheels of my father's carriage. My blood shall splash up and smear his clothes, testi- fying to his infamous cruelty. I rushed forward and cast myself under the hoofs of the snorting horses. The carriage passed over me. "'What in the name of Satan is that for a bundle of rags that will not get out of the way!' These were the only words I heard. The carriage rolled away, and I lay there fainting in my blood. I was picked up by the police and conveyed to a hospital. I had not ac complished my intention, which was to die. My wounds were healed after the expiration of many 124 THE PLAY OF FATE weeks, and I was again let out into the world. It was supposed I bad fallen under the wheels by accident, and I allowed them to think so. "I had seen my father drive over me without troub- ling himself about it, without so much as pausing to ask after my condition. That cold, cruel egoism had kindled anew the bitterest hate in my soul; had given me courage to live for revenge. "I will now skip over the two years following my discharge from the hospital. How they were spent, I may at some other time inform you. It is enough to say they were stormy. "I was twenty years old when an unexpected good fortune overtook me. I received an inheritance. "My mother had a brother who b} 7 his industry and frugality had earned enough to buy a little farm in a pretty quarter of Westergothland. He died unmarried and intestate, in consequence of which I announced myself his their, established my kinship, and took possession of the little farm. "Now began brighter days for me. I had acquired a fixed field of activity. My long nourished dream was fulfilled. I had found work. I could cultivate my own acres. I need neither steal nor beg. I could eat my own bread. "I turned with aversion from my former stormy manner of life and grasped with zeal the spade and plow. Ah, my child> I swear by the Eternal that my inclinations were never evil; that my disposition was always for a life of honorable employment, like a mag- net attracted to the polar star. It is not I that am responsible for the swerving, it is fate; it is mankind, its slave, it is the public, its personification. "For two years I lived on my little farm, cultivated JACOB KRON, CONTINUED 125 my ground, and between times read, for my old incli- nation to study was again awakened. I procured books and resumed my studies where I had stopped when expelled from school. "Work and prosperity moderated my hate against the rich, although the recollections of my sufferings were always bitter. I even came in time, that I could, from my porch, see my titled brother, in the brilliant uniform of the guards, ride past without experiencing a temptation to rush upon him or speak to him. I could look upon him with pity and contempt. "I ought to state here that the property I had in- herited was situated only a few miles from my father's place of residence. So it happened that I often saw my noble brother ride past. He on his part some- times cast an indifferent glance at my cottage and myself, but did not recognize me. "I had, as I have said, lived two years on my little estate, when I fell in love with a young and beautiful girl whose parents, very poor peasants, lived in a neighboring village. "Johanna, for so my chosen one was named, was not indisposed to the union, and when I asked for her hand, she fell upon my neck and promised me eternal fidelity. "We were married. My young wife entertained for me, so I believed, a love above all else, and sweet- ened my life with her gentle solicitude for my com- fort. 1, who had before hated the world, began now to love it. Even my hate toward my father began to moderate. "So passed a number of happy months, as it were in a dream; daily my love for my beautiful Johanna was intensified- 126 THE PLAY OF FATE "To procure money, I went often to the nearest city to dispose of the products of my land. On these oc. casions I was sometimes absent over night, for the city was a considerable distance from my home. "One day, it was in autumn, said I to my wife: "Johanna, I shall go in the morning to dispose of a ton or so of rye. You need not look for my return be- fore the day after to-morrow. You must console your- self as best you can, my good wife.' "'So be it, Jacob,' she answered. 'I will, mean- while, mount the warp and begin your shirts. But do not stay too long, for it is very tedious when you are away. ' "I kissed my young wife for these words. The fol- lowing day, I set out at daybreak, arriving in the city before noon. "I was so fortunate as to find a purchaser without delay, and, having no other business in the city, I de- termined to return at once to my home. "I was as happy as a child with the prospect of a glad surprise for my beautiful wife, who would not be expecting me. "I reached my home sometime after sunset. Quiet- ly I stabled my horse, and then crept forward on tip- toe to the cottage .window in order to see undisturbed ? my Johanna as I expected she would appear to me in her loveliness. You may guess the sight that met my view. No, no, you cannot comprehend it, it is too terrible!" Again Jacob Kron was overwhelmed by his feelings. This memory seemed to be the most painful of all. He was silent while the restrained tears welled up in his eyes which were fixed steadfastly and vacantly upon the ground. JACOB KROX, CONTINUED 127 "What did you see?" asked Maurits anxiously, awaiting a continuation. "O, say, was your wife dead?" "Dead! " exclaimed Jacob, grasping the child by the arm and fastening his awful burning eyes upon him. "I saw rny wife in another's arms and he my brother!" "Great God! He again!" "The play of fate!" hissed Jacob between his teeth, "But listen further; I do not know what I thought, what I felt at that terrible instant. My heart that had already been made to bleed from so many wounds was crushed at one blow. I remember only that I pressed my corpse-like face hard against the window pane, and fastened "my eyes with an empty, staring expres- sion upon the two persons in the room. "My brother had folded my wife in his arms. He kissed her. It was as if a glowing iron pierced my soul at the sight, but I made no movement. I was as if nailed to the ground. "Suddenly I heard my wife utter a cry of horror, and saw her, staggering, fall into a chair, while with a terrified look she pointed toward the window. "My brother turned around. My face, awfully con- torted with pain and rage, hard pressed against the window pane, appeared to strike him also with ter- ror. Our glances met for a second. There blazed a world of hate in mine, so much I felt. Before I could make a movement, my brother had thrown open a door on the opposite side of the house from where I stood, rushed out, thrown himself upon his horse and was away. "I heard the sound of hoofs, saw the rider fly past on the highway. If I had had a gun in my hands that ride would have been his last on earth. But now, my 128 THE PLAY OF FATE anger, my despair, unnerved me, and I was forced to allow him to escape. "I was crushed. My heart was dead. I possessed nothing now for which to live, but revenge. "I entered my home. My wife sat half swooning by the window. At my entrance she sprang up, bared her breast, and reached me a knife saying: "'I have deceived you, Jacob, stab me here! ' "'No,' answered I, 'but go from my presence, you wretch!' "I took her in my arms, and threw her out of the door. Her tears, her prayers served only to augment my rage. "The following day I sold my farm and fled. My good resolutions were destroyed by fate. "I have since wandered the world over, Mauri ts, like the shoe-maker of Jerusalem, unable to find a refuge on earth or peace of heart. "How I lived during that time, of that I will not speak. It is enough that I availed myself of every op- portunity for revenge. And I shall hereafter allow no chance that is offered to escape me." "And your brother? What became of him?" asked Maurits. ' He is dead," returned Jacob gloomily; "he died by the bullet of an assassin, here, on this spot." "What do you say!" burst forth the boy with a shudder. "Was it he who fell here? And by whose hand?" "His murderer has never been discovered." "What was your brother's name?" "I have sworn never to utter that hated name," answered Jacob. ''Therefore do not ask me," "And your father, does he still live?" JACOB KRON, CONTINUED I2Q "My father live? Yes, he lives!" exclaimed Jacob in tones of suppressed rage. "He lives and is of a piece with his son." "Does he reside in Westergothland?" "No, he has taken leave, and gone to Stockholm. He is rich, has a beautiful wife and two children. He is respected and highly esteemed in the world, while I, his son, death and damnation!" "Your history is frightful, terrible!" resumed Maurits' after a short silence. "I do not, of course, yet compre- hend all its horrors, but this much I do understand, that the world and mankind have treated you worse than a dog. " "Yes, my child," returned Jacob, "you are right, and your unusual intelligence for one of your years has made me desire to impart it to you, I said I be- lieved I should do you a service, and I cannot deny that I still so believe; for in childhood the whole world appears good, all mankind seems to be endowed with the same purity as himself, and he is, therefore, often cruelly deceived, wounded, trampled under foot as I have been. It is beautiful to be good, unselfish and helpful, but possessing only these, one is a defense- less prey to evil, cruelty and avarice. He is like the lamb that is torn to pieces by the wolves. If one would escape this fate, he must be able to battle for himself. It is this that I would teach you." "But do you believe, then, that all the rich are equally wicked and unfeeling with your father and brother, and the gentleman who treated me so ill? Do you not believe that there are to be found honorr able aid estimable men even among the rich?" "I do not question that there are some, for there is no rule to which there is not an exception. But wealth I3O THE PLAY OF FATE has that in it that begets wicked desires, lust and self- love. There is no gift of fate that is in a like degree corrupting. It is quite natural and easily explained. For think you a child that is reared in the lap of luxury, surrounded by all that wealth can buy or fancy desire, possesses the most refinement, the greatest ten- derness? Think you a child that passes its early years in the fixed certainty that sometime, without seek- ing, without effort or consideration on his part, he will come into a rich inheritance, ever attains to great abil- ity? Can there be anything more corrupting, more un- reasonable than that the state leaves a portion of its children in that certainty, while it says to the rest, work! work! work! and yet you shall not gain so much as a roof over your head, a crust of bread to still your hunger!" "Certainly not, but we cannot help that Providence has dealt so unequally." "We cannot help it; yes, so say they all. I tell you it can be helped!" "And in what way?" "I do not say that it can be wholly avoided," re- sumed Jacob. "No, there will alwa) T s be a difference, a great unfathomable gulf, between different individ- uals. On the one side is intelligence, genius, industry* talent and virtue; on the other ignorance, indolence, sloth and crime. "I will continue this figure and endeavor to make it plain to you how it is, and how it might be. The gulf cannot be filled, said I ; then mankind may struggle, but never overcome fate, which caused the gulf. But if, however, it cannot be filled, bridges may, neverthe- less,be built over it. "You look at me doubtingly; you do not grasp my JACOB KRON, CONTINUED 13! meaning, or you think, perhaps, that my representation is illogical. Well, I will explain myself. "I said I would show you how it is and how it could be. Thus then over the gulf that cannot be filled there is at present no bridge upon which they who stand on the dark side may go over to the light if they desire. Such a bridge can only be built upon the in- visible arches of an infinite love that strives to restore what fate has destroyed; that hastens to stretch a help- ing hand to the fallen. Well, is there no such love? Are there none among the white children who will reach his black brother the hand? I do not dispute that there is. Such a love exists. They would conduct the unfortunate outcast to the bright, the happy side. They would cheer, comfort and help. I don't deny that, but their efforts miscarry. Their half finished work is demolished with each effort, and why? For, to- gether with virtue, genius and talent, on that other and brighter side of the gulf, is a fourth power, wealth. It is this that destroys the bridges which the love of the others impelled them to build, and to such an' ex- tent has this demoralization reached that wealth is mightier than them all. "That power destroys the works of the others, I have said. Yes, because it will get as near to absolute rule as possible. It fears the ragamuffin and the pro letariat more than the pest; for,thinks he, if they come over to our side they will want me to share with them, but I will not hear of a division. And thus the pariahs of the community, the unfortunate, the igno- rant, the hungering, the criminal and all remain in their nightlike darkness. There comes no friendly hand to lead them over the abyss, for the hand that Christian love stretches forth is enfeebled by self-love. 132 THE PLAY OF FATE "So it is, my child, so to a certain extent it will always be. We cannot help it." "But you said just now that it could be helped," re- turned Maurits. "In a measure, .yes," resumed Jacob. "It might in some degree be helped in this manner by virtue, genius and talent banding together and accomplishing its overthrow. In a word, by all mankind becoming enlightened with a higher law of reason and love that would not yield every field to egoism. That were a law of brotherhood, of equality, and if that could not be obeyed by all, much, nevertheless, would be gained, if it were proclaimed. In a state where such a law pre- vailed, there would be neither rich nor poor. All would have the right to work, and to retain what they earned by their labor, but nothing more. So it might be, Maurits. It is possible; but that is all, for I am not so foolish as to believe that such an idea will ever be realized." "I do not understand you perfectly," said the boy, "but my heart tells me that you are right in much, if not also in all." "I have told you, boy, that what you do not now un derstand, you will sometime in the future, when you have gone through life's bitter school. It is not to the child of to-day that I would talk, it is to the coming youth and the mature man. But our conversation has been already too much prolonged. It is late and your poor mother will be uneasy. Take your bundle and go. We shall meet again perhaps, but do not forget what I have said. Hate, a bloody and irreconcilable hate, against wealth and its unworthy possessors." With these words Jacob arose and prepared to go. Maurits hastily gathered his load, laid it over his JACOB KRON, CONTINUED 133 shoulder, and by the side of the stranger left the grave of the murdered man. "Farewell, Maurits," said Jacob, when they again stood upon the highway. "Our paths lead indifferent directions, but_do not forget what you have heard." "Never!" exclaimed the boy earnestly. "I shall never forget this evening and your horrible narrative. Farewell!" Maurits hastened with swift pace toward his home, while Jacob remained standing in the road looking after him. "What will mamma say?" thought the boy. "I have been so long away that she must surely be very uneasy about me. And shall I tell her all that has happened me this evening?" These thoughts were sore disturbers of the boy's soul. On the one hand, he did not wish to conceal anything from his mother, and on the other, he feared her displeasure if he should inform her that he had again met the red-head, against whom she had warned him. It was, therefore, not without a little trepi- dation that Maurits entered the hut where the poor mother was still at work by the light of her lamp. Mrs. Sterner, however, made no observation, for when she saw the flowers that the boy had brought, she thought he had been the whole time employed in their gathering. Maurits said nothing, therefore, having no dispo- sition to grieve his mother with an account of his meeting in the forest. CHAPTER VIII ODENSVIK Count Stjernekrantz, the wealthy heir to the mag- nificent estate of Odensvik, had finally, as we have seen in a preceding chapter, returned from his extend- ed foreign travels to take possession of his father's pal- ace. Eberhard had rambled far and wide since we saw him that terrible evening in Tyrol on "Death's Cliff." He had, "hunted by his fate," as he said, visited Italy's and Sicilia's luxuriant valleys; had sailed across the Mediterranean Sea to the story land of the Orient; had carved his name upon the trunks of the cedars of Lebanon, and slept in the shade of Afric's palms. In a. word, he had enjoyed. He had at length returned to Europe, hastening through the flowery lands of Spain and France toward the world's capital, civilization's center, Paris. In Paris he had resided a winter, but, by the com. ing of the spring, he had tired of its pleasures, and, taking his staff in hand, set out on foot up the banks of the noble Rhine, accompanied only by a French- man, whose friendship he had recently won. All through the summer he wandered over Germany, but when the autumn approached, he determined to return home, spend the winter .in Sweden and take possession of his rich estates. Eberhard was hardly twenty-three years old, but he had, nevertheless, so early begun to be satiated with life. He was already 134 ODENSVIK 135 what the Frenchman would call, "un homme blase"." Two years of incessant revel in all the pleasures that the nature of the southern lands could devise, had, as is usual, left after it satiety and aversion. The count must needs rest and renew his strength. He therefore journeyed home to "philosophise over life in the forests of Vermland," as he put it. Count Eberhard was a fatalist in the broadest sig- nificance of the term. We have described already, in Jacob Kron, a representative of this class, but the reader may, perhaps, see that beween the fatalism of these two persons there is a wide difference. The fatalist, not the Greek but the modern, has either his support in an actual and, it would seem irremediable incongruity in life, an incongruity which crushes the hopes of our youth, foils our efforts even for good, and casts us helpless into the abyss of misery and crime; or, also, it is only a theory, which a mind prone to depravity sets up for itself in order to silence its own conscience with Plato's tenet, "It was my fate. " These two cases are seen to be in a converse rela- tion to each other, for, as it is misfortune, suffering, misery and the resultant crime that in the first leads to such views, so it is the actual opinions that lead to the misfortunes, sufferings arid crime in the latter. Eberhard Stjernekrantz was not a practical fatalist. No material misfortune, no great mental affliction had ever befallen him. Reared in the bosom of an almost princely wealth, he had from childhood accustomed himself to have all his wishes gratified, for he had a weak and childish mother, whom he had ruled already as a boy; and when, later on, he would enjoy the same freedom, he came into conflict with a will 136 THE PLAY OF FATE stronger than his own, his father's, he raved and cursed the fate that denied him his liberty. At that time Eberhard had made the acquaintance of a foreigner, a Frenchman, who, in some manner related to the deceased Count Stjernekrantz, had come to visit the home of Eberhard's father in Vermland. This acquaintance had laid the foundation of the ungodliness so early manifested in the )'oung man's soul. Reared under the storms of revolutions, M. Crispin, such was the foreigner's name, had seen his first youth break into a time when religion was no longer acknowledged in his fatherland; he had fol- lowed the chariot whereupon the street nymph who should represent the goddess of reason during the jubilee of the mass, was conveyed in triumph to Notr e Dame. He had seen Marat cast himself upon the ground during a heavy thunder storm, and had heard him cry out, "If there be a God, let him slay me with his lightning, or I will den}' his existence." 'M. Crispin had entertained the opinions of the most ardent atheists ever since Napoleon's edict had re- established religion in France. These opinions he had carried with him to Sweden, and as he had found in the young count Stjernekrantz a willing and at- tentive pupil, he had undertaken, during the time he dwelt at Odensvik, to initiate the youth into the system. - They had studied Voltaire and Diderot together, and had philosophized over their writings. These dreadful teachings could but bear dreadful fruit. The estate of Odensvik was one of the largest in Vermland. The principal edifice, constructed of stone, and dating from the middle of the iyth century, lay upon a hill near the banks of Lake Wener, and was ODENSVIK 137 surrounded on two sides by a large and shady park, the trees in which were for the most part oak. On one side, that facing the lake, terrace after terrace descend- ed to its bank. This was the nobleman's garden, and .In truth one of the most extensive and elegantly laid out in that region. The immense greenhouse, reared at the foot of the extensive terraces, was filled with rarest plants, brought from the balmy air of the tropics, or the rich valleys of Southern Europe. Here were to be seen Calla .rEtiopica, with its snow white flowers, by the side of the beautiful red blossoms of a Cactus Speciosa. There were trees laden with pomegranates, lemons and apricots that glistened among the luxu- riant green leaves, while the vine with its swelling grapes wound itself around their trunks. Fountains played in the la-n, and cast their glitter- ing pearls into marble basins around which semi-nude Naiads, carved in marble, kept guard. On the fourth side of the building was a spacious field from which led an avenue bordered with high oaks, and at the end of a half mile, more or less, en- tered the great highway. Odensvik was joined on one side by the estate of Liljedahl, to which the reader has already been intro- duced. The latter lay, however, farther southward, where, as we know, its chief buildings were reared upon a point of land jutting into Lake Wener. Botli estates were in view from the road which passed the home of Mrs. Sterner, one on each side of the little village of which her hut was a part. Thus, on the east and west sides, Odensvik was surrounded by the aforementioned oak park. This park was watered by canals, and was traversed in many directions by these waterways, centering in the 138 THE PLAY OF FATE eastern part in the middle of the park around a spot covered with high and thick foliaged trees surrounded with an iron trellis where Count Eberhard's mother lay entombed. Within this enclosure was a broken column of white marble, with only these words carved upon it, "Matilda Stjernekrantz. " It was in accordance with the wishes of the deceased countess that she was buried in this spot. The place had been well cared for, and Eberhard had, after his return home, commanded that the column should be daily hung with fresh flowers from the greenhouse, for the unnatural son, though he had murdered his father, was touched, nevertheless, with a feeling of love at thought of the mother who had spoiled him. It was evening, the day after the incidents of the last chapter. In one of those golden, leaf covered paths, that tended toward the mausoleum, two men, clad in promenade -capes, might have been seen walk- ing back and forth. The hour was half after four. The sun was inclined already toward the west, while the autumn evening was unusually mild and clear. The crowns of the trees shone like gold in the rays of the evening sun, and now and then a flower that had not been overtak- en by the frost fell at their feet. One of the promenaders appeared to be a man of about middle age, small in stature, but strong and muscular in build. In his face was expressed more than ordinary energy, and his dark eyes glowed with a fire out of which genius blazed. A bountiful head of brown hair surrounded his broad forehead, upon which, however, suffering and passion had plowed their furrows here and there. This person was M. Crispin, the aforementioned Frenchman, whom Eberhard had ODENSVIK 139 again found in Paris, and had induced to follow him to Sweden. The two gentlemen had now arrived at the mausoleum, where they came to a bench. "Let us sit down, my dear Crispin," said the younger of them, who was no other than Eberhard; "I feel tired of this continual going back and forth." The two seated themselves upon the bench. "On this spot," began the Frenchman, after a short silence, "we sat a few years ago and read Voltaire's La Pucclh'. Do you recall it?" "Yes, you were a capital teacher." "And in the midst of our reading we were surprised by your father, who, full of indignation, took the book and strictly forbade me to allow you to read such god- less and trifling writings. Your good father did not know how to appreciate Voltaire's genius, Eber- hard." "No," replied the count, "my father was a very practical man, I must admit." "But he came, however, to a very romantic end, ac- cording to your narration," resumed Crispin. "You were present at the instant he fell inio the Inn, I be- lieve?" "Yes," answered Eberhard, shuddering, "I was pres- ent. " "And you could not help him?" "No, no, but let us leave this mournful subject. My father rests quietly on the bottom of the Inn; let him sleep in peace." "Yes, yes," said Crispin, thoughtfully, "you are right. May the dead repose in quiet. They will not haunt us. Man lives and dies, and that is the end of him." "Yes," said Eberhard, "the law of annihilation is 140 THE PLAY OF FATE written for all. It is the utmost link in necessity's chain. Ah, my friend, what playthings we are." "Truly," answered the Frenchman, fastening his dark, piercing eyes on Eberhard, "truly we are play- things, as you say, but there are, however, others weaker than we with whom we may play. The laws of the world govern mankind, but men, among them- selves, rise one above another, rule each other, for a time, by force. But the law of force is to crush every obstacle that interposes, until you are yourself crushed by one mightier. And what is it that invests us with strength," continued Crispin, "other than gold and in- telligence? Virtue, they say. I deny it. I know no virt- uethat is to say, none that the moralists so admire. I have seen those that the world has called the most honorable fall a sacrifice to their virtues. I have stood at the font of the scaffold of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. I have seen a thousand paragons of virtue dye the ax with their blood, while strength and understanding went victoriously on. Louis XVI fell, said I. What for? Because he was what is called an honorable man, a model of virtue and probity. Louis XIV, in contrast, sat securely on his throne for fifty years, while he was a conscienceless but powerful man, who would resort to any expedient and he M!IO would rule must possess no conscience, have no re- ligion." "But Napoleon fell," interrupted Eberhard. "Yes, because he went to the opposite extreme; be- cause he defied fate itself. He fell through extrava- gant presumption; for, mark you, a strength that is not governed by intelligence, must finally succumb. The bow-string breaks if stretched too hard. But by a moderate application of strength it is given power ODENSVIK 141 to speed the death-dealing missile. An excess of cour- age is quite as disastrous as an excess of uprightness, an excess of virtue." "But you sa.d jus. now," objected Eberhard, "that all power must crush until in turn it is crushed by a mightier. If the latter assumption be granted, why then make a limit?" "Understand me correctly, Eberhard. The law is fixed, for sooner or later, all must be crushed to death. But that time can often be hastened or delayed, accord- ing as calculation directs or plans. It is not enough to be a lion, one must be a fox as well." "You are right, Crispin, and my objections have not arisen from doubt, but rather from a desire to hear you more clearly illustrate your theories theories, absurd- ly titled paradoxes. You are right, and I will prove myself worthy in the eyes of my teacher." "But there must be no soft spot in you, not too much of your mother, although she was French, a child of the south. You have inherited her ardor, for which you are not to blame. May you possess with it the strength of the Northman." "My mother, yes, she was a vivacious soul. You were acquainted with her in her youth?" A strange smile flitted across the foreigner's lips at the count's question; out of his eyes flashed fire when he answered: "Yes, Eberhard, I was somewhat acquainted with her. She was related to our family, as you know." "In her early youth she was very beautiful, I can believe," said Eberhard. "Yes, very beautiful; an extraordinary beauty." "I remember her only as a pale and seemingly sor- row-bowed woman. If I do not err, she must have 142 THE PLAY OF FATE had some melancholy recollection which undermined her life." "Quite possible," was the foreigner's short assent. At that instant, a servant approached the place where the pair sat in conversation. "Herr Count," said he, addressing Eberhard, "there is a gentleman at the house who wishes to speak with you in private." "Very well, I'll come." The servant went his way. "Will you go with me, Crispin," asked Eberhard, "or will you await my return here?" "Go, I will wait." Eberhard departed. When he was no longer in sight, the foreigner arose from the bench, crossed his arms over his breast and stood contemplating steadfastly the monument, and the inscription thereon. "Matilda Stjernekrantz! " said he slowly, to himself. "You deceived me. You chose another, although a bond of gratitude should have made you mine. Al- though I, at the peril of my life, rescued you and your family from death upon the scaffold, although you had sworn fidelity to me, your oath flew away with the wind and you deceived me. Woe untO)'ou! for I have been revenged. Not upon you, but upon your son, your heart's idol. He has paid the penalty. You died with the terrible certainty, for I had whispered it in your ears, and you knew that Crispin always keeps his word. "Here, at the foot of the grave, false woman, here I have planted the seeds of destruction in his mind. It was not difficult, for he is of a piece with his mother. Here I have initiated him into that cold, that fearful ODENSVIK 143 egoism that shall sooner or later bring him to a prec- ipice over which I shall push him, helpless, and with- out compassion. Then I'll laugh with scorn and say, it is the play of fate. The curse of the mother's crime breeds over the son. " A fire of hellish joy lighted up the foreigner's dark countenance as he thus spoke. Turning away, he wrapped his cape closer about his shoulders, and re- turned slowly to the castle. CHAPTER IX THE AMBER HEART Having now given a hasty sketch of the principal characters in our narrative, we will, with the reader's permission, pass over a period of about four years, during which little of importance occurred. After a few months' sojourn in his fatherland, Eber- hard Stjernekrantz, accompanied by his teacher, M. Crispin, set out anesv upon his wanderings over the continent. An unceasing, burning restlessness pur- sued the patricide. Mrs. Sterner might still be found occupied by turns with her needle and wheel, and Maurits, who had be- come a large boy of fourteen, still went to the noble Pastor Bergholm, whose favor he retained, especially because of his great progress in learning for one of his years. The classmate of his boyhood, Oscar Berg- holm, his father seeing the impossibility of teaching him Latin and Greek, had taken employment in Goth- enberg, where he was now a well-established office clerk. Between him and his parents a lively corre- spondence was kept up, as also with Maurits, for whom Oscar always entertained a deep felt affection. Jacob Kron, "the redhead," had not again been heard of. He had disappeared, Maurits knew not where, but deep and ineffaceable were the recollections in his boy's soul of the meetings at the grave of the murdered man. Mighty was the impression that the horrible narrative of Jacob's gloomy fate had made 144 THE AMBER HEART 145 upon the child's mind, and neither the mother's love nor Pastor Bergholm's pure Christian spirit, was suffi- cient to entirely remove its influence. But the years glided by, and nothing further occur- ring to remind Maurits of the haughty and wicked baron who was instrumental in bringing about his first meeting with the red-head, the affronts he had suffered had, long since, lost their bitterness. Child- hood's fancies are, however, the most enduring. Even so with Maurits. He regarded with aversion and dis- trust every one known to him to be one of the wealthy and upper class. This feeling he had, however, care- iully concealed within his breast, for his instinct told him that it would find no indulgence either in his mother or his teacher. It is a Saturday afternoon in the early part of Au- gust. The sun has burned hot the whole day, but now toward evening the air >s somewhat cooler. Pastor Bergholm is sitting on the steps before his home with his dear pipe in his mouth. At his side is Maurits, clad in a blouse and straw hat, reading aloud from a book. It is Virgil's /Eneid. As Maurits scans, the pastor keeps time on the floor with his foot. The good man is enraptured. He is in his element. The well-known sound of the great poet's thoughts caress his ears; they come from the lips of a youth whom he has himself educated, whom he loves, of whom he is proud. What better can he want? " Bene legisti, dilectissime," cried he when Maurits reached a pause. "But let that be enough now for a while. We must save some of that beautiful episode for another time. But what do you say to these lines: 146 THE PLAY OF FATE " ' Purpureus velutiquum flos succiscus aratro Languescit moriens, lassove paparera collo Demisere caput, quuin pluvia forte gravantur.' What do you say to that?" repeated the pastor, while his glance rested with pleasure on the boy's open and well-formed features. "It is very beautiful. Quite divine," exclaimed Maurits with spirit. "In our day there are no such writers." "No, yet one must acknowledge that even our times have produced good poets, though they copy much after those of former days, and Germany has produced even greater than ours." "Yes," said Maurits, "I have just finished reading Schiller's -Die Rauber, ' which you lent me last week, and nothing more horrid, wilder, and at the same time more beautiful could be conceived. How deeply I am indebted to my noble teacher, who, by means of the instructions given me, has enabled me to enjoy these masterpieces." "Boy," resumed the pastor, "it is beautiful to mani- fest gratitude, and I love you doubly therefor. You have highly rewarded my solicitude by your diligence and obedience. If you continue in this manner, you will become a learned and renowned man. Maurits ; you will be a comfort to me in my many domestic sorrows." "I am pleased to hear you say so, for I feel deeply grateful for all your goodness, Herr Pastor. But I should rather hope that you may need no comforter, that you may always be happy." "Ah, my child, what mortal does not, at every step from the cradle to the grave, experience the need of the love and. sympathy of his fellows? I need it in THE AM HER HEART 147 greater degree than many others. I have serious troub- les, Maurits; I have a galling position, looked at from an economical point of view. I have five children, a boy and four girls, whose bringing up falls heavy upon me. The boy, thoughtless fellow, will take care of himself. 1 hope. He has a good place, but I have serious apprehensions that in that great city he will be led into evil ways, for he is a high-spirited youth, Maurits, and too easily influenced. Would to God that you were at his side, my boy, for he has the ut- most confidence in you, and values your good opinion highly. But my daughters are my greatest concern. Wliat will become of them? God only knows! Neither of the three has any inclination to learn, not- withstanding I persistently keep them at their books. I would not willingly send them to a boarding-school, even if I had the means. Neither will I that they shall remain gross and ignorant mopsies. Women are not alone household machines, or they ought not to be. It is proper that they should be able to cook, nurse, and weave, but I demand that they shall, at least, know when the battle of Narva was fought, and what sort of man Schiller was. It is time that more thought was given to the rearing of women than has been, hitherto, Maurits." 'I agree with you fully," said the boy, "for I se.e clearly what a pleasure it would be to you if only your excellent wife understood and could converse with you upon subjects that interest you. But, concerning your daughters, I believe that the oldest certainly will, in time, do you honor." "I sincerely hope so. Marie is a good girl and dis- posed to read. She has a good head and can become a superior governess with time. She will take care of 148 THE PLAY OF FATE herself, I have no doubt. But with Louise, Lotta, and Ulla, it is worse. Those girls cause me no little trouble, and now, Brita has it in her head that they can amount to something if they learn nothing else than what belongs to housekeeping and such trash. She opposes me, and encourages their frivolities." The conversation was here interrupted by Madame Bergholm, who, accompanied by all of her daughters, came up and seated herself at the side of her husband. Madame Bergholm's face was a bright red, having just come from the kitchen fire and also from disci- plining a maid who had been disobedient and had broken a coffee-cup. Of the four girls who accompanied her, none was older than thirteen years. The oldest, Marie, pos- sessed a beautiful face and a countenance full of ex- pression, while the other three were homely, white- haired young ones, with no particular life in their glance. "My dear Bergholm," said his wife, as she seated herself, "we must surely take another maid next mov- ing day instead of Stina. " "Why so, Brita mine? I think Stina a very good girl." "You think and you think," interposed she emphat- ically, "and you don't know what you do think. The miserable creature will break everything we have in the house by her carelessness. One of my best coffee-cups has just been added to the list; but such things disturb you little." "Woman," said the pastor, with gravity, "don't talk to me of coffee-cups; I have other things to think about." "Yes, you have your Latin and Greek and whatever THE AMBER HEART 149 else you may call the stuff," she broke forth, "but never concern yourself about the sufferings of your poor wife. Why don't you throw your old books into the fire?" "Woman, don't sin against antiquity,but talk of things within your understanding. I have determined to teach Marie Latin. What do you say to it, my girl?" "Teach Marie Latin," shrieked madame, now act- ually angry, "and you believe that! It is already too much that she is made to waste her time with that French prattle which yo*u will, whether or not, drive into her head. If she is now to learn Latin, I shall leave, for I cannot bear to listen to it." "Tut, tut! don't get into such a stew," said the pastor smiling, for he only wished to frighten his wife a little. "But you must promise me tc incite the other girls to industry and the studies I have laid out for them. They will surely never marry, poor girls, and it is, therefore, so much more necessary to instruct them in useful knowledge by means of which they may in the future gain their livelihood." "Never," said she, "they shall never be governesses who can only play the piano and lisp their faime. I think more of a well-qualified housekeeper." "My dear Brita, though you received no education, you should not grudge it to your children." "Received no education," interrupted the woman in injured tones. "Listen to the man! Let me tell you that I received a sufficient education to manage you and all your household. If you are not satisfied with my knowledge, why did you take me to wife?" "Now, now, my dear woman," said the pastor per- suasively, "I meant no harm, and I am the first to ac- knowledge your merits. Do not be angry, therefore, for there is no occasion." 150 THE PLAY OF FATE "Well, let us say no more about it," said his wife, somewhat appeased. "But in the name of the Lord, who comes in the great carriage? It is coming here. Who can it be?" "I think it must be the priest's carriage," said the pastor indifferently, taking the pipe from his mouth. "Marie, hasten to the kitchen and put the coffee-pot on, and you girls run in and make things a little tidy. Gracious me! I look like a witch! Bergholm, go up and put your jacket on." "I shall do nothing of the kind," said the pastor, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. "My old frock is good enough." "What an incorrigible you are," said the wife, turn- ing on her heel and entering the house without waiting for a reply. Meantime, a carriage had driven up to the yard, and from it stepped first a short, very short, but chubby little man, clad in the garb of a priest, followed by a tall, lean woman who looked like a hop-pole, and finally, a youth who appeared to be about eighteen years old. It was the parish priest, Father Wassholm, with his wife and son. Pastor Bergholm arose and went to meet his guests. "Welcome, welcome, my dear brother!" exclaimed he somewhat embarrassed. "Welcome, my dear ma- dame, I hope you will excuse my old frock. 1 didn't know I was going to have such distinguished guests." "That is of no consequence, Pastor Bergholm," re- turned the lady with a gracious smile, while the priest twisted his peruke into place, and the son, a young student, thrust his hands into the back pockets of his coat. THE AM HICK HEART 15! The strangers were conducted into the little parlor where the hostess soon appeared, tricked out in her best attire. Maurits also went in and seated himself, bashfully, in a corner near the door. After the compliments had gone their rounds, the priest, turning the conversation, exclaimed: "I have come to give you some news." "Indeed! What is it?" "We are soon to have a new lord in the community. The venerable Baron Liljedahl is at the point of death, and as you know, my brother, the estate will be inher- ited by his only son, who, at present, resides in Stock- holm. He will come here one of these days with his family. He is a very arrogant fellow, it is said." "Is the old baron indeed so ill?" asked Madame Bergholm. "Yes, and it is not to be wondered at," interrupted the priest's wife; "he is over eighty years old, and it is time he was at rest. It will, no doubt, be charm- ing to make the acquaintance of the new Baroness Ehrenstam, who is said to be a learned and polished woman. It may be that her entrance into our society will effect a revolution in the tone of our community, which is surely not the best just now But my little Madame Bergholm knows nothing of these things, for she so seldom goes out into the world where so much slander and gossip prevail." Madame Wassholm was a literary dame, more than half a blue stocking. Her conversation was, for the most part, devoted to the beautiful arts, especially to poetry. With critical glance, she examined Shake- speare, Byron and Goethe, although we must, in truth admit that her criticisms were like the well-known 152 THE PLAY OF FATE Herr Flabbes', because she seldom had a more inti- mate knowledge of these poets than their names. Ever and anon, she would remember a stanza from her governess days, and these were made use of in season and out of season. Madame Wassholm's edu- cation was not profound, but she had a faculty of mak- ing a great display with the little she had. It bad also come about that in the whole neighborhood she had won a certain respect and admiration, and was, by the spectacle-maker, entitled the professor in petti- coats. Her husband, however, priest though he was, did not belong to the literati. The calls upon him for ed- ucational qualifications had never gone beyond the moderate demands now and then made upon a priest in an examination, which, God knows, in the year 1820, might be a mere pretense. Since he had received the gown, he had given himself wholly up to indolence. There was just one art in which he was the recog- nized superior of his contemporaries. This was drink- ing ale. It was his custom to have a tankard of the liquor standing by his bedside at night in order, when thirsty, to have his favorite beverage at hand. On the opposite side of the bed, his wife had a like tankard, but filled with small beer. One night, by mistake, so the story goes, the tank- ards were exchanged so that the priest had the small beer on his side. About midnight he awoke, burning with thirst. Reaching out his hand he grasped the vessel and took a^ good draught. Suddenly noticing an unfamiliar taste, he began to sputter and shout, "God forgive my sins! I believe this is small beer!" This worthy soul-saver had one quality, however, which we may mention. He was an incomparable in- THE AMBER HEART 153 triguer. When he sought the pastorate of Nodesdahla, where he was at present rector, Pastor Bergholm was also a candidate. The latter had the almost solid sup- port of the peasantry, and also received a great num- ber of the farmers' votes; but Wassholm understood how, by flattery, and insinuating himself, to win all the land proprietors to his side. He nad gone around, bowing and scraping, and resorting to all sorts of roundabouts, and luck was on his side. At the elec- tion, he had three plurality, and the hopes of the poor parson vanished. The lazy and ignorant priest, ale- guzzler and gormand secured thus the fat living, while the learned, plain and industrious Pastor Bergholm was obliged to remain in his obscure corner, a prey to continually augmenting economical troubles. So goes the world. We have given this description of the priest and his partner, because these two persons, farther on, will play a part in our narrative. Let us now return. The coffee-urn was borne back to the house, and Madame Wassholm began a literary discussion with Pastor Bergholm, while the priest oc- cupied himself with Madame Bergholm, who seemed to be highly flattered with the praise bestowed upon her coffee and biscuit by his reverence. Pastor Bergholm, on the other hand, was suffering great torment. Madame Wassholm assailed him un- mercifully with her critical reflections on the "newest literary creation," and the good pastor sought in vain for a pretext to get away from the conversation, for the woman's criticisms were nauseating. He sat as if on pins, uttering sometimes an "ahem," a "no," a "yes," or some similar expression of a single syllable, mopping the perspiration from his brow, twisting in his chair, i54 THE PLAY OF FATE at last standing up and walking, and finally, in his despair, puffing his tobacco smoke full in her face, but in vain. Madame Wassholm continued to explain the difference between the old and the new school of Swedish literature a controversy which, at that time, was at its height, and in which she declared she had long ago ranged herself on the side of the French party, because she could not endure the "Phosphorists' bombast," as she termed it. The pastor, who hated the academical school, must be silent and endure, ior, had he begun to contradict her, it would have been many fold worse for him, he knew. From the ''Phosphorists,'' Madame Wassholm threw herself with all her might upon the German Roman- cers, whom she abused without stint, maintaining a long and brilliant tirade on Schiller's "madness," Goethe's 'coldness," and Richter's "insanity," all of whom, she said, had produced nothing but a babel of words, and ought to be in a madhouse. "Who cannot see that Faust is of a most immoral tendency, and that Herman and Dorothea are only an abortive attempt at aping the trash of Homer?" We ought to state in pa renthesis that these opinions had been imbibed by Madame Wassholm from the public journals which she perused. But at last the pastor's patience was exhausted. Homer, his favorite, his idol, to be thus insolently at- tacked, and by whom? By a woman. This was more than he could swallow. "Woman!" he broke forth with a voice of thunder, but was suddenly checked by a heavy blow upon the back from his wife, who was passing by. "Pardon me," he resumed in embarrassment, "I should say, Madame Wassholm, you are too severe. Homer's works THE AMBER HEART 155 are not, and never will be trash. To this day their equal has never been produced." "That may be, Pastor Bergholm," said the learned lady with a haughty smile; "I will not differ with you. It seems to me, nevertheless, that the classics, as they are called, occupy altogether too much space among our educational methods. Why should one waste his precious time with so much Latin and Greek? " The pastor made no reply, but cast a glance of withering scorn at the speaker. Meanwhile, the young student had neared Maurits, who, up to the present, had sat silent and unobserved in his corner. "Hello, my boy!" said he with lordly condescen- sion, burying his hands in his pockets, "What is your name?" Maurits met this question with a somewhat surprised look. The young man's face seemed to him to bear the stamp of a more than common dullness, mixed with a certain arrogance. He therefore answered some- what curtly: "My name is Maurits Sterner; and yours?" The young man thought he did not hear aright. Was it possible? Would that boy, clad in a blouse, dare to address him, the priest's eldest son, in such an ill-bred manner? What crimen hesce majestatis! Maurits repeated his question with more force: "And you, what is your name?" The embryo Apollo made no reply, but muttering something between his teeth about audacity, stupidity, etc., he turned his back upon Maurits to join in the literary discussion between the pastor and Madame Wassholm. Finally the priest and his family took 156 THE PLAY OF FATE their departure, and Pastor Bergholm breathed lighter when he saw the carriage roll away. "That woman is a conundrum to me," said he, turning to Maurits. "Never in my life have I heard so much galimatias at one time. Usch! I believe it will make me sick. God spare me another such ex- perience. " "Yes," added Madame Bergholm, "you see in her the consequences of a learned bringing up. You would have your daughters of the same kind." "No, no, Brita, " cried the pastor, "I would have my daughters well educated, and what we have just seen is not education, but nonsense. Did anyone ever hear the like? The woman is surely crazy. God help her to her wits. I am glad I am acquainted with your mother, Maurits. There is a woman with an intellect, notwithstanding her poverty. Come, my boy, and read a page from Homer for me. I need something of the kind after all the prattle I have heard." Maurits opened the book, and soon had the pastor in his usual good humor. "See here, boy," said he, when Maurits had con- cluded, "I am going to lend you a new book, which I received only a few days ago from Carlstad. It is a poem titled Semiramis, the author of which is un- known. Let me know how you like it." Maurits thanked him, took the book and went, after promising to come again the following day to assist in the arrangement of some plant that the indefatigable scholar had gathered. "Mamma, ' said Maurits, when he entered the hut where M-rs. Sterner sat with her sewing, "the good pastor has lent me a new book. It is a poem, said to be very beautiful. If you wish I will read some of it to you while you work." THE AMBER HEART 157 "Yes, do so, my good boy," said the mother in a mild and melodious voice, "it will be pleasant to hear it. " The boy opened the book and began to read the beautiful poem. It was toward evening the day following the visit of the priest to Pastor Bergholm. Maurits sat leaning against the trunk of an elm on the banks of the river, which flowed through the lit- tle village on whose confines his mother's hut was lo- cated. He was just below the bridge, which has been pre- viously mentioned. The waves of the deep and foam- ing river licked the boy's feet, from which he had re- moved his shoes. A little below the place where Maurits sat was sit- uated a mill, at the time running full speed. Near by was a mill dam, from which a wide race conducted the angry waters down to the wheel. From the bridge, the most beautiful view, looking toward the mill, was obtainable. Below, was spread the blue surface of the Wener, surrounded by banks covered with thriving forests of oak, elms and birches. The setting sun had begun here and there to spread a woof across the sheet of water. Maurits had a book in his hand, the poem of Semiramis, which he was reading with deep satisfac- tion. The story was as follows: When the great and mighty queen of Assyria was yet a child, she dwelt in a shepherd's hut among the mountains. She had been found in the forest and taken in by the shepherds, who looked upon her as a daughter of the gods, wherefore she was regarded 158 THE PLAY OF FATE with deep religious veneration. Meantime, she grew up and became the most beautiful maiden in all Asia. Her beauty seemed to be supernatural. So brilliant indeed was it that no one could endure long to look upon her. It happened one time that while watching her father's flocks, she was fallen upon by a wild ani- mal, and was on the point of being devoured, when a little boy from a neighboring herd chanced that way, and at the moment of her greatest peril, throwing himself upon the animal, succeeded, after a short struggle, in cutting its throat with a dagger. Semiramis, the beautiful daughter of the gods, was saved. The young shepherd vanished into the forest without giving her an opportunity to express her gratitude to her rescuer. Already he loved her, but was too proud to ask a return of his love as a reward for his bravery. He un- derstood too well that she, a daughter of the gods, was born to a more illustrious destiny than that of the wife of a common shepherd. When the king, later on, took her to wife, and she, after his death, became absolute monarch of Asia's most beautiful kingdom; when her way was strewn with good fortune, victories and honors, and millions surrounded'her triumphal chariot, and bowed to her power and beauty, the little boy who had saved her life stood aloof and enjoyed the charm in her eyes, and followed in her path as a faithful dog follows his master, but without crowding himself upon her atten- tion with any thought of presenting the claim: "O, queen, when you were a child I saved your life, I have now come to demand my reward." And when the Amazon queen finally fell by the sword of the Jews, the shepherd boy rushed forward, and, seeing that he THE AMBER HEART 159 could not save her life, drew his dagger, and thrusting it into his heart, fell at the side of her bloody corpse. Silent and unrewarded his life had been, silent and unrewarded he died. This stirring tale the inspired poet had unfolded with a spirit that often brought tears to Maurits' eyes. He did not know which he should most admire, the shepherd, the queen, or the author. "Thus 1 would have acted," said he to himself. "The shepherd was the greatest, the most to be ad- mired, and the bravest of the queen's army, for he con- quered himself, while they only subdued others. Yes, it is Christian-like to sacrifice oneself for a brother. But how much more Christian-like to do it in silence, asking no reward, asking no fame. But more beau- tiful than all is he who sacrifices himself for his ene- mies> returning good for evil. Yes, I believe that, al- though Jacob Kron would teach me the contrary, would teach me to hate. "I cannot hate mankind, for it is in conflict with my nature. I cannot hate the rich, as the unfortunate Jacob would have me. I am poor, it is true, but my industry may one day make me rich. If I swore to hate the rich, I might perhaps swear to hate myself at some future time. "Jacob Kron, your misfortunes have deranged your understanding. Never have I seen it so manifestly as now, after reading this poem. The little herder was also rewarded with ingratitude, was humble, poor } and despised, but he did not hate, he loved only. "Jacob Kron did not believe in God. He told me it was fate that ruled the world. The fate often rep- resented by riches, whose possessors are all influenced by egoism and are void of tenderness. 'Mankind,' l6o THE PLAY OF FATE said he, 'cannot conquer fate; they can only struggle, to fall its victim in the end. There are many doomed to continual want, to misery, crime, and evil, who, however they may strive, can never attain to anything better so long as wealth is permitted to rule in the world; so long as genius, talent, virtue, brotherly love, whose existence cannot be disputed, are allowed to build in peace upon the bridges over the great chasm that separates the hateful child of darkness from the elect, the fortunate.' So said Jacob Kron. I shall never forget it. But can it really be so? That ques- tion I have asked myself in doubt. Can it really be so? "Do egoism, unrighteousness, ingratitude, so ex- clusively rule this social class which Jacob cursed, and which he bound me to hate? I begin to believe the contrary. " At this instant, the reflections of the boy were inter- rupted by a scene upon the highway quite near the place where he had been reclining. An elegant carriage stood at the end of the bridge. From it alighted a gentleman, a middle aged lady, a boy of ten, and a girl of about eight years. "If you wish, Cecilia,' said the gentleman, "we will allow the carriage to go ahead through the village, the scenery hereabout is worth attention " "As you say, my friend," answered the lad}'; "drive ahead slowly, coachman." The carriage proceeded. Maurits, who was concealed by the tree, could eas- ily see what took place on the bridge, and could also hear every word that passed between the gentleman and lady, while he remained entirely out of view. The poor boy felt an involuntary trembling through THE AMBER HEART l6l his limbs, for he thought he recognized the same lady and gentleman by whom he was, four years before, so ill treated. The travelers had, meantime, paused at the middle of the bridge. The lady seemed to be absorbed by the beautiful landscape spread out before her, while her husband, with his cane, pointed out to the boy the churches and estates that were in sight from their position. The little girl was thus left alone. In playful mood, she stood by the hand-rail amusing herself with throw- ing pebbles, which she picked- up in the road, into the water below. The hand-rail was old and rotten, and the little girl throwing her whole weight upon it, in her childish glee, as she watched the rings in the water formed by the falling pebbles, it suddenly broke, and with a half- smothered cry, she fell headlong into the deep current below. "Oh, my God! Isabella! ' screamed the mother, abruptly awakened from her dream by the splash in the water, and staggering, she grasped the remaining portion of the railing for support. Almost upon the instant that the girl fell, the par- ents saw a young boy cast himself from the bank be- low them, and, with bold strokes, swim to the middle of the stream, where Isabella's dark locks appeared above the surface. It was Maurits who, notwithstanding his youth, was a most excellent swimmer, and who now, with noble impulse, experienced the liveliest pleasure in the thought that in such a manner he might be revenged upon the haughty family that had so deeply injured him. 1 62 THE PLAY OF FATE Straining every muscle, the boy forged through the water, and had the good fortune in a few minutes to grasp the hair of the drowning child, and lift her head above the surface. The mother had hastened down from the bridge, and now stood upon the spot just left by Maurits. With anxious eyes she followed trie rescuer in his mighty struggles with the angry current which mo- mentarily threatened to swallow up both him and the child held in his arms. Even the gentleman followed in his wife's footsteps. But, as he could not swim, he remained with eyes steadily fixed upon his child and her young and brave rescuer, making no effort to assist them. He had, meantime, dispatched his son to the mill to borrow a boat, and to bid the miller shut down the flood gate to the race, so that his daughter might not be carried under the mill wheel and so crushed. 1 he boy ran, but before he had covered half the distance to the mill, the mighty waves had dragged the struggling Maurits, still clinging to the girl, out into the middle of the stream and in close proximity to the still rapidly revolving mill-wheel. Maurits battled with the strength of desperation against the current that was carrying him rapidly with it It would have been very easy for the boy to have saved his own life if he would release the burden he held in his arms, whose weight was fast sapping his strength; but that he would not do. He had deter- mined to be crushed with her under the fearful wheel rather than save his own life and allow the poor child to perish. With terrible anxiet)', the mother, in the utmost despair, had thrown herself upon the bank whence her II ! 8 o bJD a THE AMBER HEART 163 eyes followed every movement that Maurits made, while the father seemed to take the matter with exceed- ing indifference. Maurits was now quite near the wheel, and the mill- er had not yet shut down the flood-gate. Another des- perate effort and he had the good fortune to grasp, with his disengaged hand, one of the beams which formed the dam. By this means he succeeded in dragging himself from the raging stream into more quiet water, and at the same instant the miller appeared and dropped the flood-gate, whereupon the torrent was ar- rested. With his arm still wound round the child's waist, Maurits caught the end of a rope thrown to him by the miller. Some laborers were called, and. with their assistance, boy and girl were dragged to the top of the bank. Maurits thanked them, then took the fainting child in his arms and bore it along the river-bank to the parents, who were hastening to meet him On the way, he took a more careful observation of the girl. Her face, white as death, was indescribably beautiful; a smile played around the closed lips, and long, dark locks shaded her white forehead. Maurits had never seen such a surpassingly beauti- ful child, and he pressed her with an almost motherly tenderness against his breast, while with his hands he brushed away the wet locks. The mother had rushed toward him, and met him half way. "My child! my Isabella! Is she dead?" cried she in anguish, taking the girl from Maurits' arms. "I think not," answered Maurits, "her heart is still beating, though weakly." [64 THE PLAY OF FATE "Quick, we must have help," cried the lady, and without a word further, turned and rushed with all speed toward the highway. Maurits remained standing, following her with his eyes. "Not so much as a thank you," muttered he between his teeth. "Jacob Kron was right." He thought of the herder about whom he had so re- cently read in the poem, and the thought gave him courage. He turned away, intending to depart among the trees by a side path. The baron had now overtaken his wile, and both busied themselves in the endeavor to restore their daughter to consciousness. Success at length rewarded their efforts. In a short time, the little girl opened her eyes, when Maurits heard the lady say to her husband: "The boy who pulled her out of the stream, where is he? We must give him something for his trouble." ''You are right," said the baron. Thereupon, turn- ing to Maurits, who was at the point of leaving, he called to. him to come near. Maurits, drawing his wet blouse about him, ap- proached; not for the sake of the reward, but because of a curiosity to hear what the proud gentleman would have to say. "My friend," said the baron, "you have conducted yourself nobly. I owe you my thanks for saving my child. You are poor?" "Yes," said Maurits. The baron took out his purse, the same from which four years before he took a bank-note with which to pay for the tea-cups that his son had broken for the beggar boy, but this time it was not a small bill that the baron drew forth. It was a whole ten riksdaler note. THE AMBER HEART 165 "See here, my friend," said he, addressing Maurits, "take that for your trouble." The boy met his offer with a glance of scorn, at the same time retiring a few paces and crossing his arms over his breast. "Sir," said he proudly, "I did not throw myself into the stream, to later receive alms. I have saved j'our daughter at the peril of my own life, and you have no friendly word of thanks for me. You put me off with a paltry bank-note, without the least notice beyond that. Go, I' will not have your money." "Ye gods! what have we here for an accursed clown!" shouted the baron, white with rage, for the rich always fly into a passion as soon as they notice the least in- clination to independence on the part of one of the lower class. ''Are you too good to take my money, say you? Who the devil are you, then? A disguised prince, maybe," added he, sneeringly. "Who I am does not concern you," broke in Mau- rits, whose anger could no longer be restrained. "One thing only will I say to you. I am the same boy whom you and your son one time struck because I made bold to jump upon the back of your carriage, and whom you on that occasion called a liar and a thief; the same, also, for whom your son, some days later, broke an East Indian porcelain cup which I had offered for sale in order to get my sick mother bread, and which cup you would pay for with twelve shillings. I would not take pay then for an injustice done me. I will much less take it to-day for having done my duty. Farewell, sir," and the youth turned to take his leave. Meantime, Isabella had recovered full consciousness. When she saw that Maurits was about to go, she 1 66 THE PLAY OF FATE sprang from the ground, and threw her delicate arms around his waist as if to detain him. Maurits was moved. He patted the dear child upon the head, then mildly unclasped her arms. "Isabella!" cried the la-dy sharply, "what are you doing! What unbecoming familiarity!" Maurits smiled it was a bitter smile then picking up the book which had been left on the ground, he bowed to the haughty pair and departed, while the baron regarded him with a look of ill-suppressed rage. "What a scoundrel of a boy!" he heard the baron say. To which the lady answered, "Yes, one can't expect better from such inferior people." When Maurits, heartsore, and deeply embittered at the insult he had again suffered at the hands of these aristocrats, whose former affront he had paid w T ith a noble deed, again reached his mother's hut and drew off his dripping wet blouse to hang it before the fire to dry, he noticed that an object, of whose presence he had until now had no knowledge, had become fast- ened in the folds of his clothes. Upon closer inspec- tion he found the article to be a small amber heart mounted in gold, and attached to a black silk ribbon. Surprised, he went to the window in order, by the better light, to examine his unexpected discover)-. Upon the gold mounting he found engraved two let- ters. With some trouble, for the letters were nearly obliterated, Maurits distinguished an I. and an E. nicely engraved in monogram. With lightning flash, the narrative of Jacob Kron in the forest was recalled. Had he not spoken of a similar jewel, inherited from his mother, and bearing the same initials? "Is it possible? Can it be the same?" asked Mau- rits in uncertainty. THE AMBER HEART 167 Should he believe that the gentleman who had so deeply wronged him was the father of the unfortunate Jacob, the same who had caused his son to be thrown headlong down the stairs of his residence, and who proceeded against him and was instrumental in bring- ing him to the whipping-post and to prison? "O, yes," said he to himself. "It is quite probable. His conduct toward me does not challenge the pre- sumption." Maurits was at a loss to know what he should do with his discovery. It was manifest to him that the trinket had hung around the neck of the little girl he had rescued, and that during the long continued bat- tle with the waters, it had become detached from its owner's neck and fastened to his clothes. Should he seek out the haughty baron and return the ornament? He found many reasons which argued that he should do so, but others again persuading him to the reverse. "The sweet little girl has worn this jewel next to her breast," said he, "and how gladly I would retain a memento of her. And, besides, this heart has prob- ably belonged to poor Jacob Kron. It was the only inheritance his mother left him, and he was, by unjust means, deprived of it by his father. It would surely please him to receive it back again if ever I should meet him in my way. Moreover, I do not know the name of the family, I do not even know where they reside, and it would now be useless to endeavor to overtake their carriage. There is thus no other course than to retain the ornament for the present. I will, however, tell my mother about it when she returns home. She shall instruct me what to do." Mrs. Sterner, who had gone to one of the neighbor- ing estates to carry home some completed garments, entered the room at that instant. l68 THE PLAY OF FATE Upon seeing Maurits, his clothes wet through, standing at the window contemplating an object that appeared to her to be a costly article of jewelry, she was greatly surprised and alarmed. "What in the name of the Lord has happened!" she cried, anxiously. "Why is your shirt so wet, and what have you in your hand?" "Sit down, mother, and I will tell you all about it," said Maurits. "It is not so bad as it may seem." Mrs. Sterner seated herself, while Maurits related his adventure, leaving out only the insult and contempt he had suffered. Of Jacob Kron and the relation he believed to exist between him and the amber heart, he said nothing, however, for he had thus far never spoken, not even to his mother, about the meeting in the forest, and the sad history he heard there. This, together with the feelings that had had their beginning therefrom, and had struggled in the child's heart, he had kept cautiously guarded in the depths of his breast. These slumbering feelings were again awakened to activity. Doubt, disquiet, indignation, and bitterness battled anew in his soul, but he would not yet disturb that dearly loved mother therewith. It was the child's heart, it was love's instinct, that restrained him. And it was, maybe, an unconscious necessity that he should struggle and suffer in silence. When Maurits concluded the narration of his advent- tire, shorn of its dangers, Mrs. Sterner drew him to her and pressed him to her breast, shedding tears of tenderness in her mother's pride. "My dear child," said she, "you have risked your life in behalf of those who have done you wrong. That was a great and noble deed. God will reward you therefor. " THE AMBER HEART l6g "Yes, mamma," said the boy bitterly, "I hope so, for from mankind one may expect nothing better than ingratitude and humiliation." "Ah, my dear Maurits," resumed Mrs. Sterner with an angelic smile, 'these people have, without doubt, shown themselves very ungrateful toward you, but you must not judge them too harshly. You must forgive them, however sorely they have wounded you. It is ordained in the world, my son, that prejudice, egoism, and pride must have their representatives, just as gen- erosity, resignation, and meekness. We cannot help that, we can only deplore the fact that it is so. But we must not condemn nor hate. We must show a tolerance, a patience unknown to them, apparently, and we must interpret all for the best, and think, 'they know not what they do.' ' "'Know not what they do!' " cried Maurits in angry tones, "and if the rich, if the exalted do not know bet- ter, how can it be demanded of the poor?" "Because many of these exalted people are reared in a sphere where such prejudices prevail. Therefore* my son, they experience the corrupting influences thrown around them their whole life through. We must remember that and be tolerant therefore in our judgment upon them. It is tolerance, my dear, that divine, that Godlike tolerance that inclines the heart most to our eternal Father, from whom it has its ori- gin. And where do we possess a more beautiful, a more perfect example of tolerance than in that God- begotten founder of our religion, Jesus Christ. We should emulate Him as much as mortals can emulate Deity. It is, indeed, or should be, the aim of our lives. Even He was reviled, wounded, and humbled, but He prayed for His enemies: 'Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.' 170 THE PLAY OF FATE "That is true, mamma," said Maurits, with feeling, "and I would gladly follow His example as you have taught me. O, indeed, I would very gladly love all mankind, and I will endeavor to forget the wrongs that have been heaped upon me. " "Do so, my' son," said the mother, kissing him. "Do so. and you will be a happy and a noble man. Hate hardens the heart, love warms it." "But," added the boy, "I wonder who those people can be. Can you not enlighten me?" "No," answered Mrs. Sterner. "You know I was ill at the time when, four years ago, you met them. I have not been to Liljedahl since, and I have never inquired about the name. It is now too late, for the old Baron Ehrenstam, whose guests they were, is ly- ing in the agonies of death, if he is not already dead, and the people at the mansion have perhaps changed so that no one could inform us who they were." "What then am I to do with this ornament, that has come into my possession in such an extraordinary manner?" "You must keep it for the present," said Mrs. Stern- er, "you may some time in the future find them, v/hen you can return it." "You think, then, that I may keep it for the pres- ent?" asked Maurits, rejoiced. "Yes, surely, my child, I find nothing in the way of your doing so. At any rate, the article is not of great value, and will probably not be missed. If it should be, you can do nothing, for the travelers are already, no doubt, many miles away. Keep it, therefore, until perchance you meet the owner. It will be to you a memento of the little girl you saved, and it may be to her a sign of recognition if you should meet again." THE AMBER HEART IJt Maurits hung Isabella's ornament around his neck, and hid it next his breast. "That shall be my talis- man," thought he. "While I wear it, the good angels will watch over me." The poor boy did not remember that a curse hung over the ornament He forgot its history as Jacob received it in the poor-house, from the dying woman, and that upon her son it had brought misfc r tune and ruin. He had forgotten that, or, rather, he did not think of it, for in his thoughts floated only the image of the lovely little girl who last wore the trinket, and from whose possession it came into his. Summer and autumn passed, and Maurits had not again seen the family. Believing they did not belong to the neighborhood, but were by chance traveling through there, he made no inquiries and, except to his mother, he never mentioned the occurrence in which he had played the leading role. PART II CHRISTMAS EVENING I. AT LILJEDAHL It was Christmas, when from palace to hovel there is festivity. But festivities are very diverse in char- acter. Candelabras are ablaze in the abodes of the rich; the children dance round the sparkling Christmas tree, waiting impatiently for* the costly presents with which parents, brothers, sisters, and friends have loaded it; crystal chandeliers glitter; the ravishing strains of music incite to the whirling waltz; cheeks burn and hearts beat faster with joy, with desire, with hope. The festal board in the great dining-hall groans under its burden of savory dishes; the wines sparkle in crys- tal decanters; silver tankards filled with foaming ale, tempting cakes and other delicacies go the rounds of the assembled guests. But devotion, prayers and thanksgiving, where are they? One may seek them in vain in the shining magnifi- cence of the grand salon. It may be because their guests would blush to throw off their disguises. Feel- ings the holiest, the most pure, how often they must be caged like a bird, and if they soar out, scorn, satire and ridicule, stand ready to clip their wings. Will we be charged with injustice if we venture such an assertion? CHRISTMAS EVENING 175 Well, then, ye of the aristocracy, great and ncble, ye who are surrounded by all that riches and luxury can demand, we ask you: Who of you would dare defy public opinion? Who of you, upon a festal even- ing, when the ball has ended, would dare gather round you the guests and housefolk, and in a com- munion of prayer, call the blessings of the Most High upon the assemblage, send up a grateful thanksgiving to Him who is the giver of all good? Who of you would be at all so inclined? Would you not, if some one should insist upon it as something beautiful, as a duty, with shrug of shoulders answer, "Bah, such childish- ness?" Nevertheless, Christmas is not an occasion for gormandizing, drunkenness, and the dance. In the un- pretentious cottage, the mother by her single light reads aloud from the psalm-book or Bible to a group of children, and the father places one of his few sheaves of wheat upon the fence that even the fowls of the air may be gladdened and say, "This is Christ- mas." At Liljedahl it was also Christmas. We will intro- duce the reader to the grand salon thereof. The lamps have just been lighted. Every apartment gleams with splendor. On a divan sits the lady, carelessly turning over a number of engravings that lie on a table before her. Her toilet is of the choicest. Silks rustle at every movement. The baron is pacing the floor to and fro, while the children gather around the princely yule-table. We need hardly inform the reader that this family, thus presented, is the same whose acquaintance we have already made upon three separate occasions, in which the widow's son, Maurits Sterner, was the most conspicuous personage. 176 THE PLAY OF FATE Baron Ehrenstam had recently taken possession of the estate, his father, the old baron, having died a few months ago at the advanced age of eighty. The present owner had moved down from the capital where he had formerly resided, and had at once established his residence, with his family, upon the magnificent property to which he was sole heir. Colonel Baron Ehrenstam was no longer young. He had seen his fiftieth year and his locks had already begun to show a sprinkling of gray. Years, however, had not at all mellowed his character. He had once before been married, and had a son by his first wife. This son had come to a most unfortu- nate end, and the baron mourned him long and deeply; deeper than one would believe possible for him. He mourned in the deceased the image of himself. He had again married, one of the most illustrious and wealthy ladies of the capital. By her, two chil- dren had been born to him, George and Isabella, the former now ten, and the latter eight years old. Besides these four persons, there was a fifth occu- pant of the salon, to whom we have also introduced the reader. This person was Magister Holmer, who had been George's tutor for a number of years, though God knows his pains had not borne any special fruit. Magister Holmer was thirty years old, and his face, though far from handsome, possessed an indescribable gentleness. Its features, animated by kindness and love, bespoke an indefatigable spirit of inquiry into the things of the world. A melancholy smile often flitted over it; but that smile showed nothing bitter nor dark. Magister Holmer's spirit, noble, sensitive, and devoid of all selfishness, experienced pain as keen at the misfortunes of others as if they had been his CHRISTMAS EVENING 177 own. The melancholy that floated over his features did not, therefore, have its source in his own sufferings and struggles, though even they were not few. It ut- tered only a noble heart's submissive sorrow over the injustices of life, over the perpetual battle between the evil and the good ever prevailing throughout the world. Holmer had always been poor. His parents were peasants, and it was only at the cost of numberless privations that the young man had fought his way up- ward to the position he for the present occupied. Five years ago he had entered the house of the baron as in- structor to the baron's son. His principal, unwilling to lose this zealous young man, whose tireless pa- tience he fully appreciated, had, in order to retain him, bound him by a promise. The promise was, in effect, that alter a certain number of years of service Holmer, with his pupil, should be permitted to go abroad, after which he was to receive the use of a small farm in consideration of his services, said farm to revert to the Liljedahl estate at the death of the baron. By virtue of this agreement, the young man saw his most extravagant hopes in a fair way toward realization. The greatest happiness he had ever allowed his dreams to indulge in was the possession of a quiet little home where he could pass his life in that fascinating employ- ment to which his noble heart had called him an oc- cupation that should, to the utmost of his power, en. able him to carry blessings and comfort to the needy and suffering children of the land. This happiness was now so near that he could patiently endure all the humiliations to which he was so often subjected in that lordly household. Therefore, he strove and la- bored from morn to eve with his dull and ofttimes. 178 THE PLAY OF FATE refractory pupil; therefore he did not allow his pa- tience to desert him at sight of the coldness, the egoism and want of love that ruled in that wealthy and illustrious house. They were, however, long and painful years to the young man. There was only a single gleam of light that made them endurable, and that was the little Is- abella. This little girl had attached herself to her teacher with the deepest manifestations of affection. Often obstinate and self-willed in the presence of her parents, and continually at variance with her brother, she was always compliant and mild when with her teacher, Holmer. He was much interested, therefore, in the upbuild- ing of that soul whose unusual talent he saw with sur- prise, and she would sit at his feet long hours, and read and question with an interest that seemed never to flag. "She shall preserve me unharmed from all that I must surfer," thought he. "Into her I shall pour my soul, and she shall understand me." These thoughts comforted him and nourished in him the hopes of a better future gave him strength to perform his duties. Baron Ehrenstam, as we have said, paced with rapid steps back and forth across the salon, while the bar- oness continued turning over the engravings, and the children amused themselves at the table, and with the thoughts of the Christmas presents they were about to receive. Magister Holmer sat quietly in his corner, buried in the contemplation of the firmament, upon whose deep blue expanse millions o.f stars sparkled. "Cecilia," said the baron, pausing in front of his wife, "I have neglected to say to you that we must CHRISTMAS EVENING 179 have a great dinner next Sunday, and a dance in the evening. Will you attend to the preparations?" "But, my dear Alfred," answered the baroness, "you forget that we are yet in mourning. It is hardly five months since your father died." "Well, what of that? Shall the death of an old man of eighty hinder me from giving a dinner some months later? Nonsense! " "As you will, my friend," .said the baroness, in some astonishment at the stern gaze fixed upon her, "and whom shall we invite?" "Before all, our neighbor, Count Stjernekrantz, who has returned from his many years of travel. It is in reality on his account that I would give the dinner. As for the other guests, I have made a list which I will give you. " "Count Stjernekrantz has then returned?" "Yes, and he now intends to settle down at Odens- vik. I confess," continued the baron with lowered voice, seating himself by the side of his wife, "that I wish to win Count Stjernekrantz over to a scheme I have conceived. " "And what is your scheme?' The baron glanced at Isabella, who at the instant was engaged in a heated dispute with her brother over a ginger-cake which each was claiming, and continued, "I have been thinking of the count as a suitable hus- band for our daughter when she, in a few years, has attained to womanhood. The count is yet quite a young man, only a few and twenty years old, is im- mensely wealthy, and we have, as you know, a corre- spondingly large fortune. We could, at our death, leave Liljedahl to Isabella; that would entirely satisfy the count, since it joins his own estates. l8o THE PLAY OF FATE George can have the estate in Ostergothland, together with the ready money and other personal property I possess, which is estimated at double the worth of Liljedahl. Well, my friend, what say you to my scheme? " "It is very good," answered the baroness, "but do you believe that the count will agree to wait so long? It cannot be sooner than eight or nine years that Isa- bella can become a bride." "Bah!" said the baron with a shrug of the shoulders, "why can he not wait? I shall lay my proposition frankly before him, and I have little doubt that he will accept it. A more promising arrangement for both parties could not well be conceived." The conversation of the parents was interrupted by a loud noise from the corner of the room where the yule-table was standing, to which the eyes of both were turned. Isabella lay prostrate on the floor, for her brother, during the strife for the ginger-snap, had struck his little sister a heavy blow that knocked her headlong off her feet. "What is all this noise about, children!" exclaimed the baron, vehemently. "Can you never learn to agree? Stand up, Isabella." Isabella rose. She shed no tears. No sound of pain escaped her, but her glance met her brother's with an expression of contempt. "Papa!" cried George craftily, "Isabella would take my ginger-snap. She has already eaten hers and now wants mine also." "Come here, Isabella," said the baron severely. The little girl had seated herself upon a footstool in a corner of the salon. She did not move. She an- CHRISTMAS EVENING l8l swered not a word at her father's command, but con- tinued, with her head resting between her hands, to contemplate the floor. "Did you hear what your papa said, my dear?" in- quired the baroness anxiously, for she observed that a storm was approaching. "Isabella," said the baron with affected calmness, "will you obey, and come here?" The same inattention on the part of the child. "Isabella," now said Holmer, with his gentle, per- suasive voice, "why does not Isabella obey her parents? It is very wrong." The girl lifted her head hastily at the sound of that mild voice, and noticed that the teacher's eyes were fastened upon her with an expression of disapproval and reproach. She arose at once, went forward to the sofa, and placed herself silently before the baron, who eyed her with a frown. "Isabella," said he, "why are you so persistently disobedient?" The girl made no answer, but, as it seemed, wholly without fear, steadily returned the glance of her father. "You do not answer me. Young one! " roared he, at the same time grasping the child's arm heavily, "George declares that you would take his ginger-cake, and you are silent." "George lied," answered Isabella. "If true, why did you not say so?" "Because I know that in any case justice will not be done me. " "Do not believe her, papa," George burst forth, "it is she who lies." "Be quiet, boy!" cried the baroness. "Truly a 1 82 THE PLAY OF FATE very elevating scene for Christmas eve. My dear Al- fred," continued she, turning to the baron, "it is pos- sible that Isabella is innocent. Whose was the cake, my little girl, )'ours or George's?" "Mine," answered Isabella. "No, it was mine! " screamed George. "She had alread)' eaten hers." Isabella did not reply, but only looked at her brother from her great dark eyes. George could not endure the glance, and fastened his on the floor. "It is clear that it is the girl who tells a falsehood," the baron exclaimed. "Her silence, her embarrassment, condemn her." "I cannot believe it," said the baroness, trembling at her own temerity, "poor Isabella is surely innocent." "Indeed," said the baron, contracting his brow. "Madame, in her wisdom, believes this, no doubt. " "Mamma may believe what she will," exclaimed George, who with insolence again raised his eyes, "papa believes me, and that is enough." "George," now interposed Holmer, who rose and approached the boy upon whose arm he laid his hand, at the same time gazing earnestly and searchingly into his eyes, "George, it is you who bear false witness. It was not yours. It was your little sister's ginger- cake, I am sure of it." "Yes, Magister is always on the side of Isabella," cried the boy; "but it is papa who rules here." "Here!" said the baron, with a fierce glance at the interlocutor. "When I am present you need not med- dle with the children's conduct and discipline." Again the melancholy smile played over the face of the young man. With a sigh he answered gently and earnestly: CHRISTMAS EVENING 183 "I tnought to do right, Herr Baron. I would hinder your doing what seemed to me an injustice. " "What seemed to you!" answered the baron. "Is it then so certain that you always see the right?" "Certainly not. But " "Herr Magister, " resumed the baron harshly, "your business, as custos momm, is confined to the hours of study, and the hours during which we ourselves can- not have supervision over the children. Do not for- get that. " Holmer made no reply, but casting a sorrowful glance at poor Isabella he returned to his place at the win- dow. "Isabella, >; resumed the baron severely, "you are an obstinate and headstrong child. Be careful; I will not be played with. If I did right, you should not have any Christmas presents whatever. ' "My dear Alfred," said the baroness with trembling voice, "you are too severe, and you do not really know who is guilty. " "Do I not? I know that you have spoiled this girl, and that you have made her an insolent and headstrong young one. Go, Isabella, find a seat and be quiet. We will discuss this further at another time. " Isabella retired to Holmer, sat down by his side, and with tear-brimming eyes looked up into the face of her beloved teacher. "It was my cake, ' she whispered softly. "You be- lieve me, don't you?" "Yes," answered the teacher in like manner, stroking the dark locks from the little white forehead. Isabella bent her head upon his knee and wept. "Do not weep, my little angel," said Holmer kindly; "I'll relate a pretty saga for you in the morning." 184 THE PLAY OF FATE "Ah, so good!" said Isabella, drying her tears. "May I come to you in the forenoon?" "Yes, yes, and I will show you a new book with pictures in it." The little girl bent forward and kissed his hand. A general silence prevailed among the other persons present. The baron traversed the room back and forth unceasingly, uttering no word, or sound, but a sigh sometimes, showing plainly that he was sorely dis- turbed. "This cursed country," he mumbled with set teeth. "Why did I move from Stockholm to breathe the country air, and repair my health? Bah! I wouldn't give a doit for the whole land!" Again a sigh. "Hear me, my friend," continued he aloud to his wife, "play something cheerful for me. It will take me back to my happier days." The baroness arose, went to the beautiful Vienne piano and struck a few chords. After a short prelude, she began one of the latest compositions, grand, artis- tic, and cold. "That will not do!" cried the baron angrily. "A little dance music if I may be pleased." "It were better that you go down and get the list of guests you wish invited for next Sunday^" said the baroness. "It would be quite interesting to learn what sort of people we have for neighbors. You know that the greater number of them are yet personnes in- con nues to me." "That I can do,' 1 said the baron. "Let us have tea afterward, then the distribution of presents, and have done with this blessed evening.' The baron went downstairs to his own room, which CHRISTMAS EVENING 185 was on the lower floor. Here, after some search, he found the sought for list, and, with it in hand, re- turned to his wife. At the same instant that the baron left his room and entered the clearly-lighted hall, the door leading from it to the garden was suddenly opened, admitting a second person. This being was a ragged beggar, upon whose pale, sunken face want had impressed its ineffaceable stamp. A mass of long, red hair fell down over his lean neck, and a wild, burning glance gave to his whole appearance something terrible. The baron recoiled at sight of the dreadful figure, clad in misery's uniform. The great man paused, and looked fiercely at the beggar. "What do you want here?" cried he finally. "Do you tnink the doors of my residence are open to such trash?" A scornful smile flitted across the lips of the beggar, but he quickly concealed it, and exclaimed, with plead- ing voice and suppliant bow: "Sir, it is Christmas. All are rejoicing, happy, con- tented, except me. I have no home, not where to lay my head, nor to spend this holiday; not a piece of bread with which to still my hunger; no clothes to shield me from the cold." "What does that concern me?" shrieked the baron, violently. "To the devil with you! Do not incite me to violence, and do not again disturb me with your lamentations," and turned to go, when the beggar rushed forward, grasped him by the arm and burst forth: "O, have mercy! have pity! Give me some old I 86 THE PLAY OF FATE clothes; give me to eat, and let me spend my Christ- mas eve among your servants, noble sir, else I shall perish of cold, for I know not where I may find shelter. " "Creature, unhand me!" shouted the baron, thrusting the beggar to one side. "Out upon you!" continued he, brushing his coat-sleeve with a handkerchief, "that such a bundle of rags should touch my clothes! Spend Christmas among my servants, indeed! Did ever man hear the like! Thank you kindly. Spend Christmas under my roof in order that you may avail yourself of the opportunity to rob me, perhaps. Get you to the devil!" "Rob }ou," exclaimed the beggar, with a contempt- uous smile, still in humble tones. "O, do not think that. I am poor, but I am honest." "You honest!" interrupted the baron with a smile of scorn, and in a manner that showed clearly how unreasonable he thought such an assertion. "O, sir, be compassionate!" continued the beggar pleadingly. "Think in your abundance of those who are suffering. Have you no heart that may be moved by their need?' 1 "A heart," said the baron scornfully; "no, my boy, I am not troubled with such a childish thing. And what would it serve me to show sympathy for such vagabonds and knaves as you? A prison is the proper place for you. Out of my sight!" "Sir, think what you do. God will one day punish you." "That is my affair. March, now!" And the baron opened the hall door, grasped the beggar by the arm, and would hustle him out. But the latter caught hold of the door, .pushed the baron away, and standing with one foot on the threshold, the other on the step, coolly addressed the baron. CHRISTMAS EVENING 187 "'Baron Alfred Ehrenstam, you are not a man, but a wild animal. Curses upon you! You shall one day regret this hour. Remember your son who was mur- dered, and him whose happiness you slew, wretch." And before the baron could gather his breath for a reply, the beggar was gone. "Was that he? Could it have been he?" said the baron, passing his hand over his brow. "Well, if so be, what does it matter to me?" And with the invi- tation list to the great dinner in his hand, the baron slowly ascended the broad and beautiful stairway leading to the upper apartments. Later in the evening, beautiful presents were brought in for the baroness and the children. The former re- ceived a costly jeweled watch, and Isabella a throat ornament to replace the lost amber heart. II. CHRISTMAS AT ODENSVIK We hasten through the park separating Liljedahl from Odensvik, to the latter place to observe how Christmas is being spent there. Introduced to the count's bedchamber, on the lower floor, we find it a large and uncommonly pleasant room, lighted by twenty or more wax candles, its walls hung full of pict- ures, weapons, shells, books, works of art and curios- ities of many kinds, and on every hand. Count Eberhard has returned from the continent. Having tired of travel, he has determined to remain at home at his beautiful Odensvik, relieving the mo- notony now and then by a visit to the capital. A sound of gayety is wafted to us from the aforemen- tioned chamber. The count has a number of guests, I 83 THE PLAY OF FATE young men, as himself, gay, frivolous, reckless vaga- bonds, with no home to entice them, no special sphere of activity. The count has invited them to a banquet and card-part}'. The count and M. Crispin, who has returned with him to Sweden, and with whose com- panionship he can no longer dispense, are both very fond of high playing. It gives a feverish stimulation to the shattered nerves. It is the means which still has the power to keep up the tension of an enfeebled mind. The play has not yet begun, but all is ready in a large, elegantly furnished room adjoining the bed- chamber. Lieutenant U , one of the guests, has will- ingly undertaken to brew the punch, into which, at Eberhard's suggestion, he has poured also two bottles of champagne. Lieutenant X is arranging the card- table in front of the sofa, while Baron Y is warming himself at. the stove, wherein a cheerful fire is crack- ling. Upon a sofa in the bedchamber Eberhard is sitting and beside him Crispin. Eberhard and the French- man are conversing in an undertone, now and then in- terrupted by some question, a call, or an incursion from the other room. "The Christ, yes," said Crispin, in answer to a pre- ceding observation by Eberhard. "He was, without doubt, one of the greatest geniuses who ever lived on earth, if his history is regarded in any other light than myth. One sees through his whole life, in his every utterance, the effort to make himself popular, and in that respect no one has been so fortunate as he. It is quite true that he brought upon himself the hatred of the Biblical scholars, of the high priests and guard- ians of the temples; but such is the unavoidable fate CHRISTMAS EVENING 189 of every demagogue. As in all times before, liberal- ism relied upon concentrating upon Christ, so to speak, its struggle to maintain itself against the reac- tionists, against the conservative element whose rep- resentatives were Jewish priests. The latter won a temporary triumph, and the Master was nailed to the cross; but his ideas went victoriously on. Why? Be- cause they were divine, it is said. Bah! No! But because they were purely human. Because they pre- sented an idea, a conception of life which in a higher degree than any other impressed the masses moved the simple and ignorant multitude who feel more than they think. When I was a child, I too was swayed by my sensibilities; Christianity was to me a palladium; but since I have gone through life's school, and have been changed from a sentimental fool to a thinker, I have found that I was paying homage to a beautiful pretense, at which my intelligence revolted. I discov- ered this, having seen that love, the love preached by Christ, does not rule the world, but that egoism reigns supreme; that it alone goes victoriously on with gold, talent, and genius as confederates. And I have seen this omnipotent egoism hold the masses in check by the simple force of piety and religious fervor which has always been a formidable weapon in their hands. I have heard the priests thunder from the pulpit against infidelity and sin. I have seen them immediately after, with a scornful grin, thrust the penitents' offerings into their pockets. These things have impelled me to abandon the ensign of love, so- called, to do homage to egoism. I know full well, however, that we made a mistake when, during the revolution's greatest fury, we abolished religion in France, for a rabble without religion is not easily con- trolled." igO THE PLAY OF FATE "Mon cher Eberhard," called Lieutenant U from the other room, "have done with your philosophizing. Come here and taste the punch. It is superb." "Good! I'll come at once." "And the card-table is in readiness," shouted Lieu- tenant X . The count and the Frenchman rose and repaired to the other room, where Lieutenant U already had their glasses filled in waiting. "Gentlemen," said the count, taking up a glass, "our manner of spending Christmas is, without doubt, the most delightful. I propose a toast to the goddess of pleasure, My whole life, thus far, has been spent in her pursuit, and even to-day she is here to bestow upon me a happy hour in my old fatherland, from which I have so long strayed as a stranger among the vine-clad hills of the sunny south. Last Christmas I spent in Naples. It was an exhilarating life. Gay, fiery, voluptuous senoras gave me a foretaste of the golden goblet where lachryma christi sparkles. To- day I am again within the circle of the friends of my boyhood, who have not forgotten me, and even here are goblets, cards, and women. While life lasts, these things to command, why should we complain? May our pleasures be long continued, gentlemen." The toast was drank with enthusiasm, though the speaker's constantly gloomy features made a disagree- able impression upon more than one of the company, who felt it to be in too great contrast with the cheer- fulness that the words implied. "And now to work," cried Baron Y , at the same time breaking open a pack of cards. "Life is short, but art long, therefore there is no time to waste, gen- tlemen." CHRISTMAS EVENING IQl "You are right, i/ion frerc," said the count, with an effort at a smile that gave his face anything but a pleasant expression, "let us take our place's." The players seated themselves, cards were drawn, and the queen of spades fell to the count's lot, where- fore Crispin became his partner. Lieutenant U drew a king, which left him out of the first hand. While the others played, he took from the library shelf an old book, and seating himself before the fire, began to read. It was Cre"billon, the younger's, "Sofa, " one of the most frivolous romances that ever appeared from the French press. " Marbleu, M. Crispin," exclaimed the lieutenant, after a time, "your countryman, Crebillon, was a clever fellow. " "Bah!" answered the Frenchman. "With us his ro- mances have long ago been relegated to the nursery. Mon dial, Eberhard, did you take my king? You must be well supplied with trumps." "Pardon me, mon c/ier, it was a mistake." "Six tricks and four honors! " said Baron Y . "Eight and the rubber makes twelve points. Throw 3 ; oiir Crdbellon into the corner, mon frere, and come here and draw. The hand is closed." "Let us not forget the bowl, gentlemen," cried Eb- erhard; "a glass to drown our ill luck, Crispin. A com- plete sweep! That is outrageous!" : 'It is your fault," said Crispin; "why did you take my king?" Eberhard made no reply, but filled to the brim a glass of punch, conveyed it to his lips and emptied it in one breath. "Let us sing," cried he. "A quartette!" "Good!" was the answer, "but what shall we sing?" 1 92 THE PLAY OF FATE "We have a member of a former Jacobin club with us," said X ; "I say, then, let us have the Marseil- laise." "Cest bon," said Eberhard; "aliens, enfants." The Marseillaise was sung, to the no little pleasure of the Frenchman, who was enraptured with the wild tones of that fearful song at which the thrones of Europe trembled, and kings' heads had fallen under the guillotine. "Now, again to the game!" This time Eberhard was out of the game, and while the others played he drank, drank copiously, without showing any signs thereof. More than once, Crispin fastened his dark, piercing eyes upon the count, and smiled fiendishly when he saw him wildly dash one glass after another down his threat. " Citoycn, " whispered Y to the Frenchman, "I fear that our charming host is drinking more than he can carry. I notice he is pouring glass after glass into himself." "Do not be alarmed," replied Crispin, softly, "he can drink gallons without the least effect." And so it was, indeed. The count did not become at all intoxicated, but only what is termed cheerful. The gloom that usually overspread his marble-cold features vanished, as the wine took effect, as if to give place to gayety, assuming to his guests a cast strange, unnatural and awful. Lieutenant X , perhaps the least depraved of the company, could not avoid a slight shudder every time his eyes fell upon the count. He seemed to have al- most penetrated to the very depths of the man's soul. Meantime, the orgies continued. The count expe rienced the most exasperating luck the whole evening. CHRISTMAS EVENING IQ3 but seemed rather exhilarated than depressed thereby. When the playing ceased, and the bowl was almost empty, he arose smilingly and paid his debt such a considerable sum that many needy families might have subsisted upon it the whole winter. "Supper is waiting, gentlemen," said he. "I have saved a pleasant surprise for you, a little feast for the eyes for a Christmas-box. Come and see." Actuated by the liveliest curiosity, all the friends followed the young man to the festal bedecked dining- hall. And see, it was truly a surprise of surprises. At one end of the table, sumptuously laden with the choicest delicacies, stood a young and lovely maiden, clad with exquisite elegance, according to the latest Parisian style. Gorgeous as arose, ripened under the southern skies; with dark, languishing, half closed eyes, and cheeks upon which the fine purple blood tinted the most beautiful lilies, the lady seemed to the entering guests like a vision of the highest type of beauty that Italy's balmy climate, or Hesperia's glowing sun, could possibly produce. Overcome by admiration, and with covetous glances devouring the ideal figure, the young men paused at the door as if sun-blind, shading their eyes with their hands. "Angela," said the count in French, 'allow me to present these three oi my boyhood friends, Baron Y Liuetenants U and X The young lady gave a bewitching turn of her little head, while two small and most lovely dimples were formed on her cheeks. "1 hope," resumed the count, "that as a good hostess, you will do the honors for my guests. Charles," con- 194 THF rl - AY OF FATE tinued he, turning to a servant, "have you brought out the Christi Lachryma wine, as I commanded?" "Yes, Herr Count," answered the servant, "the four bottles are here in the ice reservoir on the buffet." "To the table then, gentlemen," said the count. The host and his four guests seated themselves. Angela presided in the seat of honor with Crispin on her right and Baron Y on her left. The latter was quite light-headed at his neighbor's fascinating beauty. "O, what a lucky dog the count is," thought he, every time Angela turned toward him her lovely head poised upon that fine, supple, plastic and beautiful swan-like neck. The conversation was carried on exclusively in French which language Angela, though herself Italian, spoke fluently. Witty, lively, facetious repartee was ex- changed among the gay guests, champagne foamed, and the intoxicating bead of tKe Christi Lachrynuc wine finally crowned the brilliant feast. The young Italian's cheeks glowed like the dark grapes from her fatherland, those grapes upon volcan- ic ground, fed by an internal fire like that which blazed within the swelling bosom of that enchanting south- erner. Her conversation became more lively, her sallies quicker, more .flashing, more genial, and to the enamored guests, the hours of that night, the night when the Madonna swathed and laid down the Divine Chi'ld in the manger of Bethlehem, flew like seconds. "Beautiful senora," said Baron Y , as he filled his neighbor's glass and his own with foaming champagne, "allow me to drink your health. It is the cold north- man, who, set aglow with the fire that fills the south- erner's soul, clashes his glass with yours, his glass CHRISTMAS EVENING 195 filled with the nectar of the south, to testify here upon this ancient ground, covered during eight months with ice and snow, his admiration for you, whose beautiful fatherland knows of snow only by name. With the ex- ception of that snow," added he aside, "that trembles under that enviable silk." Angela smiled, touched her glass to her neighbor's and emptied its fiery juice to the last drop. "The cold northman, " repeated she thereafter; "no, Monsieur Le Baron, do not say so. I was born by Gar- gliona's banks, but I venture to declare that warmer hearts do not beat there than are to be found in the tradition rich regions of the Maler and Wener. " "You flatter the Swedes, beautiful Angela," said Crispin; "we call them the French of the north; but that is a phrase that will bear explaining. In luxury, in enjoyment and extravagance, they will surely com- pare with us, but when it comes to strength and deeds, they are more lethargic and prudent." "Oh, you men of deeds!" said Angela with a jerk of the head; "you are intolerable with your boasting. You have drenched your beautiful fatherland with streams of blood, and set a whole world in flames, and wherefore? For that wretched ambition which, in your own conceit, has made you the world's first nation. And since you have burned the temples of liberty and peace, you stand in transport by the side of the smok- ing ruins clapping your hands and shouting, like Herodotus: 'See, this have we done for our immor- tality.'" Crispin laughed, but resumed: <: You forget the ideas, senora. We have, at least in the beginning, struggled for that exclusively, though the mighty waves of the giant tide of human events dragged us with them." ig6 THE PLAY OF FATE "Ideas!" cried Angela vehemently, "out upon your ideas. It was egoism and self deification that im- pelled you, though I will grant that now and then there was an honorable fool among you who sacrificed himself for the idea's sake. But the mass, as a whole, were led blindly by their passions, and by demagogues who cleverly understood how to rouse, to fire, to quench and to make use of them to the attainment of their own ends. And while you dragged your triumphal car through the streets of Paris with a ragged banner, on which one read the words Libertt, Egalitt, Frater- nitc, you put the whole world into shackles, and offered the noblest blood upon the scaffold. No, I cannot bear to think of your revolution; it is more than calamitous." "The devil! You are an excellent little politician, beautiful senora," said Lieutenant X smiling. "Your health for your defense of the Swedish nation against that cunning Frenchman." Angela laughed and drank. "You have also been well punished," continued she, turning tc Crispin. 'If you had not been entirely blinded by self love, there would have been no i8th of Brumaire, and if you had understood how to develop liberally and opportunely the opinions that you pro- claimed to the astonished world with such rashness, Napoleon would not have ridden over your country in his car of triumph, nor the Bourbons have taken again their tarnished throne. Then the French republic would still have existed, and you would have marched justly in the van of civilization, whereas you have frittered away all the fruits of the revolution, and now sigh under a yoke far more intolerable than before. All this demonstrates that you are great in words and CHRISTMAS EVENING IQ7 headstrong in action, in which, in distinction from the Swedes, you always advance backwards." "That was fate," said Crispin laughing. "We are all its playthings." "Enough of this; you are carrying the thing altogether too far," interrupted Count Eberhard, raising his glass at the same time with tragio-comic despair; "who is the wretch that led the conversation into politics? He should, at least, be made to drink a mug of water in punishment. " "The devil take me; it was I," said Crispin smiling. "It was I, but spare me this time from the punish- ment." "For how long," asked Lieutenant U , "may our cold land be permitted to retain you as a guest, beau- tiful senora? You are, no doubt, sometimes seized with a longing for home, such as is spoken of in that beautiful song composed by one of your countrymen, 'Soderlandskan I Norden.'" "Next spring," answered Angela, "I shall return to Milan, among whose lyrists I am appointed prima donna. It was for the most part curiosity to see the fatherland of Carl the XII that induced me to visit Sweden with my friend, Count Stjernekrantz. " "Ah, you are a songstress," burst forth Baron Y delighted. "What a heavenly pleasure it would be to listen to a song from your rosy lips." "Who could refuse such a noble cavalier anything?" said Angela, with a smile of satire. "After supper I shall have the honor of singing to the accompaniment of my harp one of Petrarch's sonnets." "Delightful!" cried Crispin; "I am sure you are as great a songstress as politician." "And I am sure that you are a greater gormand than 198 THE PLAY OF FATE anything else," replied Angela, with a side glance at the Frenchman's frequently replenished plate. "Mean- time, we may resume our topic." "No, peace! peace!" cried Crispin, touching glasses with her. "France and Italy rest in peace, and you, gentlemen, must ratify the terms thereof." "And the terms?" inquired the count, smiling. "France," resumed Crispin, "recognizes Italy as an independent republic governed by its own laws, and with its own inherent rights. And now comes the worst, France acknowledges Italy's supremacy, prom- ising fealty and homage the most sublime." "A la bonne heure," cried Angela joyously; "the con- ditions of peace are accepted. There is just one thing lacking. " "And it is ?" "France," pursued the Italian, "acknowledges itself vanquished in the struggle. Not by the power of beauty, but by the power of truth. It acknowledges itself felled with its own weapon." "The devil take you!" said Crispin, smiling. "You are an unreasonable, beautiful Circe! But so be it. For the sake of peace I will accept even that humiliating condition." "More Lachrymce Christi," cried the count, now actu- ally gay, addressing a servant. The corks flew to the ceiling, the sparkling wine foamed in the glasses, and, with merry laughter, all drank to the peace which was on all sides ratified. The guests rose from the table, and at a sign from Eberhard, a servant hastened to a side room to bring Angela's harp. Angela sang. She sang some of those charming, love glowing songs that the fragrant southern night breezes sang for the burning Tasso, the inspired Petrarch. She sang in wonderful tones. Harmonies full of pathos and longing fell upon the ears of the listeners, causing their hearts to tremble with pleas- ure, with pain. And the glittering strings of the harp sprang as things alive under fingers as white as the snow on the top of the Appenines Tones, now melt- ing to a low whisper like the sigh of the dying echoes among the mountains; now like the rustle of the sum- mer breezes among the flowers of the meadow; again strong, bold, ringing, like the decoy bird in the southern paradise; yet again ringing like the northern throstle in the pine top, streamed in quivering, vibrat- ing waves from the lips of the wonderfully beautiful songstress. As she now sat, with her raven locks sweeping like a cloud over her lily-white shoulders, her eyes burning with the holy fire of inspiration, she seemed like an embodiment of the spirit of that glo- rious song which is breathed over the Arno's, the Tiber's, and Gargliano's banks. The song ended, but the listeners remained motion- less as before, with bated breath, speechless, listening with eyes immovably fastened upon the object of their admiration, their adoration. Count Eberhard stood leaning against the table with his arms folded over his breast, his dark eyes fixed upon the singer. When Angela had concluded, she arose from the di- van. Her eyes met Crispin's, and a hasty glance, such as is seen nowhere else than in Paris or Italy, was interchanged between them. The count did not notice this. He seemed to be buried in his dreams. "Have you ever heard anything to compare with this?" whispered Baron Y to the enchanted Lieu- tenantX . 2OO THE PLAY OF FATE "No, the devil take me if I ever did!" "I would be contented to give up ten years of my life if but for ten hours I could call that woman mine. What a paradise, what heavenly bliss!" "Hush, Eberhard may hear us." "Oh, no, he is wholly occupied in contemplating her. But see what a dark glance he has fixed upon her. It seems to me the friend of our boyhood looks dejected. He never appears just right now a-days. " "I have long thought so," whispered X . 'There must be some deep affliction that is gnawing him. May be his beautiful Angela wants to desert him. If so, I do not wonder at his gloomy looks." "But where and how did he come across such a treasure? " "Bah! he is rich, and with money one can have any- thing he desires. If I possessed a million, I would spend half of it in the effort to allure that siren away from him." "It is late, we must go," said Lieutenant U ap- proaching the speakers. The guests took their leave, and set out on their different ways, after kissing Angela's hand, and thank- ing her for the enjoyment her talent had afforded them. Crispin retired to his room, after exchanging with Angela another glance full of significance, and a good- night hand-shake with the count. Eberhard and the songstress were alone. "O Angela!" cried the count passionately, throwing his arms around her neck, "how beautiful you are! I love you!" and drawing her to him, was about to kiss her. "Not now. Good night," and turning away, she started to leave the room. CHRISTMAS EVENING 2OI But the count rushed forward, caught her by her dress, and cried: "O Angela, let me follow you." She turned her beautiful face toward him; a smile of mocking contempt for a second distorted her lips, but this the count did not notice. "Eberhard," said she, "I was too weak, too pliant, when I followed you to this frosty land, and, too late, I have repented it. You must return me soon to my fatherland. " "You do not love me, then!" cried the count in tones of agony. "You fool!" said the bewitching woman, brushing the locks from his forehead and looking him in the eye; "did I not love you more than my fatherland when I deserted it to follow you? But there is a limit tc everything. Take me back to Milan, and remain there with me. Love freezes here in the north." "O, do not say so, you make me wretched! " Eber- hard burst forth, pressing her closely to his breast. "Take my life, my possessions, take all that you will, but only love me, Angela." "How many women have heard these same words from your lips, Eberhard?" said Angela. "You are not to be depended upon. " "I swear that I have never loved any one half so much as you," cried the count earnestly. "You alone have understood how to infuse into my soul a flame that consumes me, that threatens to deprive me of my senses. " "Good! I will believe you. But now, good night." "Angela," cried the count, throwing himself upon his knees at her feet, "why this cruel coldness? O, let me go with you!" "Very well, come then," said the siren, after a mo- ment's hesitation, reaching him her hand. 202 THE PLAY OF FATE Eberhard sprang up and followed her. III. AT THE PARSONAGE Let us turn from the salons of the gentry. We have seen their manner of celebrating Christmas, we will now go to another home. In the little dining-rcom of the parsonage the candles were not yet lighted, but a cheerful fire blazed in the fireplace, and around it all the members of the family had assembled. The baking, the brewing, the slaughter, and the attendant bustle is over. The busy and clever house- wife has been flying around the house for a whole week, arranging, planning, scolding the maids and the men; molding candles, brewing ale and other drinks, sweep- ing and dusting in preparation for the great festival. But it is now finished, and we find her, with genuine complacency, seated at the side of her husband, sur- rounded by all of her children, for even Oscar has come home to spend Christmas with his beloved par- ents. She looks around her on all sides, and behold, every preparation has been made, everything is well done. The four girls, Marie, Louise, Lotta and Ulla, full of love, press around their father's knees while Oscar sits upon a footstool at his mother's feet, and is giving her an account of all the beautiful things he has seen in Gothenburg, his diligence and liking for the work that his good parents have allowed him to choose. Everything betokens the utmost peace and content in that poor priest's family. Mrs. Bergholm herself is CHRISTMAS EVENING 203 in an unusually mild and amiable humor, and shows not the least inclination to oppose her husband, who, with pipe in mouth, smokes and spits, and looks su- premely satisfied and happy. "Brita, " said the pastor, blowing a mighty cloud of smoke into the face of his wife, "have you done as I directed in relation to poor old Stina, Lisa and her sick daughter?" "Yes, my dear Bergholm. I have sent them fresh bread, a candle, and two sausages. But Greta had no wood, and was on the verge of freezing; I have, there- fore, sent her a few sticks, and some warm food. Was that right?" "Yes, my dear wife," answered the pastor. "We ought, while we can, to help those who are more needy than we. But it is deplorable that the rich gentlemen at Liljedahl and Odensvik have not . done the least for their poor tenants. They allow them to starve without troubling themselves about them. If it could ever be that the}' come to church I would give them a sharp warning from the pulpit. Have not those poor old women, of whom we have spoken, some claim to as- sistance, when their husbands, through their whole lives, drudged on the great estates like slaves? But perhaps the count and baron do not knew their con- dition. One ought then to call their attention to it." "Yes, it would be worth the while," said Mrs. Berg- holm, "when they have barely time to attend to their pleasures, much less to think about the needy. It is as you say, both a sin and a shame that they are so uncharitable. " "Yes," said the pastor, "but I will wake them up both at Liljedahl and at Odensvik, and I will say to those gentlemen that the Lord did not give them such 204 THE PLAY OF FATE unlimited wealth to be consumed in such idle pleas- ures, but to care for the needy. I shall tell them this without fear or favor. ' "And they would laugh in your face, my dear man," said Mrs. Bergholm. "No, let the rich- take care of themselves." "Brita, " resumed the pastor seriouslyj "it is my duty as a saver of souls, to exhort these gentlemen to be humane. There is not in all Wermland an estate where the distress and wickedness are so great as among the dependents of Count Stjernekrantz and Baron Ehrenstam. The count has recently come home from his travels, and ought-to be informed of the act- ual condition of things on his estate, where the steward, an industrious, but hard taskmaster, has here- tofore managed as he saw fit. It was otherwise during the former count's days at Odensvik. There was a man whom one could honor. He himself attended to the cultivation of his lands and the people found work. They also found to eat, and when an old cottager died his wife and children were cared for. O, hew many have suffered misfortune by that nobleman's death! The son does not seem inclined to follow in the foot- steps of his father, therefore the young man should be warned. But ought we not to light the candles on the Christmas tree now so that the children may enjoy it, wife? Ulla, my chick, tell Stina to come in and light the candles." All four children, Marie, Louise, Lotta, and Ulla, rushed, with these words, to the kitchen, each trying seemingly, to outscream the other. "Stina, come in and light the candles on the yule tree! Come at once! O. so jolly!" The pine was soon aglitter, and was placed in the CHRISTMAS EVENING 2O5 middle of the floor, where it was inspected and admired by all. Oscar particularly was almost beside himself with joy. "Now let us dance around it," cried Lotta, eagerly. "Come, papa, come, mamma, you must dance with us." And the parents were dragged into the dance by the noisy children despite the opposition of the pastor. It did not avail him. Louise caught him by one coat- flap, Oscar by the other, and the rest pushed him for- ward from the rear. Mrs. Bergholm laughed at the pastor's comical manifestations of distress, and when he begged her assistance against the little heroines, instead of helping him, she laughingly took their part and grasped him by the arm. "Children! Brita! " cried the pastor, laughing and scolding at the same time; "are you wholly possessed? Do you want to tear me to pieces? Now! now! now! now ! let me go!" "No, papa must dance," shrieked all at once jubi- lantly. "It will do papa good to dance once." Resistance was unavailing. The pastor was forced, nolens volens, and soon the whole family was swinging lustily around the Christmas tree, Our staid philosopher was as clumsy as a bear, but he was pleased to see the children happy, and would, therefore, no longer hold back. "There, now, young ones," shouted he, finally, puff- ing and wiping the perspiration from his forehead, "that is enough. Dance yourselves, now, I cannot go a step further. " And the pastor went back to his seat by the fire- place, while the mother and children for a time con- tinued the dance, for which Marie, who had an excellent voice, sang: 2O6 THE PLAY OF FATE "Deep, deep valleys and mountains high, Here are friends that me delight. Skip, hop, my little sugar-top; We will dance till the sun comes up." Meantime, the girls had not noticed that Oscar had stolen away in the midst of the exciting whirl, and not until the dance was finished was he missed. "Where has Oscar gone?" shouted Marie. "Did you see him when he went out, girls?" No one knew. All wondered and guessed and con- jectured. Finally the door opened, and the girls screamed with joy and fright, for through the entrance sprang a buck goat with horns, and very respectable horns they were, too. Nothing was wanting in the make-up, even to the woolly coat, and it trotted in on four feet, though somewhat clumsily. Upon the horns hung a basket filled with various well-sealed packages. "It is surely brother Oscar!" shouted little Ulla, throwing up her hands in delight. "Oh, see! he is coming here! He will butt me! Help me, sisters!" But the sisters laughed, sprang upon the terrible buck, and snatched the basket from his horns. The buck made a vigorous lunge, rushed around the room, and wound up by giving Mrs. Bergholm a lusty buck in the back. Whereupon, vanishing through the door, he was not seen again; but almost immediately Oscar reappeared, and laughingly declared, upon his sisters questioning him, that he had not seen any four- footed animal whatever. The Christmas packages were now opened, and the presents exposed to view. CHRISTMAS EVENING 2OJ Has the reader ever seen children on' such an occa- sion? Ah, what memories! lightsome, cheering, fresh as springtime. There were no costly presents here; no glittering ornaments met the gaze of the little Bergholms; but every gift, however insignificant, was received, never- theless, with storms of rejoicing, with the most vocif- erous and hearty gratitude. Children's books for the younger ones; some good German and French works for Marie; a vest for Oscar; a doll for Ulla, and similar trinkets, such as parents and brothers and sisters, without a considerable ex- pense, could give each other; at the same time, so magnificent in the eyes of the recipients as to occasion the utmost delight. The father received from Oscar a superb copy of Vergilii Opera, which the boy had purchased with his spare money at an auction in Gothenburg. Oscar had often heard his father express a desire for the work, and his joy was unbounded when he saw how pleased the good pastor was with the doubly dear present. "You have really done me a great pleasure, mi file, " exclaimed he, patting Oscar on the shoulder; "that is a rare book, and how beautifully it is bound." "Yes," said Oscar, "but I got it at a very good price, for in Gothenburg they dp not care for Latin, and there were, therefore, no bids against me. But in the morn- ing Maurits must come, papa, so that he, who thinks so much of Virgilius, may also enjoy the book. Oh, how I long to see him again. Has he grown much?" "Yes," said the pastor, "he is now large and strong. But you may see for yourself to-morrow afternoon. I had invited him here this evening, but he would re- main home, wirh his mother, the good boy. Mrs. 208 THE PLAY ()!' FATE' Sterner seems to be getting feeble again. Poor woman, she will work herself to death for her son." "And no one offers her any assistance?" "She will not accept it, my boy. That woman is one of those sensitive, honorable and proud creatures, who would rather perish in poverty and want than be under obligations to anybody. Hitherto, she has managed to get along with what she received for her work, though I am certain it has often gone hard with her. But on this point she will give no one her con- fidence. Silently and unobserved she suffers and is wasting away, and if she is allowed to live until her son's education is completed, she will be ready to die without a murmur, for he is the one object for which she lives and struggles. Oh, she is a noble woman! A most admirable mother! " "And Maurits?" asked Oscar; "he is the same, lean believe. The same good, devoted, childlike disposi- tion; the same industry and the same aptness in Latin." "Touching the latter," said the pastor smiling, "he has in it, as in all else, made great progress. His affection for his mother, his uprightness and devotion are the same, so that I have the best reasons for being pleased with my pupil, and there are also times when the poor bo)' causes me pain." "How so, papa?" "I have seemed to notice lately that in that fiery, knowledge hungry soul, slumbers a germ of the deepest passion. With proper guidance, his mind, without doubt, will become full of love and gentleness; but should he at some future time be the object of mis- fortune, persecutions and wrong, I fear his soul will be filled with hate and bitterness instead of love. CHRISTMAS EVENING iOQ While his mother lives, she, that angelic, pure and devoutly resigned woman so long, no doubt, will her warnings, her true Christian wisdom, have power to stay the storms that rage in his breast. But if he loses her, if he is cast without guidance, without restraint, out into life, then, my son, he will struggle awhile, and perhaps go victoriously out of the battle; but it is also possible that he will succumb. May God give him strength, for surely it will be his lot to suffer much a something tells me this." "And Mrs, Sterner has not yet said anything about her husband about Maurits' father?" asked Oscar. "No, I do not know who he was. A solemn vow seals the lips of the poor mother, and I respect her therefor. "All that she has imparted to me is that her hus- band, before he married her, gave her an education far above the station that belonged to her by birth, after which he went abroad, and died in a foreign land, leaving her a widow and a mother in the utmost des- titution. He died by an unhappy accident in the prime of manhood, and could not, before his death, release her from the pledge he had exacted from her. This was that she should not, without his consent, reveal to any living person the secret of their mar- riage. That promise she holds is still binding, and with wonderful faith she has kept it, notwithstanding she could at any time have demonstrated the right of herself and son to a portion of his estate, which, meantime, has fallen wholly to another. This much she has related to me, and I feel convinced of the truth of her narrative." "But has it not gone far enough," interrupted Oscar, "that for such a promise she stiould be deprived of 210 THE PLAY OF FATE her lawful rights? Ought she to stand in the way of her son's progress; to be so conscientious with one who is now dead?" "Upon this point, one may reason for and against, and I have often given her such a hint. But she be- lieves she is doing right, and the next to religious veneration which she entertains for her husband's memory, forbids her doing otherwise. Whatever may be said of this feeling, it is, nevertheless, holy and admirable." "So," said Mrs. Bergholm, by her entrance inter- rupting the conversation between father and son, "the table is set. Come, my man, the lut fish and pudding will be cold." "Good, my dear Brita, good, good!" said the pastor. "I feel more than hungry. Have the servants their spread in the kitchen, and are they merry and con- tent?" "Yes, indeed, and they have all received Christmas prerents. Stina and Johanna each an apron, and Lars Peters a checked vest-pattern. They are now eating at their best, and are laughing and chatting with all their might." "Good! good! We will then taste your lut fish, mother." Contented and happy, the parents and children seated themselves at the table, and the lut fish and sweet pudding, though not of the very best, were eaten with a relish and praised by all. It was a simple and plain meal, its best condiment love and contentment. When all had eaten, and quitted the table, the pas- tor seated himself in his rocking chair, and called his children around him. CHRISTMAS KVRNING 211 Little Ulla clambered upon his knees, and pulled his beard, while the rest stood in a close circle, arm in arm, around his chair. "Children," said the good father, l; wehave now had our entertainment, and have been happy. God in his great mercy has provided for our bodily welfare, and though we are poor, we have spent our Christmas in an agreeable and satisfactory manner. But you know very well that this feast has a much greater signifi- cance; that it is our Lord's birthday feast, and that before we retire to rest, we ought to thank and praise Him, our Savior and the Giver of all good. You as- sent, of course, my children. You surely feel your- selves inclined to stibmissiveness and gratitude to Him." "Yes, indeed! ' cried all the children with feeling. "Read a psalm for us, good papa, a beautiful Christ- mas psalm." "Very well," said the pastor, "but go to the kitchen, and call in the servants. They shall take part in our devotions. " Stina, Johanna and Lars Peters were summoned, and, at the command of the pastor, took position near the door, where they stood together with hands clasped in devotion, during the prayers. And the noble priest, the Lord's worthy interpreter, read with a deep, expressive voice, to the little gath- ering. He read, and all hearts were expanded; the eyes of all were filled with tears at the words of God which proclaimed a love as immeasurable as the heav- ens, and when, at the end, he rose and with prophetic voice and glance pronounced blessing upon them all, they fell to their knees, and their thoughts were ut- tered in a general sigh of thankfulness to the Father 212 THE PLAY OF FATE who so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son. At the same instant that Angela's harp in the spa- cious hall at Odensvik was filling the hearts of the listeners to intoxication with its silvery tones, the humble and simple priest's family fell to their knees in the little room and thanked God, who from the halls of the stars looked down' with mild, forgiving eyes upon a world that had fallen and was again risen. IV. IN THE HUT Yet another picture, reader, and we will take leave of Christmas At a little table upon which a coarse, but snow-white service was spread, and where a single small light stood in the candlestick, was seen the pale, graceful figure of Mrs Sterner, who still, though it was Christmas evening, and though night had already set in, sewed' so industriously, so swiftly, to finish the work she had undertaken to complete before the Holidays. Maurits had gone to the spring for some water. The wan, and, as it seemed, suffering mother was thus left alone. On the table before her la) 7 a psalm-book, and while she worked, ever and anon her eyes fell upon it as if in the fountain of the blessed words she sought strength and comfort, courage and submission. Mrs. Sterner had just drawn the basting threads from her now accomplished task when the door opened quickly, and Maurits entered with a filled water-pail in his hands. CHRISTMAS EVENING 213 "Are you still at work, mamma mine?" said the boy, approaching and kissing her. "You must not sew any more this evening. It is Christmas, you know, and, besides, your eyes are weak and trouble- some. " "My work is finished, my dear Maurits, " said Mrs. Sterner affectionately. "We are now at liberty to spend our Christmas together. See what a pretty spread I have put upon the table, and I have also made a garland of the whortleberry bushes that you gathered. See how green and fresh they look against the white table-cloth. Green is hope's, white is death's color, my son." With growing concern, Maurits regarded his mother. She spoke with a manifest effort, and her eyes glowed as if she had a fever; a tinge of red colored her cheeks, otherwise white as death, and her breast heaved violently. "My God!" cried the boy anxiously. "You are surely ill, mamma. You have watched too much, you have worked yourself out." "I not well?" said Mrs. Sterner with a smile. "O, yes, my son, I have never felt better. The angels of heaven who sang at the cradle of Jesus will visit us this evening in our hut, Maurits. I see them coming, white, radiant, of Godlike beauty. Their harps ring. We will join in their exultation." "My mother, mother mine, you rave," cried Maurits, terrified at the expression of her face. "I rave? No, my dear Maurits, I do not rave. Do you not see the heavenly forms? Do you not discern the fragrance of lilies and heliotropes? A soothing breeze is playing around my heated forehead. O, so fresh, so delightful! 214 THE PLAY OF FATE "O, God, what a Christmas table! Do you not see it? Angels spread it for us." Mrs. Sterner bowed her head in her hands, while Maurits, appalled at such unusual transports in his poor mother bathed her temples with cold water. "My son, my son! " cried Mrs. Sterner, lifting her head, "I am not ill, don't be afraid, it is over now. I felt for a time so strange. I have, maybe, worked too much, as you said. My mind wandered, but it is better now, it is past." "God grant it, my dear mother," said Maurits, some- what assured. "But your cheek is hot, your forehead burns. Ought you not to lie down? Let me take your arm and help you to the bed, mamma, and sing a song for you before you sleep." "No, no, Maurits, I do not wish to sleep now. Is it not Christmas? The yule candle is lighted in the homes of the rich, the fortunate. We have only one candle, and no lut fish or groats, no Christmas pres- ents, as in former days, bat we should thank God for what we have. We have his Holy Word here for oar consolation and edification. Let us satisfy our souls with the holy repast; let us be happy in hope; patient in our calamity. O, my son, my son! the good Father has laid a heavy trial upon us, but He has done it that we may be redeemed." Maurits did not venture an answer There was a something within him that disputed his mother's words, but he remained silent, for he would not wound her with his misgivings. "My gentle, my noble, resigned mother! Shall she pine away with night-watching and work, and you look upon it indifferently thou God, whose name is continually upon her lips? CHRISTMAS EVENING 215 "It is said that you are a Father who watches over his children, and yet you allow her, the purest, the best, to be crushed, while others unworthy of your kindness, revel in luxury. "Why, O God, why must this be so? "I will not doubt your justice yet. There may still be help for us. Everything may be made good again, and our sufferings may be turned to gladness. There- fore, O God, forgive my doubt." "Maurits, " said Mrs. Sterner, interrupting her son's thoughts, "my eyes pain me severely, and I see things as through a mist. Get the psalm-book and read to me, then we will prepare our meal, and you may taste of the Christmas brew that the good pastor sent us." "Willingly, mamma, but ought we not to first make a fire in the fireplace shall we not have our Christ- mas fire?" "Yes, Maurits, build the fire. That is a good boy." Maurits took from the scanty stock of wood and lighted the little pile in the fireplace. "See, mamma, now I'll read for you." And read he did. Thankfully the mother lifted her eyes to heaven where the beautiful stars were spark- ling, then bowing her head upon the table and cover- ing her eyes with her hands she wept in silence. Maurits read a long time. His own heart felt warmed by the glorious words and tears streamed from his eyes as they were also streaming from those of the always deeply reverent mother. Maurits paused suddenly. Mrs. Sterner raised her head and looked about the room. "My God, Maurits!" she cried, "what is this? Why have you blown the candle out and why has the fire died down?" 2l6 THE PLAY OF FATE "Candle! fire! ' exclaimed the boy with growing anxiety; "what do you mean, mamma? The candle is lighted and the fire on the hearth burns lustily." "Does the candle burn? Is the fire bright?" cried Mrs. Sterner, in a voice so broken, so full of pain, that it penetrated the boy's breast like a two-edged sword. "Does it burn? Are you certain about it, Mauri ts?" "My mother, my poor mother, what ails you?" cried he, beside himself. "Do you not see the flames? Do you not see me, me, your son?" and he fell at her feet, covering her hands with kisses and tears. "No, my son," answered the unfortunate woman, trembling; "no, I cannot see you, I shall never see you again, for, O God, I am blind!" "Blind!" shrieked Maurits, with a voice of terror/ "Blind! O, no, no, it is impossible! You jest! It can't be so!" "Maurits!" burst forth the mother, raising her sight- less eyes toward heaven, whose stars she could never again distinguish, "yes, it is so. I have long feared it, and now, now have my fears been realized." "Mother! mother!" continued Maurits, weeping, "you blind? O, it is terrible! And can you now be- lieve that there is a God who looks down with love upon his children? Will you still insist that it is only a trial that he has inflicted upon you for your benefit? No, no!" continued he, springing to his feet in wild doubt. 'No, I renounce him,, I do not believe in him; and if such there be, he has no compassion, no love, no concern for those who suffer." "Maurits, do not blaspheme," cried the blind mother anxiously. "How can you, how dare you, you crazy boy, lift your voice against the Lord of the universe? CHRISTMAS EVENING 217 Down upon your knees, and bow yourself in submis- sion under the hand that strikes or heals. What, in- deed, is this miserable existence; what are its sorrows, its sufferings? Shall the finite worm that crawls in the dust denounce the infinite Being that created him? O, my son! my son! however much we suffer here matters little. Hope remains with us, hope of the coming, the eternal, the everlasting! " "Hope, yes," resumed Maurits. bitterly. "The rich hope, and with it we must be satisfied. Upon it we are fed when we lament our distress. O mother, you, an angel in goodness, in piety and patience, that you must be blind. Wherefore? wherefore?" "Maurits," said the poor woman, wringing her hands, "do not talk so. O, your blasphemous words make my affliction more bitter, augment my sorrows more than the misfortune itself, with which the Heavenly Father, in his infinite wisdom, has thought good to visit me. My son, my darling child, my first born, my all, you for whom I have suffered so much, prayed so incessantly, O, will you bring your poor mother to despair? Will you abandon the belief in that which she, frOm your earliest childhood, has labored so hard to instill into your young soul? Will you, in your foolish presumption, renounce God?" Mrs. Sterner ceased. With clasped hands, and anxiously-beating heart, she stood before her son, and her eyes, those eyes in which the last spark was extin- guished, stared as if endeavoring to penetrate the darkness, to read what was going on within her dar- ling's breast. At this sight, the bitterness in his soul was softened, defiance was changed to sorrow, and, in tears, he sank at her feet and asked her forgiveness 2l8 THE PLAY OF FATE tor having in his anguish added stones to her burden. The blind mother smiled sweetly, and brushing the locks from his forehead, leaned forward and kissed him. "Maurits," said she consolingly, 'God has punished me severely, but maybe all hope is not yet lost. I may, perhaps, socn recover my sight. It may be only a sudden passing pain, produced by over-work and too man}' tears. You have surely heard that one may weep oneself blind, but that such a blindness is not incura- ble." "Can you not see at all, mamma?" asked Maurits; "do you not see my hand as I hold it before your eyes?" "No, my son. All is dark, dark as the grave." "O, my God! And so suddenly the misfortune came upon you. I did not know that one could become blind at once. I thought it came about by degrees." "It is usually so, Maurits," answered Mrs. Sterner; "but there are many cases in which the sight has at once and suddenly been lost. Besides, mine has for a long time been weakening, as you know." "Ah, mother! " cried the boy in deep pain, "what a Christmas eve! " "Yes," said Mrs. Sterner, "but the thoughts of your future grieve me most, my boy. How can I work for you now and for myself?" "You shall work for me no longer," said Maurits, embracing her affectionately. "No, it is now I who will work for you." "You!" said she with a painful smile, "you are not accustomed to such work as men must engage in for their support. " "No, but I am young and strong, and can work for CHRISTMAS EVENING 2IQ two. I'll go to the manor and help them thresh; I'll chop wood, I'll do everything that I am set at. O, we will get along. I pledge myself to sacrifice the whole of my strength for you, mother." "And your studies, my child, your studies," cried she, "how will it be with them?" "Neither will I neglect them. When it becomes dark and I can no longer work, I will read. I have already progressed far enough that I can manage with- out assistance. Books I can borrow from the good pastor, and on Sunday afternoons I will go to him. and ask him to explain things that I do not under- stand. O, mother mine, we need not beg, I will work for us both." Mrs. Sterner did not answer. She could only open her arms, whereupon Maurits sank upon her breast. Thus they remained a long time in silent embrace, tears from the sightless eyes of the blind woman mingling with those of her son. CHAPTER II THE BLIND WOMAN AND HER SON It was a day or two after Christmas. The steward of Odensvik sat in the inner of his suite of rooms shaving himself before the mirror. It was piercing cold outside and he had, therefore, ordered a fire built in the stove. Possessing a pair of matchless side whiskers, of which he was very proud, and with which not even a thousand cans of brandy could tempt him to pnrt, it was only his chin that he shaved. Added to this, Mr. Sjoholm was the owner of a fresh and glowing face, in which, however, one might seek in vain for some manifestations of a more than ordinary intelligence. Yet, "give the devil his due," the steward, "clipped and scoured," would pass at a glance fcr a man of affairs, and might even appear to be endowed with a certain genius, of the sort that may be termed inborn. So it was also, and upon this he most prided himself. Next in consideration came his good looks, and the impression he knew with certainty he had made upon a number of the young maidens of the neighborhood. Little wonder then that, as he sat before the mirror, he sometimes forgot himself, and sank into a contem- plation of his own ego. Not the inner, but the outer. The razor rested, while its owner exercised himself in the art of making striking and pleasing faces, and in poising his head in the most elegant manner. He 220 THE BLIND WOMAN AND HER SON 221 s~2med to be perfectly satisfied with these experiments aivl smiled in good humor at his own image before him. Succeeding this, the inspector took from the window a glass, wherein reposed a half-withered thorn rose, which he pressed gently to his lips, sighing a name the name of a young lady, of course. In this room there were also other things worthy of attention. On the wall over the bed hung a pair of double-barreled pistols and a saber. Between these warlike emblems, ticked gently a large silver chronom- eter, resting softly on a watch cushion worked in zephyrs, displaying all the colors of the rainbow. Doubtless a dear memento of some gentle Chloe, some languishing Hilda, Laura, or other. Who knows? Above these articles hung a guitar, still quite new, which at present possessed only five strings. Nearly all stewards and book-keepers play the guitar. They play in the gloaming, or by the light of the moon. It is so romantic, and what would a steward's or book- keeper's life be without romance? The steward of Odensvik was, moreover, a person well versed in polite literature. In a corner of the room he had a stained book case containing, not alone dissertations on horse breeding, the care of cattle, and the distillation of brandy, but also a collection of ele- gantly bound romances and poems, and even a Swed- ish translation of Jean Paul's Titan, though, truth to say, its leaves had not yet been cut. Steward Sjoholm cast an approving glance at him- self in the mirror, then wrapped his dressing-gown around him and took down his guitar for the purpose of whiling away a few minutes before going out to oversee the work of the day. Thrumming a few preludes, he seated himself on the 222 THE PLAY OF FATE bedside, and was on the point of beginning the beau- tiful song: "Bjenke, for the Last Time," the favor- ite song of stewards when the door opened and a half- frozen boy entered. Mr. Sjoholm cast a careless glance at the intruder, picked the strings of the instrument a few times more, then addressed his visitor: "Good morning, Maurits, have you my night-shirts with you?" "Ah, no," sighed Maurits, "mamma can't sew any more." "Can't sew any more! And why not?" "Because she has become blind." "Blind!" exclaimed the steward. "Has become blind! And how did that come about?" "I don't know, indeed, but it must be that she has worked too hard. She lost her sight very suddenly." "That's bad, very bad!" said the steward, thrumming away on his guitar. "She was an excellent seamstress. You may then bring me the cloth. Who the devil can I now get to make them for me? Blind! How ridiculous!" "Mr. Steward," said Maurits, with pleading voice, "my mother can no longer work for our support, and we must perish if you do not take pity on us." "I!" and the steward's brow clouded. "What can I do for you?" "You can give me employment of some kind, and pay me day wages. I am young and strong, and I will endeavor to do my day's work as well as any other. Will you find something for me to do?" "Hm!" muttered the steward. "That I will, but it is a shame that, having been designed for a priest, you must put your studies aside now." I can study evenings," said Maurits, sorrowfully, THE BLIND WOMAN AND HER SON 223 "but my blind mother's support goes before all else." "Very well. What kind of work will you have?" "Let me come to morrow morning and help with the threshing. When there is no threshing, I can chop wood, haul timbsr from the forest, or something in that line. For pity's sake do not den}' me this!" "You s>hall have it," said the inspector, who enter- tained some sympathy for the boy and his mother. "You shall have it but I have forgotten how old are you? " "I'll soon be fifteen." "Good! I will give you twenty four skillings a day and, besides, you shall have your breakfast and dinner every working day. At dusk, you may go home to your mother and your studies. These are much bet- ter terms than are enjoyed by any other of the labor- ers, and you must endeavor, therefore, by your dili- gence and perseverance, to make yourself worthy of my kindness. I am really sorry for your mother, yet a portion of your earnings must be retained to pay the rent of the hut in which you are living. Your mother IKIS paid his, heretofore, partly with work and partly in money. But, since she can no longer sew, your wages for one day in each week will be held to cover it. For the other five days, you shall have your money every Saturday night. Are you satisfied with this?" ' O, yes! Thanks, a thousand thanks!" cried Mau- rits, joyfully. "How glad I shall be to work for my blind mother, and so repay her, in a measure, for the love and care she has bestowed upon me." "Very well. Bear in mind that you must be in the barn at sharp six every morning. We have still a great deal of grain uathreshed, and must make good use of every day the Lord gives us. I promise you, more- 224 THE P LAV OF FATE over, that you shall have only clean work. You will not be called upon to work in the stables or distillery." "You are very good, Mr. Steward, God bless you!" "Nothing, nothing, my boy. Good-bye. You may begin in the morning." "I will be here at six in the morning. But there is one thing more I would ask you." Maurits hesi- tated. "Speak out, let's hear it," said the steward. "What do you wish?" "You have so many nice books, said Maurits; "will you not lend me some of them to read aloud evenings to my mother?". "Willingly," said the steward, rising and going to the book-case. "What kind of books will you have? Here is 'Jacob Van Buchenstein,' 'The Urn in the Lonesome Valley,' also the 'Aeronaut' by La Fontaine. But perhaps you prefer poetry? I have books of poetry as well, and the best, 1 promise you. Here are a number of Kjelgren's works, also two of Leo- pold's and of Friedman's epistles. But I know what will please you. You shall have 'Dumfries Castle' and 'Kenilworth,' by Walter Scott. Your mother will be pleased with them, 1 am sure." Maurits thanked him, took the books and departed. "It is remarkable," muttered the steward to himself, "how much that boy resembles my young master. Well, well, there are strange doings in the world. May be the old count has hm! It would be very extraordinary if it should be so, and if Maurits, igno- rant of the fact, would thresh in his brother's barn as a day laborer. " The steward took another look at himself in the mirror, and tied his neckerchief. THE BLIND WOMAN AND HER SON 225 "It is too bad that she has been struck blind; she was a most excellent shirt-maker. But I have done a good deed by taking these poor people under my care; yet I am charged with being uncharitable. And why? Because a few renters, shiftless and unable to pay their rent, were driven off, and because a woman or two died of hunger on the estate. Curse them! Can I feed all the hungry women, and fill my master's houses with sick and crippled beings, who are utterly useless to the estate? The devil take them! If they can't work, they must pack themselves off. That I can't help. It is another thing with Sterner and his mother. I will help them, for, first and foremost, the mother has made me such elegant shirts, and, second, the boy, it ma}' be, is a brother to the count, my mas- ter, collaterally, of course. Their really surprising likeness seems to make it plausible. We shall see." The steward began again to admire and plume him- self while humming the refrain of a lively song. Meantime, Maurits bent his steps toward the par- sonage, and, upon arriving, at once entered the pastor's study, where he found his teacher engaged "in an animated conversation with his son. Maurits had already apprised the pastor of the misfortune that had befallen his mother, and the noble pastor, accompanied by Oscar, had twice visited the blind woman in her home for the purpose of giving her consolation and courage. "Listen to the news," said Maurits, as he entered. "I have been t'o Odensvik, where I have engaged my- self as a laborer. What do you think of it?" "A laborer!" cried the pastor, startled, for this was the first intimation he had received that Maurits de- signed to work. "Are you going to work as a common laborer? My boy, that must not be!" 226 THE PLAY OF FATE "And my mother, shall she starve?" "We were just discussing you, Oscar and I," said the pastor. "Your mother can no longer sew, it is true; but she can spin, and that right well, with a little practice, though she be blind. We will get such work for her and besides I will take up a subscription for her. I will go to all the estates hereabout where she has done work and collect some money for her. The rich will willingly give a little to their poor seamstress now that she has been overtaken by such a calamity." "No, no!" cried Maurits earnestly. "We will not live by alms. It would pain my mother and me deep- ly. I will work. I can study evenings when I am at leisure and so retain what you have taught me. My mother may possibly regain her sight. Do you not think so, dear pastor?" "Yes, yes, that I do surely, my boy. I have sent to Carlstad for a doctor. One of my maids is ill, and when he has prescribed for her, I will have him go with me to your mother and examine her eyes. He may be able to tell us what would best be done. But are you firmly resolved to take day work at Odensvik?" "Yes. What else can I do? We will not accept alms, short of the utmost need. But if I may I will come here evenings, now and then, and read to you." 'Yes, my boy, come when you will. God only knows, though, what the end will be." O, something will turn up by and by." "Yes, ' said the pastor, "yo\i are right. God surely helps those who make an hcnest struggle." "Maurits," said Oscar, "in Gothenburg, there is a very skillful oculist who is also noted for his good work among the ptfor, from whom he never accepts anything for his services. Next spring you shall take THE BLIND WOMAN AND HER SON your mocher and go to Gothenburg. You must write me first, however, and I will provide a dwelling-place for you, and also take you to the doctor. Think how nice it would be if I could show you the great city of Gothenburg, Maurits. " "A splendid thought, my dear Oscar! " cried Maurits joyfully. "I'll go to Gothenburg with my mother next summer. O,if that doctor could only restore her sight!" "Let us hope for the best, Maurits. He has healed a great many. But, if yo.u can, save a few skill ings every week from your wages in order that you may have sufficient to support you a short time in Gothen- burg if necessary." "I can do that," answered Maurits, who, in the newly awakened hope, danced for joy. "I must off at once and tell my mother. O won't she rejoice, sitting there, as she is, in the dark! ' Bidding the pastor and Oscar a hasty adieu, Maurits hurried homeward. When the project was imparted to Mrs. Sterner, that she might avoid distressing her son she feigned a lively interest in it. But she felt, nevertheless, a ceaseless gnawing within that threatened to deprive her of life even long before the time when her son hoped to escort her to Gothenburg. She kept her counsel, however, only smiling and patting him upon the cheek. Long before day, the following morning, Maurits made his appearance at Odensvik, where he found the laborers already in the barn, "threshing matins" as it is termed, and requested the foreman to assign him his part in the work. This man, a big bully, inflated by his selection as foreman, and a despot when power gave him opportunity, placed his arms akimbo, and stared with an astonished air at the boy. 228 THE PLAY OF FATE "Who in the name of Satan sent you here?" shouted he. "Do you think this is child's work? Be off with you!" "But the steward has promised me work," urged Maurits, resolutely, "and I am going to thresh whether you will or no. " "The steward has said nothing to me about it," re- turned the foreman, "and until he does, you'll get no work here. " "Then I must wait," said Maurits, with unruffled calmness, taking a position outside the door, where he could make note of how the others worked. It was very cold, and Maurits was soon chilled through, but he did not dare go inside, fearing the angry foreman, who threatened him with violence. At last the steward appeared, making his morning round to see that the laborers were doing their duty. Maurits approached him, entered his complaint, and begged his protection. "What is the matter here, Anders Peters!" thun- dered the steward. "Are you not going to allow this boy to thresh when I have engaged him?" "Didn't know you had engaged him," said the now humble foreman, taking off his cap and bowing meek- ly. "Thought the boy was too small to work." "He is strong enough," said the steward. "Take care that you treat him well, for he is under my pro- tection. Get in there, Maurits, and find a flail. The foreman will give you a place among the others." And whistling an aria from "The Poachers," he de- parted, while Maurits hastened into the barn, where he was soon warmed up with the severe exercise. Work was assured him through the steward's "pro- tection," but he had brought upon himself the hate of THE BLIND WOMAN AND HER SON 22Q the foreman, and that this would be visited upon him, to his no little annoyance, he was very soon made aware. Anders lost no opportunity to find fault with Mau- rits. Now he threshed too fast, now too slow, and never just right. The ether laborers, imitating their foreman's example, derided, kicked and cuffed the newcomer, all of which Maurits endured without a murmur. He would have lost courage had not the thought of his blind mother nerved and strengthened him to effort and submission. At last it was evening; thoroughly tired, he ceased work, and, as the laborers repaired to their cottages, Maurits wended his way wearily homeward. The sneers and abuse to which he had been subjected had completely disheartened him, and quite exhausted, he sat down on a stone by the roadside to rest. The air was frosty, but he was insensible to it. The poor boy began to weep weep over the hard lot to which pov- erty had reduced him. "O, my God! It were a blessing to die," sobbed he. "In this world there is nothing but sorrow and anguish." At this instant; he felt a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder, and heard a voice inquire: "Why are you crying, my poor lad?" A boyhood recollection was awakened in his soul. The same voice had put the same question some years before when he stood weeping over his scattered sticks in the forest. He looked up, and his eyes fell upon the well-known outlines of that wild, menacing face that belonged to the ragged beggar who had related to him his life his- tory at the murdered man's monument by the road- side. 230 THE PLAY OF FATE "Jacob Kron!" exclaimed Maurits involuntarily. "You recognize me, then, Maurits Sterner?" said Jacob. "You have not forgotten our conversation of four years ago?" "No. I shall never forget it!" "And have you found, or, more correctly, have you begun to find the world such as I described it? Poor boy. Your attire, your tears, all tell me you have." "Yes, you were right," said Maurits gloomily. "There is a fate " "Against which we must struggle," interrupted Jacob, "but not with the weapons of innocence and piety, for they are snatched from our hands by egoism ; but with those of strength, of action crime, as man calls it. There are no other means." "No, no," cried Maurits. "A criminal 1 will never be. My poor blind mother would die of sorrow." "Your mother has become blind?" "Yes," answered the boy, weeping. "And how do you maintain yourself now?" "I work for day wages on the large estate over there. I get twenty-four skillings a day." "And your studies?" "I am compelled to lay them aside until later, in order to procure bread for my mother and myself." The red-head raised his hands toward the cold win- ter heavens in an expression of rage. "And they say there is a God who protects the meek, who helps those who struggle honestly! " he broke forth, stamping on the ground. 'Curses upon this world, where all the good, all that is most beau- tiful, most magnificent, is stifled in its budding, and only the fungi of vice thrives, nourished by wealth. Once more, curses upon her!" THE BLIND WOMAN AND HER SON 23! "Do you recognize this?" "Ha, the devil!" Jacob burst, forth. "My mother's testament! How has it come into )-our hands?" Maurits related the occurrence at the river, and added that he had intended to return the trinket if ~he had known the owner's name. "He has hung this trinket around his daughter's neck," muttered Jacob. "The trinket that lie once gave to the betrayed wife, and which he later stole from her and her son. O, this is terrible! " "Have you seen your father since you first met?" asked Maurits "Yes, I have seen him once. That was last Christ- mas eve. I sought him to prove whether or not time had softened his ferocity. 1 went to him ragged and starving. I conjured him; I fell upon my knees and begged a morsel of bread, and shelter for the night; I pleaded with a voice that would have moved a tiger and he threw me downstairs as he did once before. He was the same, and my determination to be re- venged was strengthened thereby. "Yes," continued he, muttering between his teeth, "yes, I will be revenged; but the opportunity is not yet ripe. " "What then is your father? What is his name, and where does he live?" "Maurits," answered Jacob, "circumstances may perhaps, at some time in the future, bring you togeth- er with the family that showed you such infinite in- gratitude. It may be that this meeting will occur sooner than you suppose. Until then, retain this am- ber heart, and guard it well. If I were to tell you my father's name, you would at once look him up and return it. That I would not have, therefore you shall not know. " 232 THE PLAY OF FATE "Ah, why not?" "Because you may sometime become an instrument of my revenge, and that trinket may be the talisman that shall open the way. Accident may bring you, in a few years, perhaps, together with that hated family. My family, ha, ha! And then you will think of the outcast son who goes hungry to his rest, while his brother and sister live in luxury. Retain it, there- fore, for it is in better keeping with you than with me." "Your disposition is bitterer, your hate more intense now than when I last saw you," observed Maurits. "Yes, for I have suffered an additional four years." "And how have you lived during these four years?" "If you will know, follow me," said Jacob, seizing Maurits' hand. With an instinctive feeling of horror, the lad drew back. He thought of his mother, and answered: "No, I will not go with you. I will go my own way, however rough and calam'itous it maybe." "Well, go then till you tire," answered Jacob. "We will meet yet once more. Farewell." Jacob strode away, and, filled with strange thoughts, Maurits continued his homeward course. The blind woman sat and spun in the dark. Thus she now employed herself to shorten her lonesome hours while she must be alone. "Is that you, Maurits?" she inquired, as he entered. "Yes, mamma," answered he with forced gayety. "Here I am, and I have done a big day's work, I assure you." "My poor Maurits!'' sighed the mother. "You must be very tired. " "O, no. I'll light the candle now, and read to you THE BLIND WOMAN AND HER SON 233 the whole evening while you spin, mamma. It will be a recreation after the day's toil." The candle was soon lighted, and taking down a book, Maurits read diligently several hours without ceasing. "Thus matters will go nicely, mother," said Maurits finally, closing his book "I shall be able, in this manner, to retain what I have learned, and in the spring we can go to Gothenburg, where you shall have your sight restored. You can then support us as in the past, with your needle, and 1 may again resume my studies. You shall see that everything will go along smoothly." "God grant it, my dear!" returned Mrs. Sterner, 'but I have now become a burden to you, Maurits." "Don't talk so!" cried the boy earnestly. 'Have you not sacrificed your sight and strength on my account? Have you not labored and suffered for me? And is it not due from me that I repay you for all this?" "Maurits," said Mrs. Sterner, "I have sat in judg- ment en myself to day, and have concluded it may be only foolish pride that has swayed me, and that I am, probably, wronging you by allowing you to labor among the servants at Odensvik in order to avoid liv- ing upon the charity of others The good Pastor Bergholm has offered to take up a subscription for us, if we will permit it. We have both declined his kind offer; but may- we not have done wrong in so doing?" "No, no!" remonstrated Maurits warmly. 'Let me continue my work, at least for the winter. Let that be a last resort. It is no disgrace to support one's self with honest work. Why, then, should I not work as well as so many other poor people? 1 ' "But," resumed Mrs. Sterner. 234 THE PLAY OF FATK "No 'but' about it, my dear mother." interrupted Maurits earnestly. "You must allow me to decide in this matter. I love my books dearly, but I love you more than all else, and you shall not ' be driven to live by alms so long as I have strength with which to earn our bread. " Here the subject was allowed to rest. Mrs. Sterner raised no further objections, especially as she saw that it ga've her boy pleasure to work for her. Days and weeks sped by. The neighboring gentry sent the blind seamstress an abundance of flax to spin, -and soon the daily practice had made her quite as skillful as if she had her sight. Maurits continued his heavy and toilsome work at Odensvik. More accustomed to the employment, and gaining bodily strength by degrees, this work became much lighter than at the beginning, especially as the foreman and laborers finally ceased to annoy him when they observed that he did not resent their affronts, but endured everything patiently. His patience dis- armed them, and, besides, they feared the all-powerful steward, in whose favor Maurits was growing daily. Maurits' meager wages, together with the few skill- ings earned by Mrs. Sterner with her distaff, were sufficient for their support through the winter months, leaving a small sum each week toward the contem- plated journey to Gothenburg. Every evening, after returning from Odensvik, Maurits busied himself for several hours with his studies, while his mother's spinning wheel hummed. Once and again he grasped his pen, for already he felt within himself a multitude of struggling thoughts, to which he was sometimes irresistibly impelled to give form on paper. Fancy often carried him into THE BLIND WOMAN AND HER SON 235 infinite space, and to such distances that his thoughts staggered him into the realms where reason quit the helm and inspiration took him in its resistless flight. Every genius and that Maurits was a genius will be demonstrated further on has a like period of con- fused ideas, of a chaos, if we may employ the term. A period when before the full day of thought their images are imperfect, mystical, indistinct, often wholly without form, yet revealing to the observer, through their wild beauty, that he whose prod- ucts they are, will one day dazzle the world with creations of actual symmetry and perfection. h this boy's mind, early ripened by privations and suffering, there were struggling, during those winter months, many conflicting thoughts. But these battles of the spirit he concealed securely in his breast, for an intuitive feeling told him that to his dearly loved mother they would give only anxiety and trouble if she were made his confidant, The demon of doubt had taken hold of him, and however he strove to cast it off,it unfailingly returned, looking with evil eye into his young heart. A childish mind, pliable as wax, such was his when we first introduced him to the reader. Poverty and want would not have been sufficient to harden his heart; to change a pure, childish piety to gloom, cor- roding doubt; to choke the promising seed of a boundless love that slumbered within him and allow instead the thorns of bitterness and hate to take root. But the misfortunes and injustice to which he had been subjected; the poison instilled into his soul by the terrible paradoxes of the outcast son, Jacob Kron, augmented by the cruelty and scorn heaped upon him and the exceeding ingratitude manifested by the family 236 THE PLAY OF FATE with which accident had thrice brought him in contact once at the risk of his own life to save that of one of its members had done their work; had given rise in his breast to that mistrust of the world and man- kind; a doubt about a loving, omnipresent providence that we have already seen cropping out on several oc- casions, accompanying an outburst of passion. Ah, how often we build our conceptions, especially while we are young, upon an isolated incident, and it seems many times to be an accident that determines the whole career of mankind for good or evil. The fatalistic theories possess a deep significance in actual life where so many noble characters, disposed to virtue and Christian love, are stifled by lack of nourishment, by means of seductions and injustices. Maurits battled courageously, nevertheless, against these gloomy views of life. Love for his mother, so angelically resigned to her suffering, remained always as a star in his foggy heavens, and before this star the clouds usually vanished. It needed but a little ray of good fortune at any time to chase them away, and restore to his heart a childlike meekness and tranquil- lity. He had always hoped, still hoped, that good fortune would one day be his. Thought he: "In a few years, having victoriously struggled through many difficulties and pains, I shall become famous. My mother will not have to live in a miserable hut, then. She shall reside with me, her son, and her old age shall be sweetened by his love, as she sweetened his child- hood, and then everything will.be good. I shall get out of the dark in which I have been wandering, into the light of truth and faith in God, into a love for my fellow man, and be at peace with the world." THE BLIND WOiMAN AND HER SON 237 Such was the boy's hope, and though it was dimmed with tears at the time the light in his mother's eyes gave out, it was not yet wholly dead. It returned often as a glittering mirage during the youth's brighter moments; it was hidden in the background even while the darkest doubt battled within. And in his dreams was present, not seldom, a bright form that waved above him the white lily of peace. And so passed the winter. Maurits had added at least two years to his age during that time. Spiritual struggles fast ripen the child to youth, and youth to manhood, and if these struggles are attended with, or are incident to bodily suffering, this is revealed in a higher degree. Spring was approaching. The snow was melted away and the song of the lark was again heard in the neigh- boring meadow. Maurits, whose hours at Odensvik were never longer than from six in the morning until four in the afternoon, returned to his mother one beau- tiful sunny April day, with the first spring blossom in his hand, and, presenting it ";o her, cried in a voice of more cheerfulness and good feeling than he had shown for a long time : "Mamma, it is again spring. Come out and feel how gloriously the sun shines. In a few weeks, we will set out for Gothenburg, and you shall have your sight again, and once more see the flowers and birds, and rejoice at summer's splendor." The blind mother smiled, and pleased to see her son's exhilaration, took his arm, and with unsteady gait, accompanied him to enjoy the young spring, and allow the fresh breezes to fan her fevered cheeks. CHAPTER III A CONSPIRACY We must return to Odensvik to describe a scene that was there presented one beautiful day in early spring, and in the same year with the occurrences of the fcre- going chapter. Count Eberhard was absent on a visit in the neigh- borhood. The beautiful Angela, his Hesperian mis- tress, sat, robed in a lovely morning gown, upon a richly silk upholstered divan in her boudoir, her fin- gers mechanically wandering over the strings of her harp, standing at her side. A knock was heard upon her door. "Well, at last! " muttered the cantatrice to herself. "Come in," added she aloud. The door opened, and M. Crispin, the count's French friend, entered the apartment. "You have allowed me to wait so long," said Angela sulkily. "It is nearly two hours since the count rode away, and we have lost precious time that might have been employed in perfecting our plans." "I thought you were not dressed, beautiful Angela," said Crispin, seating himself at her side and taking her hand. "The count, at an)' rate, will not return before noon, and we have yet three hours until then. We can, therefore, converse undisturbed." "Hear me, Crispin," said Angela, after a short si- lence; "when you persuaded me to undertake the en- 238 A CONSPIRACY 239 thrallment of Eberhard's heart, and follow him to this distant land, you held out to me the most alluring inducements. True, to a certain extent the)' have been realized, for the count has been remarkably generous with me; but what I foresaw has taken place. I have tired of this secluded life; I long to return to my beautiful fatherland. I shall freeze; I shall perish of cold if I dwell here longer. You must, therefore, ful- fill your promise and take me hence, for Eberhard would rather kill me than voluntarily allow me to leave him. " "Good! good!" cried Crispin, rubbing his hands with delight. "You have worked out my revenge to the utmost, Angela. When I rescued you from the gypsies with whom you were strolling around in my fatherland, and procured for you an engagement in the theater Milano, I had little thought that at some future time you would be of such inestimable value to me. I felt, at the most, that I was rearing a charm- ing mistress as a means of satisfying my desires; but you have not alone been all that; you have even served as an instrument of my revenge, and that is more." "You hate that man so immeasurably?" "You know, Angela, what I suffered in my youth because of his mother's fickleness; a fickleness with- out example, for I had, at the risk of my own, saved her life and that of her father, and for it she had sworn me eternal fidelity. She deceived me. Then I vowed on my part to pursue her and her family with an un- relenting revenge. Death has snatched her and her husband away from my hate; only the son remains, and he shall be made to pay in rich measure for his mother's crime. I rejoice, therefore, that you have ensnared him helplessly in your meshes, Angela." THE PLAY OF FATE The young songstress contemplated the Frenchman with a look that expressed at the same time admira- tion and horror. He was, at that instant, dazzlingly handsome, while his dark features were lighted by satisfaction at the triumph of his schemes. Suddenly Angela sprang to her feet, wound her white arms around his neck, pressed him to her soft breast, and cried: "You are an ideal man, Crispin. You can love, ad- mire, and hate at the same time. I adore you!" Crispin laughed as Satan laughs when he has caught another victim; but he pushed the fiery woman from him and continued: "The time will come, Angela, when we may live wholly for each other. We will leave this country together after we have wrecked Eberhard. Yes," he continued, with an ironical smile, "he regards me as his friend, and you he worships as his mistress. He shall suddenly waken from that dream, and we shall have gone with his treasure, which he has lavished unstintingly upon us. You have received costly pres- ents, Angela?' "Yes," answered the woman smiling, "I have sold my favors at good prices. He has been generous to me with articles of jewelry and other precious things. " "And he is infatuated with you yet?" "More than ever. It is as if I had given him an intoxicating love potion. Yesterday evening, for ex- ample, when I spoke of severing my connection with him, and returning to Italy, he threw himself upon his knees before me, and importuned me to rather take his life, for he could not survive such a day. Do you believe he will commit suicide if we desert him?" "I do not think so, he is too faint-hearted to do such A CONSPIRACY 24! a thing. But he will rave, he will despair, he will throw himself into the depths of extravagances and lusts from which, enfeebled in both body and soul, his faith gone, with nothing on which to build, hope scat- tered to the winds, death will snatch him." "Your revenge is exquisite, Crispin," said Angela in admiration. "I should not like to bring your hate upon myself, It were better to die at once." At these words, Crispin cast a glance at the song- stress so ironical, so devilish, that, without knowing wherefore, she felt herself chilled to the marrow with terror. "My God! You regard me sometimes with such a fearful look," cried she, "that one could actually be- lieve that I am the object of your hate instead of your love. Do you love me no longer?" "Love you!" exclaimed the Frenchman, twining his arms around her waist, and resting his head upon her half-naked breast. "Yes, Angela, I love you as a creation of my own fancies, vehement, playful, sing- ing, giddy, frivolous; I love you with all your vices, because it is I who have made you what you are; be- cause you stand as a beautiful expression of my own fiery soul. Therefore I love you, and shall always love you, Angela. Therefore I rule you, even you, whose flames are as scorching, as destructive as Africa's desert winds." "You devil!" Angela burst forth, lifting the French- man's head, and pressing her swelling lips to his. "To have won ypur love, that is something but now, let us return to our common affairs." "Yes," assented Crispin. "My plan is as follows: In a few weeks, the count intends to arrange for a great hunt. Before we ride 'out in the morning for 242 THE PLAY OF FATE we are to hunt on horseback gather up all your trink- ets and ready money, and take them with you to the forest. The rest of your possessions, your clothes, your harp, etc., etc., are of little consequence, if they must, of necessity, be left behind. The count should have some memento of his mistress left him," he added with a smile of irony. "'Besides, he watches you with a jealous devotion that makes it impossible to flee withiout the greatest caution. When the company be- comes scattered, as it will in time, we must avail our- selves of the opportunity, and make our escape when the count's attention is attracted to other things. At one of the cities on the Wener, we must procure ap- propriate clothes. You must dress in man's attire, and attend me as a servant. Thence we will make our way to Gothenburg, and therefrom sail for France, where we will locate for a time in my native province. What do you say to it? " "Excellent!" exclaimed Angela. "If only everything goes well. But what if he pursues and overtakes us?" "That will be impossible, as we shall take the fleet- est horses to be found in his stables, and furthermore, he has no legal claim upon us. The horses we can send back to him, and with them a letter in which I shall inform him of the character of the. friendship and love we have entertained for him. In that letter I will also relate a history to him, the history of his mother." "You are dreadful, Crispin," cried Angela. "Your craft, your genius, are devilish." "And you are an angel, Angela," added the French- man. "Do you remember the first time I saw you? It was in Toulouse, where I resided one winter. A band of gypsies strolling through the city passed my A CONSPIRACY 243 window. Among those wild, swarthy forms, I dis- cerned a little girl of rare beauty. You were in the lead of the band with a cithera in your hands, and you sang, sang with a sweetness that attracted my attention. I bought you from the gypsies, and reared you for my own pleasure, opening to you, ultimately, a brilliant career in which, with your beauty and tal- ents, you dazzled the public. In gratitude for this care, you pledged me a love that only death should end." "I remember it well," said Angela, a cloud disfigur- ing her forehead. "I am a child of accident. Upon no mother's breast have I ever rested, and all search after my parents has been fruitless. On my shoulder I bear a mark which seems to have been seared there in my earliest childhood. It represents a rose, around whose stem winds a serpent. Can one conceive any- thing more hideous! O, if I could but know what significance the object possesses! Perhaps as a child I have already been consecrated to the powers of evil. See here!" And the beautiful woman bared her shoul- der, displaying the mark, the figure of a blood-red rose, encircled by a black serpent. "I know, I know, Angela," said Crispin, casting an indifferent look at her arm. "It is as you say, a hor- rid tattooing whose significance is not easy to guess. Perhaps the future will throw some light upon it." "Well, possibly, but I hardly believe it," said An- gela, resting her head thoughtfully in her hands. But now, Crispin, it is time for us to separate. The count must not surprise us. We understand each other, and in a few weeks we quit Sweden together." "Yes, never to see it again." "Your hand on that," and the two friends shook hands. 244 THE P LAY OF FATE "France and Italy conspire," observed Angela laugh- ing. "Sweden the unconscious victim." "So be it. Farewell!" He departed, and Angela's harp was uttering sweet melody when Eberhard, a lew minutes later, entered the boudoir. "Where have you been, Eberhard?" said Angela, as the count seated himself at her side. "At Liljedahl. Can you imagine anything more ri- diculous? They have there planned a marriage for me." "Marriage! And with whom? ' "With the daughter of the house." "Is there a marriageable daughter in the family?" "No, she is yet but nine years old; but Baron Ehren- stam feels that I can very well wait till she becomes 'a prendre, ' and how well he knew my mind in this. I marry! Ha, ha, ha!" "You declined the honor, of course." "No, the devil!" answered the count. "I would not displease him unnecessarily. I premised him to con- sider the matter, and, meantime, not to bind myself to another. Such a promise will not be very difficult to keep." "The girl will one day be very rich?" "Yes," said the count, "she will certainly receive a handsome dower; but what care I for that? I have an abundance, and, so long as you remain with me, beau- tiful Angela, I can desire nothing better. You are the only one I would marry, but you will not listen to it. You love your liberty too much." "Yes," said Angela, "I'll never marry. You should remember that I am wedded to my art, and that the people of Milan demand that I return to them." A CONSPIRACY 245 "Then I'll accompany you, Angela," exclaimed the count passionately, "if it were to the ends of the earth. I'll never abandon you." And he pressed her rapturously to his breast. But she struggled loose, laughed, and said: "You'll hug me to death, Eberhard. Farewell! I must go and dress myself. We are to drive this after- noon. " Nimbly as a fawn, she disappeared through the door to her bed-chamber, locking it behind her. "Heavens, what a woman!" burst forth the count, springing up and rushing from the room. CHAPTER IV A BUILDING PROJECT Baron Ehrenstam of Liljedahl had by no means for- gotten his anger at the poor boy who saved Isabella's life, and who, with such impudence, the baron felt declined the reward he would have given him. The baron was one of those mean souls that try to obliterate all traces of an injustice done by the per- petration of a still greater. He experienced not the slightest contrition at the manner of his dealing with the boy, and, though he felt a chagrin that sorely pun- ished him at times, this only augmented his rage against the innocent object thereof, He had informed himself concerning the boy, and it exasperated him to know that he dwelt in his vicin- ity. He would not have so near him a creature in whose presence he must, in very shame, bow his head if chance should in some manner bring them together. Wherefore, he had long sought some means whereby he might persuade the count to give the widow and her son notice to quit the wretched hut occupied by them. He had given his wife and son strict injunctions not to speak to Isabella, under any circumstances, about the occurrence, anxious that neither Maurfts nor any other should know it was his daughter's life the young boy had saved; that he had been so ungrateful as to allow the rescuer to go without giving him the least 246 A BUILDING PROJECT 247 recognition of his indebtedness. If the story became known, it would brand him in public opinion, he knew, and the baron was one who entertained a profound respect for the opinion of his fellow man, and greatly feared defamation. It would have been possible, of course, for him to have proffered aid to the poor widow and her son, and by kindness to have undone his previous injustice and softened his unguarded utterances, but he was too proud for this. There was, therefore, no other recourse than to completely crush the unfortunate family, and hunt away such troublesome witnesses to his cold and cruel egoism. But how? That was the question. One baautiful spring morning, the baron and count rode out in company, their purpose a visit to one of their neighbors. Their route took them to the near vicinity of the abode of Mrs. Sterner and her son. The little hut was very prettily located, surrounded on all sides by green shade-trees that now, just in bud, made a very inviting scene, in striking contrast with the hut itself. The baron drew up, pointed to the place with his riding-whip, and addressed his companion: "What do you think of that hut, Count Stjerne- krantz? " "It is beautifully situated," answered the count. "It is one of mine, I believe." "Yes, and were I the owner of Odensvik, I know what I should do with it." "What, then?" "I'd tear it down and build in its stead a delightful pleasure resort, an Italian villa, a little Tuscany, far up in the north. I would then present it to my mis- tress for a residence." 248 THE PLAY OF FATE " Curpo di Baccho!" cried the count approvingly. "That is a capital idea. I'll adopt it entire. Charm- ing! I'll build it in the same style as the Italian villas in the suburbs of Tivoli, Naples, or Rome, of which I have sketches." "And your beautiful Italian," added the baron, "will think herself back in her fatherland. You can, more- over, have a conservator)- in connection, filled with southern plants, and the illusion will be more com- plete. Good luck 'to you, Eberhard. I hope you will invite me to dine with you, and to listen to your harp- ist in the new Tuscola when it is completed." "It shall be done," cried the count. "As soon as I return home, I'll instruct the steward to have the dwellers in the hut moved, and the work shall begin immediately. It will be an agreeable diversion for me during the summer, and in the villa I will collect all my precious works of art, and specimens brought home from my travels. I'll have a regular little mu- seum, you shall see a temple of elegance, of pleasure, and of art. " "And love," added the baron. "Certainly; but you must not believe that it is only an overpowering lust that attaches me to Angela. No, that woman possesses genius, talents possesses not alone a surpassing beaut)' of form and feature, but of spirit also. O, she will be a superb priestess of that temple. " "You are right. Let us ride on." "No," said the count, "let us rather pause here, and inspect the ground. I am thirsty. Perhaps the dwell- ers in the hut can give me a glass of water." "Go," said the baron, who had no desire to be seen and recognized by Maurits, "go on. I'll wait your return, but do not remain too long." A BUILDING PROJECT 249 The count rode away, and Baron Ehrenstam saw him dismount at the hut, and disappear through the low door. Eberhard remained a long time within, longer than the baron could have supposed possible, and when he finally returned to his companion's side, he was silent and thoughtful. "Well," said the baron, "what did you find in the hul?" "Strange!" muttered the count, without answering the question; "what a wonderful likeness!" "What did you find?" repeated the baron impa- tiently. "I found a boy " said the count thoughtfully. "So ho! Nothing more?" "Yes, a woman spinning flax, though blind. Who is this woman? She is no commonplace peasant, and her son is " The count paused, interrupting himself. "And why should she not be an ordinary peasant?" inquired the baron, who would not betray the least knowledge about the poor family. "Why? Because her appearance betokens a person of education; because different things in her miserable abode give evidence of former better circumstances." "What is her name?" interrupted the baron. "I do not know, I did not ask. The boy, her son, a fifteen-year-old lad, sat reading Tacitus. He informed me that he works on my estate for day wages, which are paid him by the steward. He has, besides, received instruction from the poor pastor of the parish, he said, a good-natured, learned, and somewhat droll customer, I believe." The count sank again into deep thought. 250 THE PLAY OF FATE He turned suddenly, as if awakened from a dream. "What a likeness!" muttered he. "His face, his form. It is remarkable! And that ring, with its blue stone. I have seen it before, I have played with it in my childhood. Can it be possible? Can rny father " the count checked himself abruptly, observ- ing that the baron was contemplating him. The baron feared that the count had begun to feel compassion for the widow and her son, and had there- fore banished the thought of driving them from their home; but, upon closer observation, this seemed less probable. That Eberhard, a sybarite and fatalist, could enter- tain any feeling of sympathy for the unfortunate, seemed to him so out of the question that he would be little more surprised if it happened to himself, slave of the world, egoist that he was. Meanwhile he sought in vain to draw out the cause of the unusual disturbance of mind noticeable in the countenance of the otherwise cold and pleasure sur- feited count. It was, and it remained, a conundrum, for Baron Ehrenstam had not noticed the wonderful likeness between Maurits and Eberhard, a likeness which we have already heard remarked upon by the steward of Odensvik, that induced him to take the poor boy under his "protection." The baron finally resumed the interrupted dialogue. "Well," said he, "will you go on with your building scheme, now that you have made a closer inspection of the location?" "Yes, yes," cried the count, aroused as from a dream. "Yes, they must away. That memory " Again he checked himself, and noticed at the same time that he had said too much. The baron was eye- ing him curiously. A BUILDING PROJECT 25! He learned nothing, however, for the count main- tained an obstinate silence for some time. Silent and thoughtful, the two riders continued their way until interrupted suddenly by a whining .voice: "Your obedient servant, right honorable count and right honorable baron, your obedient servant." These words were forced from the bowels of the little rotund priest, Wa.ssholm, who, at the side of his shriveled wife the ex-governess, as will be remem- bered by the reader in an unpretentious carriage, drawn by a single horse, almost ready to sink under his heavy load, was making his way up a steep and difficult hill when overtaken by the two horsemen. "Good-morning, Herr Priest," said the count coldly; "where are you going?" "I am on my way home, your grace. I have been out on a little parish inspection, and my wife, who enjoys a drive, accompanied me as an adjunct." And the priest, thinking he had made a very witty speech, gave vent to something intended for a laugh, but having more the sound of the gurgling in an ale barrel. "That is quite proper," observed the baron, with a mocking glance at the figure of the priest's companion. "Quite right to take the lady with you, when one leaves his adjunct at home, and vice versa.' "Ho ho! Your honor, Herr Baron, is facetious and merry," said the priest, casting a side glance at his wife to note how she took his- pleasantry. The latter betrayed little interest in the sally, but eyed the baron sharply, and addressed herself wholly to the count. "You are out for a little exercise this divine spring morning, Herr Count," said.she,with one of her sweet- 252 THE PLAY OF FATE est smiles. "Ah, even I could not withstand the longing to again, in the midst of nature, released from her long imprisonment, enjoy the spring wind's whispering breath, and allow the melody of the birds to charm my ears. " The count contemplated her with astonishment. "Grandiloquence in a peasant cart, " thought he. "How come these things together?" "You are fortunate, Herr Count," continued the wo- man. "You are indeed fortunate to have been privi- leged, during so many balmy nights, to wander in Italy's hesperian valleys. Ah, how many times I have envied you; how many times, \yhen my prosaic surroundings, like a burden of lead, have weighed down my soul's butterfly wings." "Butterfly wings!" muttered the baron, biting his lips to restrain an outburst of laughter. "By my soul, she looks more like a scarecrow than a butterfly. That is rich. Let us hear the rest of it." "How often," continued the woman, "in the anguish of ceaseless longing, have I allowed my thoughts to larry at the graves of Tasso and Homer." This was too much for the baron. Stuffing his handkerchief into his mouth, he put spurs to his horse and fled. Eberhard would have followed, but seeming suddenly to recollect something, he checked his horse, and, interrupting the astonished woman's sentimental effu- sions, he addressed her companion: "Herr Priest, I desire some information from you." "At your service, most gracious count." "Do you know," continued Eberhard, "who the woman is who occupies one of my cottages at the edge of the village? She'is blind, and has a son whc has been under the tuition of the pastor." A BUILDING PROJECT 253 "Ah, Mrs. Sterner!" exclaimed the priest. ''My colleague, Pastor Bergholm, is better informed con- cerning her than I. All I know is that he says she was married clandestinely to a rich man, whose unexpect- ed death reduced her and her son to want; that she has in her hands evidences of her .lawful marriage, and could, without difficulty, establish her rights; but that she is baund to her deceased husband by a pledge, or something of the kind, not to do so. Such is her narrative to the good-natured Bergholm, and he has undertaken the instruction of her son. They have re- sided here on your estate a number of years. It is clear to me that the boy is 'a child of love,' as the saying goes, and that the mother has made up this story. Such things are very common." "Certainly, without doubt," muttered the count, ab- sently. "Adieu, Herr Priest. I thank you for the in- formation. " "Your obedient servant, most noble count, your humble servant," cried the priest, as Eberhard gal- loped away. "He is in a devil of a hurry, don't you think, Anna Lisa, my dear?" "My dear Wassholm," exclaimed his wife, tossing her head, "how often must I tell you that I dislike the name Anna Lisa? The sound grates horribly on my ears. Why not say Anna Louisa, as I have repeatedly urged?" "Forgive me, sweet Anna Louisa," said the priest, who entertained great respect for his learned spouse, "I will never offend again." And he gave the poor horse, which, like the priest himself, seemed to belong to the conservatives, a cut with his whip. Meantime, Eberhard hastened to overtake the baron, 254 THE PI-AY OF FATE who had put himself, by this time, quite a distance in advance. "A secret marriage," muttered the count to himself. "It is impossible, it could not be he. But the like- ness, and, above all, that well-remembered ring with its blue stone, who* knows However it may be, they must away, away from my neighborhood. That memory has pursued me long enough. I see his feat- ures every night in my dreams. Why should I submit to having them before me ever}- day as well?" The count was interrupted in his reflections by the baron, whom he had by this time overtaken. "Well," shouted the latter, "let me hear the termi- nation of madame's tirade. How did she get away from Homer's grave?" "She remained there, for she was so struck with consternation at your sudden flight that she was powerless. But hush! Let us ride on, lest they over- take us." The two men put spurs to their horses and had soon reached the end of their ride. The day after this occurrence, Eberhard commanded that Sjoholm be sent to his room. It happened very rarely that Eberhard ha,d any- thing to say to his steward, for, having confidence in his honor, he took little pains to examine the re- ports which were laid before him four times a year for his inspection. When it sometimes happened that the count sent for him, Herr Sjoholm was always smitten with a little embarrassment, for he was afraid of the consequences, and was never entirely at ease in his conscience. Moreover, the somber and taciturn count inspired him with an indescribable horror. He A BUILDING PROJECT 255 obeyed his master's commands at once, however, and in order to brace up his courage a little, he hummed an aria from "Friskytten" while ascending the stairs to Eberhard's work-room, on the upper floor of the house. "Hear me, sir," said the count as the steward en- tered. "I have sent for you to discuss a project that I intend to undertake. I am thinking of building an Italian villa." "And where, Herr Count?" asked the steward, very much relieved. The count described the place where he would have the building erected, and added: " Yon must notify the cottager that within a month he must have moved, for I intend to begin the build- ing as soon as that." "I ought to inform you, perhaps," interrupted the steward, "that in this cottage dwells a very poor wo- man who is blind, and her son who works out the rent. " "I know, I know," interrupted the count impatiently. "I remember to have heard something of a distressing story, some rural innocent who deviated from the path of rectitude. Is it not so?" "Probably, Herr Count," said the steward with a grin of assent. "Nevertheless, they will be wholly out in the cold if they are driven from their dwelling. Is it not your intention that they shall have one of the other cottages on the estate?" "Oh, no. why should they? There are at present none empty. " "Very true, but we might put out some other ons. Lars in the horse pasture, for example, who is a drunkard, as is his wife also." 256 THE PLAY OF FATE "No," said the count, "the widow and her son must seek an abiding place elsewhere. Let Lars and his wife remain where they are." The inspector was very much surprised, and even a little alarmed, for he was not at all accustomed to having the count take the least interest in the huts and their occupants. "You may give the widow this money, in order that she may not be absolutely penniless. She will have no difficulty in finding another place. Keep in mind that you are to have the building master here at the appointed time. Adieu!" The steward withdrew without daring to make any further protestations. He went to the barn, where Maurits was at present employed under the authorita- tive Anders Peters. Calling the boy to him, he said: "I have bad news for you, my boy. The count wishes to build a pleasure house on the spot where your hut is located, and his orders are that it be torn down. He has commanded me to notify you that you must move within a month." "Move!" cried Maurits, growing pale. "Great God! where can we go?" "Oh ; you will easily find a place," said the steward. "Besides, the count has given me this money for your mother, so that you will not be without means. Take it, my boy." "Money! No!" answered Maurits, thrusting the outstretched hand from him. "Are you crazy, boy?" "Your master can drive us from our dwelling-place, he has a right to do so but his money we will not have "Reconsider, Maurits," said the steward, earnestly, "remember your blind mother. ' A BUILDING PROJECT 257 "She will approve my action," said the boy. "No alms, she has repeatedly declared." "You must consult her, nevertheless. I will keep the money meanwhile, and, if you change your mind later, you'll find it with me." "Thank you, Mr. Steward." The steward departed, and, with heavy heart, Maurits returned to his work. It was evening. Silent and depressed sat the widow and her son in their hut. The distaff was no longer heard; the books remained on their shelves, and through the little window the sinking sun cast its last crimson rays But the blind woman saw them not. From her darkened eyes fell clear tears upon the delicate, transparent hand, against which she rested her head; for although the poor mother could no longer see, she could weep. Thus they had sat a long time without uttering a word. Maurits' eyes were fixed gloomily upon the hearth, where the burning wood was slowly transformed to glowing coals, then turned black, "as black as his fate," thought the boy. "We must move, then," said Mrs. Sterner, finally, in broken tones. "O, yes, I feel that I shall soon move far away, far away to Him who beckons me from yonder blue sky." "O, do not talk so, mamma," cried Maurits in dis- tress. "You shall live. All hope is not yet lost.' "Ah, my son, we have been very poor, we have suf- fered much, but we have, .even in this little home, had many hours of pure and unmixed joy in and through our reciprocal love, and why will man hunt us hence?" 258 THE PLAY OF FATE "To build a pleasure house!" answered Maurits bit- terly. "Upon this spot where we now sit there will soon be a stately building, mamma. Many happy couples will have their rendezvous here; there will be drinking, dancing and music, gayety and wit. Beau- tiful pictures will adorn the walls, groups in marble will grace the vestibule, and the plants of the south will spread their fragrance around. Well, is it not good that such a splendid thing should be? Why should this miserable hut be allowed to stand when one has the means with which to build a palace? It offends the eyes of the count when he gallops past on his piebald steed. No, away with it the wretched nest!" The boy was silent, overcome by bitter feelings. "Not so serious, my darling," said Mrs. Sterner. "Even this blow we should bear with resignation." "Yes," said Maurits, "if one were to wring the heart from your breast, my patient mother, your dying utter- ance would be: 'Even this I ought to bear with sub mission.' But such is not my temperament ; I am not submissive, will not be. I will battle, I will defy fate. I will not be a lamb for the offering. O, that count!" "Maurits! Maurits!" cried Mrs. Sterner. "Consider that the count has a perfect right to eject us, and that he has sent money to help us. O, he is surely not so hard as represented. It may be he has a good heart, notwithstanding, though led away by riches. He spoke very kindly to us when here yesterday. " "Yes, to drive us from our home to day!" Maurits was silent, but bitter were the thoughts that raged within his fifteen-year-old breast. At last he became more calm, and rising from his chair, went A BUILDING PROJECT 259 and leaned his burning forehead against his mother's shoulder. "Mother," said he, "I have thought out our course of action. " "What is it, my child?" "I have saved up a little money from my daily wages. For the month that we may remain here, I will wofk as diligently as heretofore. At its end we will go to Gothenburg and look up the skillful oculist of whom Oscar spoke to me. He shall cure you. You shall again have your sight and we will then establish our- selves in the city. You shall sew, and I will teach little children to read. In this manner we can main- tain ourselves. Don't you think so?" "Yes, yes, my child, your plan is not so bad," said Mrs. Sterner. "But let us first consult the good pastor." "Here he comes! " cried Maurits joyfully, looking through the window. "Ah, the noble friend of human- ity!" "Good day, my poor friends," said the pastor, as he entered the hut. "How do you do? I thought I would drop in and see how you are getting along, as I am out in the discharge of my duties. You did not come to me last evening, friend Maurits. I ex- pected you, because I wanted to go over a portion of Taciti Annales with you." "Thank you, dear pastor," said Mrs. Sterner sorrow- fully. "You are always good and generous toward me and my poor boy. But we have now been smitten with new and serious troubles, more serious than ever before. " "And what are they?" Mrs. Sterner informed him of the count's determi- 26O THE PLAY OF FATE nation to build a pleasure resort upon the site of their dwelling, and his command that it should be torn down. "Stupid!" said the parson angrily, striding back and forth across the floor, "exceedingly stupid! A pleasure resort? What does he want of more than he has? I have a great mind to tell him what folly it is." The good pastor thus continued to mutter and fret, while his long, slender legs measured the floor in three or four strides. Finally, he halted before the blind woman and ex- claimed: "Woman ! I shall endeavor to find you and your son another cottage, better than this, perhaps. He may build his play house if he wishes, that count." "Ah, Herr Pastor," said Maurits, "you are an angel of goodness but I had thought out a course of action which we were just discussing as you entered." "Let us hear it, my boy." Maurits repeated the conversation with his mother concerning the Gothenburg journey, and his purpose to remain in the city. "That is not so ill thought," said the pastor medi- tatively. "However it may be, you must at any rate go to Gothenburg. I received a letter from Oscar to- day." "Indeed, and how is he?" cried Maurits eagerly. "He is well and bade me remember him to you. Moreover, he writes that at an entertainment he met the renowned oculist. An opportunity was presented to converse with him, when he related your histor)', and added that you intend visiting the city to seek his aid. The gentleman, who must be a very kind-hearted A BUILDING PROJECT 261 person, was much moved by the narration of your mis- fortunes, and promised my son to help your mother to her sight again, if it is possible. About this he has no doubt. Now, is not that good news?" "O, splendid!" cried Maurits in glee. "Noble Oscar, how I shall always love him!" "Do so, my boy," said the pastor feelingly. "You deserve each the other's friendship. But I must go now. Do not be distressed, but comfort yourselves with hope and religion. Everything will come out right, let us believe. We will talk over your plans at another time." And the noble man departed, having warmed two hearts with words of hope and consolation. Maurits made no answer, but sank his head gloomily into his hands. CHAPTER V THE GREAT HUNTING PARTY As the reader has already inferred from a foregoing conversation, Count Eberhard had planned a hunt for some beautiful day in the month of May, when the participants, mounted as in olden times, should scour the forest in search of their prey. The great day had come, but, as matters of impor- tance to several of the principal characters of our story took place that day in different localities, and under various conditions, we must, for the purpose of clear- ness, divide our narrative into parts, beginning, there- fore, with: SCENE FIRST It is early morning. The clock in the great hall of Odensvik strikes the third quarter of four. The yet somewhat faint rays of the recently risen sun are just beginning to play through the high, silk draped win- dows. Almost the whole household is wrapped in slumber. Not a sound is heard. The silence of the grave prevails. Suddenly, and at almost the same in- stant, the doors at opposite ends of the hall opened. One of these leads through an outer room to Angela's bed-chamber and boudoir, the other to Eberhard' s several rooms, one of which is, for the time being, occupied by M. Crispin. Two persons, a man and a woman, hasten with silent tread to meet each other. The woman is yet only half 262 THE GREAT HUNTING PARTY 263 clad. Her arms, her bosom, her shoulders, are bare of raiment, but partly shielded by her raven-black locks, which fall unconfined over them. "Angela," said the man, as they met midway in the hall, "can we converse without danger? Does he sleep? " "He sleeps like a log," answered Angela laughing. "I made no end of noise in getting away and yet he did not wake. " "Good! Let us then arrange everything. In two hours the guests will have arrived. Quick, to work!" "I have tied all my goods in a large bundle, which I have hidden under the bureau in the cabinet. I'll fetch it. " "Yes, but make haste. " Angela withdrew for a few minutes, and returned dragging a heavy parcel. "We are not safe here, come into my room." "In a minute, but tell me first, have you made all necessary preparations?" "Yes, our goods will be taken to Carlstad by a wag- oner whom I have engaged He is even now waiting in the park. We will follow in the evening, and go at once on board a merchantman, which is to sail im- mediately for Gothenburg. Everything is arranged with the captain. Our ready money and diamonds we must take with us. The valises containing our other things, the wagoner is instructed to deliver to the captain. We must leave a few articles behind, so as not to create suspicion if he should miss anything. What have you in the bundle?" "\V_ait, and I will show you." Angela approached a table, upon which she untied the bundle. 264 THE PLAY OF FATE A motley mixture of effects was there revealed to the Frenchman's eyes. Splendid dresses of velvet and silk, richly embroidered with gold and silver, cash- mere shawls, veils, cut glass bottles, toilet articles of silver and gold, also a small casket filled with jewelry. Such was the precious burden Angela had gathered together. Then, with a small key, she opened the cas ket, and an irrepressible cry of wonder escaped from the lips of the Frenchman at sight of the rich treas ure it contained. Blazing diamonds of the clearest water; sets splen- did with emeralds, turquoises, and sapphires in all their variety of color; brooches/ bracelets, neck ornaments, diadems, and, finally, a rosary of large, oriental pearls, all sparkling like a shower of radiance from the spring sun, dazzled his eager eyes. "Lock the casket and give it to me," said Crispin, after he had feasted his eyes for a time on the ines- timable treasure. "I can care for it better than you." Angela obeyed, and handed it to her companion, re- taining the key, which she returned to its place of keeping next her bosom. "Come now," said Crispin, "we must take these things to the wagoner. Be quick!" And these two characters pass out. SCENE SECOND It is two and a half hours later. We find ourselves in the same place as in the preceding scene. It is now livelier, however. The breakfast table is spread, and the guests are doing justice to the various dishes set before them. Surrounded by a crowd of gallant cavaliers, Angela is seen at her best, clad in a costly and tasteful riding- THE GREAT HUNTING PARTY 265 habit of green velvet, a pair of silver spurs jingling at the heels of her half boots of serge, lined and bound with red morocco, and a hat of black velvet with broad brim and fluttering plumes on her head. She is to-day gloriously beautiful, and Eberhard contemplates her with pride, delight and jealousy, while she gayly exchanges pleasantries with the lively gathering of guests. Assembled in the yard are a large number of horses and dogs, attended by servants jn rich liveries. On all sides is activity and life. Glasses are emptied by the guests in the salon ; the neigh of horses, the bay of hounds, fill the air, whose winged songsters, this beautiful spring morning, blend their notes in joyful concert. "Beautiful Diana," cried the animated Baron Y touching glasses with Angela. "Beautiful, radiant queen of the chase! The denizens of the forest will fly quaking before you when you rush down upon them, and as true knights, we will follow you and lay the fruits of the day at your feet. Let us drink to good fortune. " "Let me join you," said Crispin, raising his glass, glancing at Angela significantly. "Success to our chase, beautiful Angela." Eberhard, though apparently taken up with the other guests, was, nevertheless, listening with anx- ious attention to every word that passed in Angela's circle, and looked up quickly at Crispin's utterances. The Frenchman had laid such a strong emphasis upon the words "our chase," that Eberhard contemplated him with a glance of surprise and mistrust. Crispin observed this. Leisurely, and without the least sign of embarrassment, he approached the group 266 THE PLAY OF FATE by which Eberhard was surrounded, and exclaimed in a light, jesting tone: "Senora Angela and I some days ago determined to be the first to-day to shout ah tod. Both being foreigners, we shall esteem it no little honor, among such experienced hunters as the Swedes, to make the first lucky shot. Let us see how it will be." "We gladly enter the contest with you," said Eber- hard, his suspicions wholly dispelled. "We will vie with you. What do you say, gentlemen?" "A la bonheur!" said Angela, who had meantime approached. "You may compete with us. but excel us, you shall not. Let me tell you that I can hit a swallow on the wing." "And a man in the heart," said Baron Ehrenstam, with a courteous bow. "But now, to horse!" resumed Eberhard. "Gentle- men, one glass more, then to our work! '' The glasses were filled with foaming champagne, and emptied with a hurrah for the sport. The company now rushed to the yard, sprang into their saddles, and, with Eberhard and Angela leading, the hunting party started clamorously forward over hills and dales. SCENE THIRD It is a few hours later in the forenoon. In the un- pretentious hut we find Mrs. Sterner and her son at- tired for a journey. The little room is bare. The articles of furniture constituting the widow/s meager possessions have been moved to the rectory. Pastor Bergholm has promised to take care of them until the owner and her son return from Gothenburg, for which place they are just now in readiness to set out. THE GREAT HUNTING PARTY -.267 They are taking a last look at their home, where they have suffered so many years, worked and shared their sorrows and rejoicings. When they return, if ever they do, their little dwelling will be torn down and another building raised upon the spot where it stood. The blind mother leans on her son's arm, as the latter with tearful eyes contemplates the naked walls, the smoke begrimed ceiling, the fireplace, every cor- ner in the deserted abode where the greater part of his boyhood has been spent. Mrs. Sterner herself seems to be much weakened, to be suffering sorely. An incurable lung trouble is drawing her nearer the grave; but she conceals her danger in order not to dampen her son's hopes, and bring distress upon him. She endeavors to appear strong, poor woman, not- withstanding her strength is ceaselessly diminishing. With a faint smile, and a weak pressure of the hand, she responds to the tender attentions bestowed upon her by Her son. "My dear mother!" exclaims Maurits, after casting a lingering glance around the desolate home of his boy- hood, "let us now begin our journey into the great un- known world. When we return here, you shall again see, and we will dwell in a more comfortable habita- tion, which the pastor has promised to have in readi- ness for us if we do not find it advantageous to remain in Gothenburg. Come, mother, I'll be your conductor, and when you tire of walking we will get a convey- ance and ride. Do you feel strong enough?" "Yes, my son. Let us go. " And steadying herself on her beloved son's arm, the blind woman left for all time the miserable abode, and the only one that had offered her shelter in the days of her want and distress, but from which she was 268 THE PLAY OF FATE now hunted by the rich man who, to please his mis- tress, would here erect a dwelling for her. It was a clear and somewhat chilly day. Thinly clad, Mrs. Sterner shivered at every gust of wind; her fee- ble and exhausted condition making her very sensitive. The two travelers having reached the highway, bent their steps in the direction of the forest, where we have before seen Maurits gathering wood for his sick mother, and listening to Jacob Kron's horrible life history. Maurits was unusually live!}'. The weather was beautiful, the sky blue, the meadows green and glo- rious with flowers Hopes of better days filled the youth's soul. It was a generous providence that looked down upon him with loving eyes from the sun's burning sphere. Holy emotions warmed his spirit. Light and tranquillity chased away the gloomy impres- sions that doubt and mistrust had bred within him. He thought of his blind mother, who had no other support in the world than him. He saw her walking by his side; he marked how, little by little, her pace became stronger and more brisk, how a faint glow colored her cheeks ; knowing nothing of the secret pain that she concealed within her breast to spare him anxiety. He said to himself, "In a few days we will be in Gothenburg, and my mother shall there have her sight restored to her. Oscar Bergholrn will then take us around and show us all the noteworthy things the churches, the exchange, the harbor. Oh, how delight- ful it will be! And then we may, perhaps, establish ourselves in the city. Mamma may work, as before, and I will get small boys to teach, and during my leisure hours I can continue my own studies. Ah, THE GREAT HUNTING PARTY 269 but I'll be so industrious that my mother may rejoice in me." And his mother was always the center around which these illusive dreams were built. Her venerable and beloved form stood always in the middle, surrounded by all the roses with which love and childish fancy could adorn her. She was the ideal of his thoughts, his dreams his boyhood's, his manhood's guardian angel. Maurits' cheerful frame of mind was even shared by his mother. The exercise had soon made her warm; the fragrance of the flowers, the songs of the birds, and the salubrious rays of the sun operated agreeably up- on both her soul and body. She laughed at her son's plans, and even indulged in little pleasantries now and then, such as had been strangers to her lips for many months. "At the next inn we will get a horse, mamma," said Maurits. "It will be altogether too much for you to undertake the whole journey on foot." "Ah, if only our little means will permit. Maurits, how much have we in our treasury?" "All of thirteen riks-dollars, and a few skillings. It is not much, to be sure, but, with economy, we can get through very nicely." The wayfarers had now reached the heap of stones with which the reader is already acquainted, marking the place of the murder. Maurits cast his eyes upward toward it. With a shudder, he noticed on its summit a lone person with arms folded across his breast, leaning upon a gun, and apparently sunk in deep thought. Though the man had drawn his hat far down over his face, and his eyes were fixed upon the ground so 270 THE PLAY OF FATE that his features were not clearly discernable, some- thing told Maurits that he was no other than his evil genius the outcast, the criminal Jacob Kron. Unobserved, the boy and his mother passed the stone heap; the gloomy, pensive being on its peak not once lifting his eyes. "Come, mother, let us hurry, " said Maurits, in whose soul the melancholy, bitter memories were again set raging. And they hastened forward. A few paces on the other side of the monument, a' little by-path ran transversely across the highway, making here a right angle and forming at the same time a cross. Maurits, with his companion, had reached the mid- dle of the two arms of the cross when, suddenly, from the right, sounds of horses' hoofs were heard, and two horsemen, preceded by a brace of hunting-dogs, dashed with lightning speed down the path toward them. Before Maurits could drag his helpless charge back, the horse of one of the riders had gone over them. They were thrown to the ground. The riders did not observe this, or 'would not heed the accident of which they had been the cause, and disappeared in a cloud of dust. But with the glimpse Maurits secured of them as they passed over him, he recognized them both. The one, he whose horse had run them down, was Count Eberhard of Odensvik, Maurits' former mas- ter; the other, the proud, cold, commanding figure of the father of the child whom he had saved from death in the river, but who was otherwise, both as to name and residence, unknown to him. Maurits had not been injured, and was quickly on THE GREAT HUNTING . PARTY 2JI his feet again; but at his side, in the road, lay his mother, unconscious, and bleeding from a deep wound on her head. Maurits gazed with confused look around him. There was no one in sight. Both horsemen had dis- appeared. Hereupon he gave vent to a loud cry of agony, of rage, grasped his half-dead mother, and bore her to the edge of the road, where he laid her tenderly upon the grass. Hurried blasts of a horn reached his ears. Maurits looked up. A stately huntress, who, doubtless, belonged to the same company with the two riders just gone past, dashed a few paces up the road, then followed in their tracks. Only a second, and she, too, was out of sight among the dark trunks of the forest. No one had noticed the boy kneeling by his wounded, perhaps dying mother. Again the boy's faith was shaken, and doubt took possession of his soul. "My mother, my dearly loved mother!" cried he, the tears streaming from his eyes on to her pale face, "are you going to die in such an atrocious manner, ridden down by the horse of a rich man? O, no, awake, awake ! " But no, she showed no signs of life. "Woe is me! What shall I do? Help! help!" And Maurits began to shout with all his strength No one came. Slowly the beloved mother's blood coursed through the green grass. Maurits bared his breast, tore a strip from his shirt, and with it bound the gaping wound as well as he could. Then springing up he hastened to a ditch near by, from which he re- turned with his cap full of water, and proceeded to 272 THE PLAY OF FATE bathe her deathly pale face. The poor woman began to manifest signs of returning consciousness. Her closed eyes opened slowly, and her bosom was seen to heave, giving vent to a sigh. She is still alive," said Maurits, trembling with anguish as he contemplated her, "but where shall I take her? Heavenly Father, whence shall I receive assistance and rescue?" "Here!" said a voice behind him. Maurits sprang up, and turned around. Jacob Kron stood before him. "Quick! " cried Maurits, "save my mother, and I will renew the oath which you extracted from me when a child Hannibal's oath against the rich." "Good!" said the beggar coldly; "I'll do what I can. A little hut, just now untehanted, lies a stone's throw from here, deep in the forest. We will take your mother there, and I will fetch a priest and a doctor. Poor woman!" added he, with a bitter smile of scorn, "she will desire the comforts of religion be- fore she dies. That will be something to her." Assisted by Maurits, Jacob lifted the still half un- conscious woman from the ground, whereupon they crossed the highway and disappeared by a little foot- path that wound r.mong the trees toward the depths of the forest. SCENE FOURTH Mid-day. An open place in the forest surrounded by shade trees, and watered by a refreshingly cool spring. The servants are engaged in emptying several large baskets of their contents, consisting of all kinds of cold meats, wine, and other articles of refreshment, THE GREAT HUNTING PARTY 273 and arranging a tempting repast upon the green sward. In the distance, here and there, are heard the baying of hounds, the blast of the hunting horn, and now and then a shot. Everything looks beautiful and fresh in the summer-clad forest. "Pierre, there is no champagne!" exclaimed one of the servants, having reached the bottom of a basket. "O, ho! I have a special basket here for champagne and sherry, of which -the count is so fond, See here!" He held a white sealed bottle up to the view of his companion. "How many of the boys have you, Pierre?" asked the latter. "Ten, besides a whole regiment of Port, Rhine and Moselle, as we are to brew a bowl of Carolina." "It is only fair, then, Pierre, that we have a taste of the good cheer. What do you say?" "Certainly, for no one will look out for that if we do not. The count has little concern about any other than himself. Do you think he will remember the servants with a bottle? Not much!" "Will we not do well to look out for ourselves?" said the other, at the same time lifting a bottle from the basket, "Who keeps account of the wine? Not our master, by any means." "Do you think so?" answered Pierre thoughtfully, listening attentively on every side. "Yes. It will be very easy to get the cork out of this one. Only a few pulls with a knife, and away it will go into the air." "I will not do it," continued Pierre. "And you, Jean?" "Neither will I," said his companion, at the same time cutting the wires that held the cork. "Bang! there, we have it." 274 THE PLAY OF FATE The cork flew into the air, and a portion of the effer- vescing wine flew over the clothes of Jean. Conveying the bottle hastily to his mouth, he emptied half of the contents into his stomach, then handed the re- mainder to his comrade, who soon finished it. "So," said the latter, throwing the empty bottle among the trees; "now dry your clothes, and we will give the signal that all is read}'." Jean obeyed, then placing a large hunting horn to h's lips, blew a blast that made the woods echo again. It vas the signal for the assembling. The hungry and tired hunters soon began to arrive from different quarters, some laden with game, others empty-handed. ''Well," said Eberhard, who was among the first to reach the spot, "are all here? No, some are still wanting, but that can't be helped. According to agree- ment, we are not to wait for them. Be seated, Baron Ehrenstam. Angela, my Angela, seat yourself here at my side. Baron Y , throw yourself down upon the green grass by Lieutenant X . There come some more hunters. Welcome, gentlemen. The glasses beckon us." The hunters tied their horses to the surrounding trees, near where the dinner was spread, and threw themselves with ineffable pleasure upon the green. Crispin and Angela had arrived together. While tying their horses near each other, the Frenchman addressed the woman in a low tone: "There will be a great carousal during and after dinner. When the gayety is at its height, we must steal away, loosen our horses, and disappear. I'll give you the signal when we are to go. You are to hasten in. advance to the appointed meeting-place, and I will be with you soon. It will not do for us to leave at the same time." THE GREAT HUNTING PARTY 275 "I understand," said Angela. The two conspirators took their places among the other guests. We need hardly say that the dinner was delightful. Songs, toasts, and music divided the time and enliv- ened the hour. After the repast, during which the wine had not been spared, a steaming bowl was brought forth. The rejoicing was at its culminating point. The whole of this animating scene was lighted up by the clearest of spring suns, whose warm rays, falling from a cloudless sky, contributed in no small degree to the pleasures of the rural feast. Finally, accompanied by the hunters' horns, the tones of Bellman's Idyl floated on the breeze: "Rest by this spring, etc." Only a stone's throw from this spot lay, concealed among the trees^ a little, half rotten hut, wherein was sheltered a dying woman, a child, and a refugee from the laws of the land. The sounds of the horns, of the bustle, the laugh ami jests, penetrated the dilapidated door and the shattered window to the dying woman, who lay stretched upon an improvised bed of weeds and grass in a corner of the single room. "Maurits," said she with failing voice, "give me a drop of water; I faint." "Pierre," cried Eberhard, a few yards away, "give me a sherry glass. That punch is truly good, but " "Mother," said Maurits, weeping, as he held a broken bowl filled with water to her lips, "O, say that you will not die! Say that you may yet recover, or I will kill myself at your side." 276 THE PLAY OF FATE "I wonder how it fared with that boy and woman that your horse knocked down," said the baron in an undertone, picking his teeth. "Such people, as a rule, however, can stand a tumble without much harm." "Poor woman, unfortunate child!" muttered Jacob Kron, who, with folded arms, stood leaning against the window-sill in the hut. "What a cruel fate pursues you! The last weak tie that holds that youth to hope, to virtue, to faith, is now to be severed as it was severed for me. For the many thousand lamentable endeavors, foolish struggles, what is our gain?" A ringing blast from a hunter's horn was at this instant borne upon the winds to his ears, cutting short the soliloquy of the wretched man, rendering him silent. "Where is Angela?" said Eberhard, a moment later, looking around him anxiously. "Has anyone seen her?' 1 No one answered. Most of his guests were half drunk. The count was unable to make himself heard amidst the noise of the company. "Man!" he shouted vehemently, grasping Lieuten ant X by the arm, and giving him a violent shake, "answer! Have you see Angela? and Crispin? He is also missing. What does this mean?" "I don't know " stammered the lieuienanl, who was already well mellowed; "they have ri ri ridden away, I think." "Ridden away! " shrieked the count in anguish. "Ha, I see! Their horses are also gone. Death and the devil! " No one heeded Eberhard's words, for the glasses were steadily going the rounds, and the punch bowl was filled anew by the attentive Pierre, who, no sooner than one was disposed of, had a new preparation in readiness. THE GREAT HUNTING PARTY 277 "Gentlemen!" roared Eberhard in rage, "hush your accursed prattle, and hear what I have to say." In vain. The most sober of the company were silent for an instant; but the others were even more noisy than before. The count could nowhere gain attention. At last, grasping Baron Ehrenstam, who had drunk sparingly, he drew him aside, and ex- claimed, in a voice which clearly betrayed his dis- turbance of mind: "My dear baron, can you tell me whither my mis- tress is fled? She has disappeared." "Disappeared?" said the baron surprised. "She was surely here only a short time ago. She has doubtless left this noisy company to refresh herself with a walk in the woods. Consider that a lone woman, and a woman of intelligence such as she, is not likely to find a crowd of half drunken men the most agreeable companions. Compose yourself, she will return soon." "I will hope so," said the count, smothering his anxiety, "but Crispin! Crispin is also missing." "Indeed!" exclaimed the baron, looking about him, "that looks strange. Being occupied in lively conver- sation with Captain K , I have not noticed what was going on around me. Let us ride out and search for them." So be it," said the count. "From these heroes of the cup we may hope for no assistance. Leave them, therefore, to their fate. " Eberhard announced to the most sober of the com- pany that a matter of importance compelled him to leave them for a time. He would return shortly, how- ever, and bade them not to be disturbed. There was soon a general remounting 7 . Within a half hour, the place was deserted by all except Pierre 278 THE PLAY OF FATE and Jean, who were left to gather up the remains of the feast. Until late in the night, .Eberhard wandered around in the neighborhood, inquiring, calling, searching. Nowhere could he find a trace of the vanished couple. No one had seen them. In despair, he finally returned home, conflicting thoughts chasing each other through his brain. Vainly he sought an interpretation of the strange circum- stances connected with this unaccountable disappear- ance that had, at the same time, deprived him of his mistress and his friend. It was not long, however, until he found a solution to the riddle. CHAPTER VI AN. EPISODE It was midnight. Eberhard had sent a number of the servants out to search for the missing pair. One after the other returned without bringing any trust- worthy information. Overwhelmed with misery, Eberhard wandered from room to room of the spacious mansion. He was alone, deserted by all, by everything, except his conscience. "Ha, what is this! "he burst forth, upon discovering a letter lying on the Frenchman's table, addressed to himself. "A letter to me! and in Crispin's hand!" He grasped it eagerly and was about to break the seal but, on the instant, a violent trembling shook his limbs and rendered powerless his hands. He knew instinctively that this letter meant his destruction. For an instant, he was almost tempted to burn it with- out learning its contents, but curiosity gained the mastery. "No, it would be cowardly," muttered he with quiv- ering lips. "I will look my fate in the face. Read, then!" He broke the seal, and, slowly unfolding the letter, proceeded to read, leaning the while against the writ- ing table. The contents were as follows: "MoN CHER EBERHARD: Without doubt, you will, with great surprise, see yourself deserted at once by your friend and your mistress. It belongs to me, there- 279 280 THE PLAY OF FATE fore, to lay before you the attendant circumstances. You have shown me great hospitality, and in grati- tude, I will relate to you a little story. "One night during the Reign of Terror in France, a traveling .carriage dashed with lightning speed through the streets of Paris, and passed out of the city by the south gate. In that carriage sat an old man, a young man and a girl of sixteen. "The young man, whose baptismal name was Antony, had been, up to this hour, one of the leaders of the most powerful Jacobin clubs in the city. In this character he had gained great influence over the masses. His word was a power among the authorities, and his popularity threatened to become dangerous. This notwithstanding, he had left behind him all the brilliant prospects that this popularity opened to him. He departed from Paris, the wrestling place of polit- ical passions, deserted the field upon which he had dreamed of victory, honor and influence, and that to follow the fortunes of an old man and a child to Italy. The motive to this was: That old man and his daugh- ter had been arraigned before the tribunal, and con- demned to die as legitimists. The guillotine awaited them. You know that in those days they made short work of the accused. "Antony, who loved the young girl, had determined, even at the risk of his life, to snatch her and her father from the fate that menaced them. It was no light undertaking to rescue from the bloodthirsty mass a political offering. The rabble, accustomed to daily scenes of blood, threatened to tear in pieces every one who ventured to proclaim himself one of the hated aristocrats. "In spite of the dangers and difficulties that beset AN EPISODE 28l him, Antony did not lose with courage. He plead Robespierre, Danton and the other powers in the bloody reign, for the life of the young girl and her father. The endeavor was not crowned with the hope of success. The young man was shown the door, and himself came near falling a sacrifice to his temerity, whereupon he arrived at a bold determination. He changed all his property into money, bribed the guards, and had the good fortune, in this manner, to liberate both the condemned from the prison wherein they had been confined. Through the midst of the raving mob, he conducted them unharmed out of blood- begrimed Paris. "For love, he left behind him his political career, and was counted among the proscribed, in consequence of which he did not dare return to France. "In one of Italy's beautiful valleys, he purchased, with the remainder of his money, a little villa which he placed at the disposal of the fugitives. Here he passed his days in their company, and here the rescued girl pledged him, under oath, her eternal fidelity a love which only death should sunder. "The clouds of the revolution rolled over the valley without disturbing them. Antony was happy, for love, the first, that warm, youthful love, burned in his soul, and the phantoms of ambition that had formerly filled it faded away and disappeared. "At his Mathilda's side, he wandered in the dark green shade of the myrtles that adorn the charming banks of the Arno. The girl, bound to him by a tie of gratitude, thought herself too young yet to be com- mitted to another and more tender tie. "Agreeable to her own and her father's wishes, An- tony awaited impatiently her eighteenth year when he might lead her to the altar. 282 THE PLAY OF FATE "Robespierre had fallen. The Reign of Terror had ceased in France. A quieter period succeeded. And the proscribed citizens, for the most part, returned to their fatherland and possessions. Mathilda's father, with his daughter and prospective son in-law, could now also return to Paris, and his great wealth having been restored to him, he was put in a position to re- sume his former place in the social world. Mathilda ripened every day to greater beauty, and soon her father's salon was filled with young men of fashion in competition for her hand. She remained a long time true to her rescuer and her vows, however, and de- clined on his account even the most flattering offers. Antony, on his side, more fiercely in love than ever, impatiently counted the days that now remained before the time when he might call her his. "It approached with long strides. Soon only a few months intervened until the bans should be published. But before that day arrived, something happened that immediately dissipated all of Antony's plans, and threw him into the depths of despair and rage. "A traveling foreigner had been introduced by some friend to Mathilda's father. He was a young gentle- man of rank from a distant northern country. En- dowed with a princely fortune, he was making his grande tour of Europe, and, like all other tourists, had determined to spend a winter in its capital, Paris. His appearance was agreeable; his conversation refined, witty and invigorating, and his character clean, spot- less and above reproach. All these excellent qualities, rarely enough found in one and the same person, and, besides, augmented by great wealth and the accom- panying luxuries, could not fail to make a deep im- pression upon the young Mathilda's mind. With rest- AN EPISODE 283 less jealousy, Antony marked how willingly she list- ened to the conversation of the- foreigner, her blush when he approached and her embarrassment when he addressed her. The young man also seemed smitten with Mathilda's beauty and lovely grace, and the more they were together, the more Antony, with moody glance and crime in his heart, drew aloof. "This continued for some weeks. Count for such was his title, came nearly every evening to the hotel that was owned and occupied as a home by Mathilda's father. He was looked upon with favor by the old man, who little suspected his daughter's inclination, and with steadily augmented delight by the latter, who, every time the count, by some accident, failed to appear, was sorely troubled to conceal her uneasi- ness. Meantime, the unfaithful girl wavered between her newly awakened love and her covenant with An- tony. It was, however, only gratitude that now bound her to the latter, and the shame of breaking faith with the rescuer of her father and herself had not been entirely effaced by her growing attachment to the for- eigner. But it came soon that her passion gained the mastery. One day Antony surprised her in the arms of the count. "Why should I here be diffuse? You ought to under- stand the feelings that at this instant convulsed the young man's soul. Deceived in his dream of joy, cast out, ruined, he withdrew in a condition bordering on insanity. "Some months latter, the marriage of Mathilda and the foreigner took place. "Antony was not at the wedding, but stood outside the hotel and contemplated the young bride, radiant in youth and beauty, as she showed herself on the stairs for the gratification of the curious people. 284 THE PLAY OF PATE "Antony pressed forward through the crowd. His glaring eyes met those of his former love for an in slant. The dreadful expression therein frightened her. She staggered and caught the happy bridegroom's arm. Thereupon Antony sprang upon the steps, bent forward and whispered a few words in her ear. "She became deathly pale, and, with a loud cry of terror, sank senseless into the arms of a bridesmaid. "The words that so frightened her were these: "'Delilah! Tremble for my revenge! It shall pur- sue you and yours, and demand bloody recompense, though you hide yourself in the bowels of the earth. No mercy for you! I swear it, and my oath will not be like yours.' "This terrible oath Antony has kept. His thirst for revenge could not be slaked even though his threats and hate laid the ground-work of an ever-consuming anxiety in his former love, embittered her life, and prematurely opened her grave. Antony, who now lived only for revenge, had determined that the curse upon her crime should reach every member of her family; should precipitate her children, if she should have any, into the most helpless moral destruction. "A considerable wealth, which the death of a rela- tive brought into his possession about this time, facil- itated his plans. With the persistency of a shadow, he followed the newly wedded couple as long as they remained in France, and many times, in the mcst ele- gant social circles of Paris, the opportunity was given him to see the universally popular countess pale to deathly whiteness when he fastened upon her his fore- boding glance. "The count and his wife finally took up their resi- dence in a little villa in the suburbs of Paris. Here AN EPISODE 285 they waited for the accouchement, for Mathilda was soon to become a mother. "Antony disguised himself and found quarters in the neighborhood. Mathilda's child was a girl. On the night of its birth, with the connivance of the mid- wife, the newly born child was exchanged for one still born, which he had procured from a peasant woman near by. Fortune favored him. Mathilda believed, when she recovered conciousness after her severe strug- gle, that her child had died soon after its birth. She did not suspect the deception, for, as you know, the child of the peasant and the count are alike at birth. Meanwhile, after rewarding his accomplice for her treachery, and binding her to silence by a terrible oath, Antony fled with his prey. "The dead child was buried, and the parents shed their tears of bereavement upon the grave of their supposed first born. Antony now went to Southern France, where he busied himself with the bringing up of the stolen child. "'She shall indemnify me for what I have suffered,' thought he. 'I will rear her, not to become my wife, but my mistress. This shall be the first link in the chain of revenge.' And he burned into the girl's arm a symbol that should in one indicate her double des- tiny. This symbol consisted of a blood red rose with- in the coils of a serpent. The rose indicated love, the serpent hate and cunning artifice." At this point in the letter, Eberhard felt a shudder dart through his body, his legs swayed, the cold sweat broke out on his forehead,, his eyes stared specter like into the darkness. For a long time he could not muster sufficient power to continue the reading. JJe 286 THE PLAY OF FATE now saw through everything and was horrified at the depth of crime and degradation to which his mother's faithlessness and Antony's implacable hate had plunged him. His father's murderer, his sister's He dared not think the devilish thought to its conclusion. "It is impossible!" muttered he with quivering lips. "He is deceiving me. The prince of hell himself could hardly go so far in infernal hate. He lies, the scoun- drel!" Thus the count sought to delude himself, though, upon further reflection, he was compelled to abandon the hope. That his mother, a year before his own birth, gave birth in France to a girl, and that this girl died soon after coming into the world so much he knew; of Crispin's love for the deceased countess, he had even heard rumors, but the accompanying circumstances, in detail, were quite new to him. The countess, for obvious reasons, had never alluded to the subject. Eberhard had therefore thought that Crispin's pas- sion was of a transient nature, and that, without ex- periencing considerable pain, he had been cast off for the richer Count Stjernekrantz. So much greater was the surprise of the terrible narrative contained in the letter. At last, the count summoned strength to resume. With difficulty he kept in check the multitude of pas- sions that were at work within him, and proceeded, still supporting himself against the table. "Collect yourself, Eberhard," continued Crispin in his letter, "for at this point, you will without doubt, rush into fury and curses. Collect yourself, my friend, and proceed with composure. AN EPISODE 287 "Angela (such was the name given to Mathilda's daughter, for she should be his angel) grew up under his eyes in the villa in Provence where he dwelt. She was already four years old, and her uncommon beauty promised the young man a rich return for the faith- lessness ol her ungrateful mother. "About this time, an accident occurred that came near wiping out all of Antony's plans. "He had been away a few days. When he returned, he found his house plundered, and the little Angela carried away. A band of gypsies was suspected of the outrage. "Antony's sorrow and rage were without bounds when he saw his prey thus snatched from his hands. For many years he pursued the most untiring but fruitless search. "A long lime thereafter, while passing a summer in Toulouse, he one day saw a band of gypsies march- ing past his windows. Leading them, singing Span- ish ballads and accompanying her voice with a zither, was a little girl. "Her beauty and unusual talent attracted Antony's attention. He commanded that she be brought to him, a something seeming to tell him that he had found in her his long-lost foster daughter. "His suspicions were confirmed. A glance at her arm showed him the ominous sign which he himself had one time affixed there. He was jubilant. Angela was found. He at once summoned the gypsy chief, and questioned him as to where he had stolen the girl. "He at first denied having stolen her, but upon An- tony's threatening him with the power of the law, also demonstrating that the child belonged to him, and 288 THE PLAY OF FATE stating the time and place of her abduction, the gypsy ventured no further denial, but relinquished Angela to her former owner, was forgiven hie crime, and received a considerable sum of money. "Angela was now about ten years old. The best teachers were procured for her, by whom she was in- structed in languages, history and music. Her voice developed to a richness that surprised. even her teach- ers, who prophesied that she would one day become a songstress of renown. "Antony did not forget his own plans, however. He early awoke in the child's innocent heart a passionate love for her benefactor. As early as her sixteenth year, she fell upon his breast, beautiful, captivating, captivated. "In the same Italian villa where Mathilda had wan- dered at his side in former days, Antony now took up his residence with her daughter, his beautiful mis- tress. A year passed in love's ravishing intoxication as in a* dream Out of the same chalice, Antony drew balsam for both his love and his hate. The serpent entwined itself with terrible and destructive certainty around the stem of that luxurious rose. "Angela knew nothing of Antony's former relation to her. She was not aware that she had dwelt under his roof before falling into the hands of the gypsies. She saw in him only her deliverer from the rude and ig- nominious condition in which she had formerly lived, and she rewarded him therefore with the whole of her young, warm heart's .undivided affection. "But Antony's restless soul wearied at last of the inactivity of life in the valley. He longed for new adventures, and to follow up his plan of revenge to the utmost. He had uttered an oath in the ear of his AN EPISODE 289 first love. He wished for this purpose to hunt her down in the land of her husband, which was now her own. Procuring a position for Angela in the theater of Milan, where her extraordinary talent soon made her the chief ornament of the lyric stage of that city, he departed shortly after from Italy. When he sepa- ated from his mistress, he addressed her: "'Enjoy, conquer, drink deep of pleasures. I give you leave. The fidelity that I demand from you is fidelity of the soul. Preserve it for me, however else you may bestow your favors. I shall return, and if you are fortunate enough to have gained the highest pinnacles of fame, do not forget that you have me to thank for all. Do not forget that it is I alone who am your master to whose wishes you must yield every- thing.' "And leaning upon Antony's breast, Angela swore an oath of obedience and fidelity that no variations of fortune should efface. ''She kept her oath. "'Now to the north,' said Antony to himself. 'Ma- thilda, I will crush you as the storm ravages a rlower. ' "But death had already called Mathilda to the grave when he arrived at her home. Sorrow, repentance and the torment of conscience had prematurely gnawed away her life. She had left behind her, however, a son, a boy of sixteen. "You know the rest, Eberhard. "You know how Antony, at the foot of the faith- less one's grave, slowly but surely instilled the poi- son of the teacher into the heart of the pupil. You know, too, how he systematically -undermined the faith of the youth in the beautiful, the good, the holy; how he initiated him into the heretical systems of Voltaire THE PLAY OF FATE and Diderot; how he sowed the seeds of sin in his unsuspecting soul ; awoke and stimulated the slumber- ing passions, and above all, how he nourished and kept alive the bitterness that had already arisen in the boy's breast against the author of his being, his just though austere father. "But when the latter mistrusted the insidious and hurtful influence of the foreigner, Antony was torced to leave the north. The evil had taken root, neverthe- less, and was incurable. Its seeds have sprung, up and borne fruit. "Some years later, fate brought the teacher and pu- pil together again. The latter was then traveling, after his father's death, as a grand seigneur through Europe. Antony again became his companion, his friend, his teacher. He followed him a second time to the north, and, later, when the count's restless soul would not be comforted at home, Antony wandered anew with him through Germany, France, Italy, and the orient. "Antony, his means having already been exhausted, lived like a prince at the expense of his superabund- antly wealthy friend. He shared his pleasures, en- couraged his extravagances, his vices, his crimes, and if at any time a spark of repentance asserted itself, his traveling companion was alwaj's ready, with long and profound deductions, to demonstrate the absurdity of the struggle of mankind against fate; that is to say, against human passions, and in consequence thereof, the absurdity of all compunction. "It was during their residence in Italy that the young count heard and saw Angela, now one of the most fa- mous of Europe's singers. A violent passion was ere long ablaze in his breast, and the beautiful girl soon AN EPISODE 291 reckoned him among her most ardent adorers. Antony saw it. A demoniacal smile curled his lips. He said nothing, but allowed fate to take her course. Then the furies of revenge exulted within his soul. Tri- umphantly he burst out, 'Mathilda, look at your chil- dren! "I will here close my narrative, Eberhard. You know the rest. You have seen how the father's mis- deeds are visited upon the child a hundredfold. I cannot help it. I have merely revenged myself. "We flee from your country after plundering you, not alone of your gold, but even also of your peace of mind. I hate you no longer. And if I have done you irreparable harm, think what I myself have suffered. "You may object, 'I am not responsible, the fault was my mother's. I have treated you as a friend, I have given you my confidence, and you have repaid me with treachery, have plunged me and my unknown sister into the deepest degradation.' "If you say this, Eberhard, I must acknowledge that you are right, but I will add, do not blame me, but fate. "There goes through the world a merciless, irrecon- cilable genius. The Greeks called it Nemesis, the Christians named it retribution. I have been that di- vinity's instrument, Eberhard. Can I help it? I have determined that my revenge should attain to the ut- most. I did not expect my hate to reach a limit, Eb- erhard. I feel, however, at this instant, that it is ap- peased. As an earnest thereof, I will say a few words to you, which you, least of all, should* expect to hear from me. Hitherto, in my conversation with you, I have absolutely denied the possibility of atonement. 2Q2 THE PLAY OF FATE I have done it to complete my revenge- to snatch every hope, every prospect of reformation from you, but I did not utter my honest convictions. As confi- dently as I believe in the inexorable law of retribution, in the Greek Nemesis, I as confidently believe in the possibility of atonement. There is, however, no atonement without suffering. Yours has been deep, terrible. Your crimes weigh you to the ground. Your passions have ravaged your soul as lava from a volcano ravishes a valley. To make amends will be difficult, but not impossible, I do not deny it. A useful and earnest industry will save you, it maybe, from despair and insanity. I have talked with you, heretofore, only of pleasure. That I speak to you now of work arises from that I have almost come to pity your fate, for, I repeat, my hate is appeased. "And now farewell, Eberhard. Do not endeavor to find me. It will be useless. Bury what I have re- vealed to you in the depths of your breast and destroy my letter. We shall never meet again. "Angela will no longer appear as a songtress. She shall follow me to whatever corner of the world I may choose to take her. Her heart belongs to me abso- lutely. You, she has never loved. Farewell. "ANTONY CRISPIN." After completing the perusal of this letter, Eberhard sank down upon a sofa and covered his face with his hands. He sat thus for a long time while the most furious agitation of mind was at work within him, almost threatening to choke him. At length he rose hastily from his seat, grasped the heart sickening letter and, tearing it into a thousand bits, trampled it under his feet. AN EPISODE 293 "O, you devil!" he hissed with compressed lips. "You talk of expiation after you have hurled me into an abyss from which rescue is impossible. My father's murderer, my sister's lover! Caesar Borgia, you were a child in comparison! "'Reparation!' he says. 'Useful occupation!' Ha, ha! He knew very well that "those words would only pour oil upon the fire that is consuming me. He knew that he would throw another fire-brand into my heart, that he would awake a demon 'Repentance!' "In these two words, 'repentance and restitution,' uttered with affected sympathy, lies the consummation of his devilish revenge. He would sow a seed of mistrust in my soul, mistrust of the very system which he himself has implanted in me, the system of disbe- lief and cold egoism upon which I have heretofore re- lied. He would undermine it in order to hurl me into another gulf, despair. Yes, for he foresaw that such a struggle would work my utter ruin. He gives me a hint of the necessity of repentance in order that I, for whom such a thing is impossible, may in the knowledge thereof destroy myself with a fruitless struggle. After instilling into me the belief in materi- alism and the natural sequence of things after laying a foundation upon which I have stood securely with all my burdens, all my crimes, he now seeks to beat it from under me that I may fall a helpless sacrifice, like a ship in a storm without a rudder. By the powers that be, he shall not succeed! The foundation is firm, firmer than ever! The narrative that this letter contains is a further demonstration of the falsity of the teach- ing that our religion presents. My mother was guilty of treachery. . She was ungrateful and perjured herself.. Here is the sequel. The curse fell upon the children 294 THE P LAY OF FATE because of the mother's crime. The innocent were cast into the deepest mire, the daughter becomes the deserted lover' s mistress, her son becomes his father's murderer, and at last, unconsciously, his sister's le- man. And there is a God, a providence, that allows such things!" Eberhard was silent. With uneasy pace he meas- ured the floor. Finally he paused and resumed: "I am deserted by the only ones I ever loved. So be it. I will go my course alone, and woe to them who come in my way ! But all is not yet lost. The fugitives may be found. I will try." Eberhard looked out through the window. Day was already breaking. He grasped the bell -cord and rang. In a few minutes a servant entered. "Order a carriage!." exclaimed the count. "I shall leave here in half an hour. ;I The servant bowed and retired. CHAPTER VII THE DEATH BED While this was transpiring at Odensvik, an entirely different scene was being enacted in the deserted hut whither Mrs. Sterner had been borne by Jacob Kron and Maurits. The wound inflicted by the hoof of the count's horse was in itself of little significance, but the fall and shock had caused a hemorrhage that soon threatened to sap her little remaining life. Pastor Bergholm had been sent for and, as soon as he could dispatch a messenger after a doctor, he had hastened to the dying woman's side, fearing that to remove her from the place where she was then lying would augment the danger of her condition. The good pastor commanded that various articles of com- fort be brought her, whereby she was provided with bedding and warm, nourishing food. The broken window was then repaired so that the chill night air was in a meaasure shut out, and in the fireplace a glowing fire was soon ablaze which lighted and warmed the dingy room. When the pastor had seen his commands executed, and his patient as comfortable as possible, to further alleviate the sufferings of the sick woman, if might be, he remained until late in the night in the miserable hut which seemed in momentary danger of falling down upon them. With the dying woman's hand in his, he sat at her bedside speaking words of peace 295 296 THE PLAY OF FATE and comfort, and the sick woman smiled, her sightless eyes directed toward heaven, as if with her inner sight she could see the figure of her dreams floating over her. Her other hand rested on Maurits' head. He, bending low in extreme pain, laid his head on her bed. In a corner of the room, wholly concealed by the darkness, crouched Jacob Kron, who, having industri- ously acted the part of messenger, was still almost unnoticed by the others. After the pastor had talked long concerning spirit- ual matters, and after promising her that in the event of her death he would be the guardian of her child, the blind mother, who at first showed signs of distress and anxiety, seemed to be at ease and contented. "God be praised," she whispered faintly. "Youf promise has taken the thorns from my death-bed. My son will not be entirely alone in the world. He will have a faithful friend in you. Is it not so?" "Yes, yes, poor woman," said the pastor with feel- ing. "I will not abandon him. I promise you that. The pot that boils for four can easily be made to boil for five. Your son shall have a home under my roof. I am poor, but God will help me in my good en- deavor." "You are the good angel of the poor and bereaved, noble friend of mankind," said the mother, pressing his hand weakly. "God will reward and bless you and your children." "But," she continued, "I have, through our man}' years of want and suffering, saved a little sum of money for my son. It is all that remains of my former pros- perity, the receipts from a few articles of luxury given me by my husband. It is in an envelope in one of THE DEATH-BED 2Q7 the drawers of my bureau, and by its side lies another of greater value. These two packages I wish you would have brought here before 1 die. The bureau, as you know, is at the parsonage, and I have the key here. " "You have saved a sum of money for your son!" cried the pastor in astonishment, "and that through these long years of need and misery, without being tempted to make use of it! O, mother's heart! Mother's love! Stronger than death! You see even beyond the grave, Mightier than misery, you sustain the burdened heart through the most cruel struggles." "Herr Pastor," interrupted the sick woman, "will you have brought here the two packages, and a little gold ring with a blue stone setting that lies in the same drawer, now the only memento left me from him? " "I will go after them at once," said the pastor ris- ing. "It will not be long until my return. Give me the key. " Mrs. Sterner unfastened the key which hung around her neck, and handed it to the pastor. "Will you go this evening, pastor?" said she. "Is it not already late? It seems as if I had passed many hours here." "Hours of pain are long, my daughter," said the pastor. "It is still day, however. It lacks, at least, two hours of sunset." The pastor took his hat and was about to go. When he reached the door, he paused suddenly and ex- claimed : "Before I go, I wish to know more in detail the circumstances of this unfortunate accident. That you were run down and trampled by a horse, so much I know, but who was the horseman?" 2QO THE PLAY OF FATE "I do not know," said Mrs. Sterner. "I have not thought to ask since I became conscious. Maurits may know how it occurred." "You were ridden down, mother," said the boy sob- bing. "There were two horsemen. He whose horse went over you was our former master, the count at Odensvik. " "Whom did you say, my child!" cried the woman, rising hastily in her bed, "who was it? "Count Stjernekrantz! 11 exclaimed the pastor, who had not observed Mrs. Sterner's agitation; "and he rode on, paying no attention to the accident?" "Yes," said Maurits, bitterly, "he had not time. He was out hunting with a great party." "O, God, thy ways are beyond comprehension! " muttered the sick woman, a convulsive trembling passing through her frame. "Ridden down by him! Trampled to death by his horse! Great God!" With hands joined, she sank back upon her couch. Her lips moved. She prayed for her murderer, per- haps. "It is inhuman! Ir burst forth the pastor in righteous indignation. "I will go to that graceless scamp and read him a lecture from the law. He seems to be wholly calloused. Without a blush, he lives openly with a concubine whom he brought with him from abroad, and, while planning banquets and merry mak- ings for her pleasure, a poor woman whom he first hunted from her home is now here dying, murdered by him. It is scandalous, abominable!" The pastor departed muttering. A deep silence ensued, interrupted only by Maurits' sobs. Mrs. Sterner made an effort to speak to him ? to consols him, but she felt herself too weak for the THE DEATH-BED 2QQ effort. After some minutes, she fell into a quiet sleep, while Maurits remained kneeling at her bedside. After a time he felt a hand laid upon his shoulder. Jacob Kron, with silent tread, had neared him. "Boy," whispered Jacob, "your mother sleeps. Fol- low me out for a minute. I have a word to say to you. " Maurits obeyed, though unwillingly. He would not be ungrateful to the poor man who had shown him such kindness. "Maurits," said Jacob, when they had reached the open air, "I wish only to bid you farewell. I cannot remain with you longer, but I would ask one favor before I go." "What can I do for you?" asked the boy. "You have a trinket," answered Jacob, "that once belonged to me. Return it to me, for its possession will bring curses and misfortunes upon you. To me it will not matter, for I am unfortunate any way can't be more so. " "No," returned Maurits, "you once promised me that I might retain" it. Moreover, I have become its possessor at the peril of my life, and it is dear to me." "But it has cost me much more," persisted Jacob, "and, too, I shall need it in a few years when I expect a plan I have conceived to be ripe for execution. To me it can be of service, to you only harm and, may be, your destruction." "Bah!" replied Maurits, shrugging his shoulders, "I do not believe in such superstitions. It shall remain in my possession for the present, at any rate. If at any time in the years to come it promises to be use- ful to you, come to me, let me into your plans, when, 3OO THE PLAY OF FATE if I approve them, I will restore your mother's be- quest to you." "Beware," said Jacob, "once again I warn you. You do not know the whole history of that amber heart." "True," answered Maurits, "yet I am not childish enough, should misfortune sometime overtake me, to impute it to the possession of a senseless bit of stone." "Do not say that, but listen to me," said Jacob. "That singular ornament was given by rny father to his first wife, whose initials are yet to be seen on it. It was during the sunny days of their love, as the saying goes. The young wife suspended the simple ornament from her neck, and treasured it next her bosom as a token of her husband's affection. This affection was of short duration, however. The lady's tears soon bedewed the amber heart which they would have easier melted than the heart of her husband. That my father is a man of violent temper, you know. One da)', in an outburst of fur) 7 , he abused his wife in the presence of one of the servants, during which he tore from her neck the silken ribbon confining his present. The trinket was never returned to her. The lady soon after died broken-hearted, and the amber heart was next given to my mother for whom the great man had suddenly formed a passion. The rest you know. You know that its possessor died a miserable death in the poor-house; you know that her son, who then inherited it, became a prey to misfortunes of all kinds and, finally, you, since it fell into your hands, have seen your hopes shattered one after the other and the pleasant dreams of your boyhood vanish into nothingness. Once more, give it to me." THE DEATH-BED 3OI "No, Jacob," said Maurits, "in spite of these gloomy forebodings, I will keep it. I have a presenti- ment that it will one day bring me good fortune." "Do you still believe in fortune, poor fool?" said Jacob compassionately. "Have you not found that there is no such thing as happiness for the children of want? Do you not know that as you have heretofore been humiliated you will continue to be, certainly as long as you meekly kiss the hand that smites you?" "But I will not kiss it," returned Maurits earnestly. "I do not intend to remain in my present condition. I am resolved to carve my way to something better. No misfortune, however exasperating, shall swerve me, deprive me of courage or turn me from my pur- pose to work out my independence. I will steel my- self against them. I have so sworn, and if my mother lives, I shall certainly succeed." "But she will not live, boy. She will be dead be- fore morning." "I will not believe it! " cried Maurits in agony. "I will not believe it! If it be so, I will die with her!" "And thus allow her murderer to escape and con- tinue his diversions," added Jacob with a scornful laugh. "No, my friend, if your mother dies, live to revenge her death." "The law will revenge me," said Maurits. "The murderer must surely be punished." "The law!" repeated Jacob scornfully; "do not prate of law. Have you forgotten the wise comparison of the Greek philosopher: 'The law is a spider web wherein small flies are caught, but the large gadflies tear the net in pieces and fly their way.' The heart- less count who rode your mother down with so little concern about the consequences, will be fined ten riks- 3O2 THE PLAY QF FATE dollars at most if her death is caused by the accident. This is called an abundant fine for the accidental kill- ing of a peasant. The law punishes only the cold- blooded murderer, not the accidental killing of a per- son. The court will net concern itself about the indiffer- ence and cruelty manifested by him. This the injured one himself must punish." "You are right," said Maurits, "there is no justice in punishments and rewards here on earth. I will live, therefore, to be revenged. I feel within me a power that will sustain me to the end, even though my way lead through the utmost poverty and priva- tions!" "And you persist in retaining the ornament that I claim as mine?" asked Jacob, after a short silence. "Yes, you have no right to demand it.' "Very well, keep it then. Farewell! ' "Where do you intend to go, poor Jacob?" asked Maurits sympathetically. "Have you no home?" "No, but I have a daughter, and I go to seek her." "A daughter!" "Yes. You remember, perhaps, that after living with my wife a short time, I discovered her perfidy, drove her from my door and myself fled from the re- gion where we had resided. I have roamed the world over in the vain effort to chase her memory from my mind. Sometime ago, I returned to the, village where we dwelt during those few but happy months. I there received a letter from her. She informed me therein that a daughter had been born to her whom she had named Helena. She affirmed that the child was mine. Poor and despised, with her new-born babe, she had gone to Stockholm to seek work. She importuned me to hunt her up, not for her sake, but that of my child, THE DEATH-BED 303 which, in case of its mother's death, would be left helpless to a miserable existence. As soon as I had read the letter I hastened to Stockholm. I began an indefatigable search which I continued for a whole year, but ineffectually. In despair, I left the capital, but I shall return once more to resume my quest." "Poor Jacob," said Maurits, whose compassion had almost made him forget his own sorrow, "how do you live?" "I live by my work," said Jacob with a fierce smile; "or rather, I live by my crimes." "Your crimes!" exclaimed Maurits with a suppressed shudder. "Yes, the public has made me an outcast. No one will open an avenue to me whereby I can gain a live- lihood by honorable means, so to speak; what, then, would you have me do? Starve, maybe. That would be the most proper according to the views of moral- ists who will not allow that one, even though he be perishing from hunger, may steal so much as a crust of bread from the children of luxury. But I am no moralist, I am a fatalist. If fate has ordained that misfortune and crime shall be the lot of one, and pros- perity and virtue that of another, it is neither the fault of the one nor the merit of the other if he conducts himself accordingly. The human will is not always sufficient. So much, I think, I have found." "It is, then, as I have long suspected!" exclaimed Maurits, turning away, "you are a thief!" "Yes, but I am not a common thief," answered Jacob with a strange smile. "If I were a common thief, I would not go in rags," Maurits contemplated him with surprise. "Explain yourself," said he. 304 THE PLAY OF FATE "Listen then, my boy. I have a theory of my own on the subject of stealing. If I break into a room, for example, where I find in one place a thousand dollars, and in another some food or old cast off arti- cles of clothing, I do not disturb the money, but take the food and clothes. Do you think the ordinary thief would do so?" "No, he would take only the money." "Yes," resumed Jacob, "and I do not. But you shall hear why. Theft, for the sake of theft alone, I look upon as wrong and shameful; for, if a man who has all he requires, robs another of his property, he is in- stigated by covetousness, and a desire for gain, both of which passions are contrary to the human instinct that commands us to respect the rights of others. But if a person who, notwithstanding his many struggles to support himself in an honorable manner, is repro- bated by the public, frowned upon by all mankind, de- spised, shown the door and kicked out by all if such a person, I say, to appease his hunger, appropriates a few crumbs from the sumptuously filled larders of the rich mark well, of the rich only he is, in my opin- ion, reprehensible only so far as he takes more than he actually needs to sustain life. Moreover, he steals only that which is necessary for bodily support; he has merely indemnified himself for the public injustice which first branded him with dishonor, and then closed against him every avenue to uprightness. Therefore, I have always been careful not to take mpre than my necessities demanded. Therefore, if I find a whole and a ragged coat hanging together, I leave the whole and take the ragged one; for I regard myself as having no right to the first if the other is sufficient to shield me from the cold. Such is my theory. What do you say to it?" THE DEATH BED 305 "Many arguments might be employed in opposition," replied Maurits. ."First and foremost, were it possible that through the sympathy of kind people you might be provided with everything that you actually need " "Sympathy!" interrupted Jacob fiercely. "Do you think that I have not even tried that? Can you not believe that I was a beggar before becoming a thief? Yes, my dear child, I have tried both their sympathy and their charity. But when I asked for alms, this question was fired at me with a shrug of the shoulders, 'My dear friend, you are a young man, wtyy do you not work?' 'Because I cannot work.' 'How does that happen?' 'Well, I have been an inmate of a house of correction.' 'A house of correction! God protect me! Get thee gone!' Such was my ordinary experi- ence as a beggar. In my despair, I saw no other means of support but theft." "But you receive an inheritance," interposed Mau- rits. "You owned a little home in Westergothland, if I remember rightly. Why did you sell it, and what have you done with the proceeds?" "Why did I sell it!" exclaimed Jacob. "Ah, my child, when misery overwhelms one, and drives him to the verge of madness, he knows not what he does.. He is careless about the consequences. You know the circumstances that drove me anew and desperate into, the world. I have related to you the story of my wife's perfidy. You will understand, sometime, how I suffered, when you will not so readily condemn my rashness. But now, farewell!" The unfortunate man extended his hand to Maurits. Notwithstanding he knew it to be stained with crime Maurits did not shrink from taking it, and grasping it with friendly sympathy. 306 THE PLAY OF FATE "Farewell, poor man!" said he. "May your search be rewarded, and may it bring tranquillity to your soul!" Jacob did not respond, but drawing his hat far down over his eyes, turned and was soon lost in the distance. "Strange fate! " muttered Maurits, "that continually puts that man in my path. What do you mean by it?" A friendly voice here interrupted his meditations, and a hand was laid upon his shoulder. "Here I am again, O, puer dilcctissime!" said Pastor Bergholm? "How does it go with your sick mother?" "She is asleep, Herr Pastor. " "That is good; she may yet be saved. The doctor sends word, however, that because of other engage- ments, he cannot come before early to-morrow morn- ing." "You are very kind, dear pastor. Shall we not go in?" "Yes, surely. I have here the two packages your mother requested, also the little gold ring. We will go in and learn their history if she is awake." Mrs Sterner was still asleep when the pastor and Maurits entered the hut. They seated themselves quietly, therefore, at a little distance from the sick couch, and conversed in low tones until she should awake. At last she moved. Maurits hastened to her side, and pressed a kiss upon her pale forehead. "Is that you, my son?" asked the blind woman faintly. "Yes, mamma, it is I. How are you feeling now?" "Better, my dear. I shall soon be well again. Has the pastor returned?" "I am here, my good woman," said he, advancing to THE DEATH-BED 307 tli3 bedsids, "and I have hsre the two packages, also the gold ring you bade me bring." "Thank you," resumed the sick woman, lifting her- self laboriously to a sitting position, and pressing the ring which the pastor handed her to her lips. "Thank you again," said she; "and now bear witness to my last wishes " "Maurits, " continued Mrs. Sterner, "the lesser of these two packages contains a small sum of money, which, as you know, I have saved these man)- years for you, my son. I have, probably, done wrong in not investing it safely and in a manner to increase it. But, ah, I feared I might lose the little treasure, the all I have to leave you as an inheritance in case of my death before the completion of your education. You may understand my fears, Maurits, even though they seem exaggerated. When I am no more, Pastor Bergholrn shall take charge of this money, and expend it for you as he thinks best. I hope you will not be extravagant with it, but think of your poor mother, who, in spite of her great need, saved it for you, like the beggar who hid the diamonds among his rags. You promise me this, my darling?" "O, yes, yes!" sobbed Maurits, "your wishes shall be sacred to me, mother/' "I hope so, I believe so, my child. But listen further. The other of these packages the larger I leave in your own custody^ It is your father's testa- ment, and may one day be of consequence to your future. You are not to break the seal, however, before your twentieth birthday. Such was his wish. You will, obey it. my son?" "I swear it, clear mother! " said Maurits reverently, laying one hand upon his heart and with the other 308 THE PLAY OF FATE receiving the package his mother handed him, "and may his curses overwhelm me if I violate my oath!" "Your oath is sacred, my son," said the pastor. "He is a most miserable wretch who would violate the pledge given to a dying person." "And this ring," continued Mrs. Sterner, placing it upon her finger, "this ring may go with me to my grave." "Your wishes shall be observed in this, mother. But do not speak of the grave not yet you frighten me. " "My son!" exclaimed the dying woman, and a bright smile spread over her face on which the hand of death had already put its stamp, "do not weep. We must part, but we shall meet again. Evening approaches, life's dreary evening. To me it is sweet, refreshing as dew-drops to a withered rose. I have suffered much, my child, grant your mother the rest that only death can give. But before I go down into that quiet, where my warning voice will never more lift its sound, I have yet a few words of advice to give you; yet a promise to request no, to demand from you." "Speak, mother, I hear you." "Maurits, you, even you, as young as you are, have experienced life's bitterness. Over your childhood storms have raged. You have seen yourself sneered at and despised by those whose station was above you, the rich and powerful, those who, by the children of poverty, are designated the fortunate. I fear ah, I have long feared that because of this your heart has become embittered, that dark doubts have crept into your young mind. You have thought, and it was nat- ural that you should so think, 'Is it possible that there is a righteous God who allows us that are good and THE DEATH BED 309 virtuous to languish in misery while the bad, the hard- hearted, the uncharitable live in luxury?' Tell me, have you not thought so, my son?" "Ah, mamma, my fellow man has handled me rough- ly, and you, you whom I love more than my life, you die, trampled under the feet of our oppressor's horse. " "It is true, my son, that the designs of the Eternal are often incomprehensible to us, seemingly unjust. It is true, too, that there is here on earth no apparent analogy between punishments and rewards. But what does this show? The young man who so carelessly, and with such indifference, allowed his horse to tram- ple me to death, do you think he is more fortunate than you? Why do you call him fortunate? Because of his great wealth, his rank and power? Ah, my son, what are wealth and station if unaccompanied by peace of heart, by the soul's inner riches?^ Will you renounce God because he has distributed his treasures unequally here on earth? Then glance at that impen- itent rich man's heart. There is a canker gnawing there that will corrupt to the end of time. Therefore, my son, guard against false reasonings. You know that a life extinguished here is not ended. The wasted wick of the candle is again lighted with the light eter- nal. Why, then, should the little troubles of life lead us to doubt, to skepticism and sin? Beware of them! Though night at present envelops you, you know, nevertheless, that the star of love is shining beyond the cloud. Guard against the erroneous ideas of the fatalist, of blind chance. Such beliefs may precipi- tate you into an abyss. Listen to a mother's voice, that of a mother who has lived for you alone, who loved you before your young heart opened itself to reciprocate. Swear that you will never turn from 3IO THE PLAY OF FATE the faith of your childhood, from the path along which I have endeavored to lead you. Pledge me that you will be true to uprightness and virtue. Pledge me that you will never hate, never seek revenge, and that you will leave vengeance to Him who justly avenges. " Here the dying woman stretched out her arms toward her kneeling son, and her sightless eyes seemed to be trying to penetrate the darkness, to once more scan her darling's features. "O, my son, promise me, prom- ise me that you will do my bidding. If you would comfort me on my dying bed, promise me this!" "I will obey you, mother. I will strive to, at the least," sobbed Maurits, deeply moved. "I swear to you that I will never disgrace your memory by a mean act." "And you promise to love your brothers, even those who persecute you? You promise to be kind and for- giving?" "I promise you, mother." "Heaven be thanked! I can now die in peace. I have given you the best legacy I could, my child. Love and faith are life's anchors. Without them, man, like a ship disabled in mid ocean, is driven helplessly to destruction." The sick woman ceased, exhausted. Maurits' eyes were fixed in silent pain upon the pale face. "There is a woman," muttered the pastor, wiping away a tear, "who understands how to suffer, how to love, how to die. Such a woman needs no comforter of the soul." "Maurits," whispered Mrs. Sterner with failing voice, "O, if I could but see your dear face once more before I die but all is dark. Ah, my prayer is heard! " she suddenly burst forth, by a great effort raising her- self in bed; "praise the Lord! Our Father in heaven THE DEATH-BED 31 1 has heard my prayer! I see you! I see you, my child!" Surprised, Maurits met his mother's glance which, now no longer obscured, glowed with a supernatural luster. "I see you!" continued Mrs. Sterner, throwing both her arms around her son's neck. "God has sent me my sight again for a minute in order that I may take a recollection of my darling's features with me to that distant land. Praise the Lord! I am now content. Farewell, my son, my son!" These were the last words uttered by the dying mother. Her arms let go their hold, her body sank back lifeless, touched by the deliverer's hand. "She saw!" muttered the pastor. "One of love's mir- acles!" Maurits heard and saw nothing more. Beside him- self in pain and misery he could only press the cold hand of his dead mother to his quivering lips. PART III CHAPTER I A POOR STUDENT We resume our narrative four years later. What happened, meantime, to the characters that have ap- peared in the preceding pages, will be related in its proper order. "Up to the present everything has gone along smoothly," said Maurits Sterner to himself, as he en-, tered his unpretentious quarters at Upsala and threw a bundle of books upon the table. "I have passed my examination in Greek, philosophy and history, and the professors in the last branch have accorded me the highest praise. Three subjects disposed of. Only ten remain. Ten subjects, bah! I can get through with them in a year, I hope." Maurits took down a tinder box and lighted a can- dle, for it was already dark. "It is cold," continued the youth in his monologue, "and I have no wood or wherewith to buy it. It is extremely hard for one to study without a fire, and still more so for one who must write as I. The ink freezes in the ink horn, and the ideas congeal in the brain. Never mind, to-morrow morning may bring a change in my destiny. To-morrow morning! Yes, my twentieth birthday will have then arrived, and these papers which I have carried faithfully next my heart for more than four years my dying mother's bequest will no longer withhold their secrets from me." 315 316 THE PLAY OF FATE Maurits brought forth the package that Mrs. Sterner had given him on her death-bed. The seal was still unbroken. He had kept the oath taken in his boyhood. "I confess myself exceedingly curious," he resumed, "but I must curb my desire yet a few hours. O, mother! My dear, never -forgotten mother, look down upon your son at this moment! Rejoice! For he has kept his promise. His heart is still pure. No base conduct, no extravagances have stained his character. He has been sober in his desires, earnest in his studies and in his searchings into the deep well of truth." Maurits seated himself and sank into deep reverie. He was no longer the same as when we last saw him, bowing under a burden of pain at the bedside of his dying mother. The fine white forehead shaded by an abundance of dark, wavy hair, the clear, expressive feat- ures, were still present, but their original freshness had disappeared. The roses on his cheeks had been driven away by night vigils and cares, and an expression of firmness around the mouth showed that he was no longer a child, hardly a youth, but a man, rapidly matured by life's severe struggles one who, though just counting his twentieth year, had felt, experienced and thought more than many of forty. Maurits Sterner was not visionary. He had suffered too greatly for that. His bent was serious, mere in- clined to the inner life. Early initiated into the newer philosophy, he had there found a rich field tor the am- bitious investigator. Strong feelings slumbered in the depth of his heart, however, and smoldering passions, not yet fanned into flame. But by great will power he had succeeded in holding them within the limits staked out by his early wisdom. As faithfully as the oyster hides the pearl, Maurits, A POOR STUDENT 317 since his mother's death, had treasured her memory. She was still alive and ever present to his senses. Her pure, angelic features were never absent from his inner vision. She was his conscience, his guardian angel in the presence of temptation, his comforter during sorrows. The scene at her death-bed had turned him from the path into which his young mind threatened to lead him. He no longer doubted the existence of a Providence, for to doubt this would be to doubt her existence, to doubt a reunion after death, and that he would not, could not. The fatalistic seed, early sown in his mind by Jacob Kron's dismal phi- losophy of life, and that later had nearly taken fast root because of the bitter sufferings of his youth, had been destroyed in their incipiency by the parting words of his mother. The young man had returned to the faith of his childhood as he promised her. He had submissively sought the Eternal, and had found him He was saved; but, ah, not all the children thus thrown upon the world have a mother's memory for an anchor. The four years just passed had been to Maurits, from an economic point of view, more tranquil and free from sorrows than the preceding. Through the efforts of Pastor Bergholm, he had early obtained a situation as teacher in a private house into which he was received as one of the family, and treated with the utmost kindness by all of its members. Here he established himself firmly in the confidence of his employer, and when he judged himself prepared to enter the academy, he was permitted to take his two pupils with him, and so went through the first year at Upsala without trouble. Unfortunately, the father of his pupils died. A few months later, the widow, 318 THE PLAY OF FATE unable longer to maintain them at Upsala, of necessity took them home, and Maurits, who thus saw himself deprived of this support, was now compelled to draw upon the money left him by his mother, which, up to the present, had remained untouched in the care of Pastor Bergholm. By careful economy, Maurits had managed very well thus far, but his means were now exhausted and yet a whole year remained ere he could complete the much- desired academic course. He seldom or never joined in the daily frolics of his schoolmates. The pleasures so alluring to his more light-hearted and happy fellow students possessed nothing enticing to the serious delver into the depths of scientific discovery. His comrades, therefore, re- garded him as a visionary day dreamer, and after a few ineffectual efforts to induce him to change his manner of life for one of more cheer and gayety they left him to his fate without giving themselves further concern about him. Maurits read, thought and investigated with the same eagerness that had distinguished him from his early boyhood, and that caused the good pastor to more than once exclaim: "You will some day be an honor to your fatherland, my boy! " Through Pastor Bergholm, Maurits had received thorough instruction, not only in the classic, but even in the modern languages. This stood him well in hand at Upsala. He gave lessons in English and Italian to students who were much his senior in years, but who had not before had the opportunity to learn these lan- guages. These lessons were just now the young man's only source of income, since the little sum inherited from his mother had been consumed. A POOR STUDENT 319 Early accustomed to want, Maurits could easier en- dure the deprivations and sufferings that poverty im- posed upon him. He never complained, not even to his friend and teacher, Pastor Bergholm, with whom he was in frequent and continuous correspondence. He had inherited from his mother the power to endure and suffer in silence. Like her he declined everything that seemed at all to partake of the character of alms. If he had no wood, he shivered it out rather than ap- ply to anyone for help. And to keep himself free from obligations that he was not quite sure he could discharge, he often subsisted for da} - s on the most meager allowance of food. In a word, he had pre- pared to fight his way through by his own strength, with which he felt himself abundantly endowed. Although Maurits seldom took part in the life that was astir around him, he was by no means entirely without friends. He had found a few congenial souls, and the most intimate friendship soon existed among them They visited each other frequently and ex- changed thoughts, ideas, and shared in each others' dreams. For even Maurits sometimes dreamed, as now, resting his head upon his hands with the mys- terious package before him. Let us listen to his thoughts. "This room is cold, dark and unpleasant, but what does it matter? In a year or two it will be otherwise with me. My will and my genius shall make a way for me. The laurels of the kingdom shall be mine. All to gladden you in heaven, mother. If I freeze, if I hunger a few years, what of it? Hope shall give me courage to bear it all, hope of a future shaped by mystlf. 'Live and suffer,' so you used to say, mother, and one must suffer resolutely. And what, indeed, 320 THE PLAY OF FATE are these privations, to which I must now submit, compared with the sorrows and deprivations of my boyhood, when I threshed in the barn in order to get bread for my blind mother, who could no longer sup- port herself and me. Yes, the morning of my exist- ence was overcast with clouds. Its noonday, its even- ing shall be brighter." Here Maurits' meditations were interrupted. The door opened and a young, poorly clad, but remarkably beautiful girl entered the room. "What is it, my child?" said Maurits, regarding her attentively. "I came to make your bed, sir, " answered the young girl. "Mamma is ill and can't do it herself." "Ah, you are, then, the daughter of the good woman, my attendant?" The girl bowed assent. "What is your name?" "Helena." "And you say your mother is ill." "Yes, sir, she has the ague." "Poor child!" said Maurits. "It is with you as with me, probably. You have no wood." "Exactly. Have you, sir, none either?" "No, but in the morning I will endeavor to get some for both you and myself, for I think it is too bad that such a good body should surfer. Where do you live?" "In the last house in Svartsback Street, back in the yard. It will be very kind of you, sir, to help us." "I will visit you in the morning," said Maurits. "How old are you, my little girl?" "I'll be fourteen soon." "Were you born here in Upsala?" A POOR STUDENT 321 "No, we dwelt first, for some years, in Stockholm, but moved here when my ; mother could no longer get work there. " "And your father, does he live?" "I have never seen my father," answered the girl, "and my mother never speaks of him, though I some- times question her about him." "Neither has she ever mentioned to me that she had a daughter," said Maurits. "Have you been taught to read?" "Oh, yes," answered the girl briskly, 'I have read a great deal. When I was nine years old, I was adopted by an old gentleman who met me one day on the streets of Stockholm, as I went about singing, endeav- oring to earn a few skillings. He gave me beautiful clothes, and I was instructed in many things, but in music especially, because he believed me to possess extraordinary talent in this direction. It was his in- tention to educate me for the stage. He wished me to become an actress, he said, but fate willed it other- wise. About three years after my adoption, my bene- factor died; his relatives drove me away, and I was obliged to return to my poor mother quite as destitute as before. Later we moved to Upsala, and here I have been compelled to dwell in a wretched hovel, instead of the elegant and delightful rooms that I oc- cupied during my period of good fortune." The poor girl began to weep bitterly at the painful recollections. "Poor child!" thought Mauirts. "O, why am I not rich?" "You can sing then, my little Helena?" inquired he. "Yes, that is my only consolation in my poverty." 322 THE PLAY OF FATE "And you play also?" "Ah, I had a guitar when I was with my benefactor, and I played, it was said, not so badly; but I have none now," "What have you done with it?" "I had to sell it last winter to get bread for my mother and me." "See, here is one," said Maurits, getting his down from the wall, for even he was something of a musi- cian and singer. "Take it and sing for me." "What shall I sing?" asked Helena, blushing, as she took the instrument and with practiced hand struck a few chords. "O, something pretty," said Maurits, "your favorite, you must have a preference." "Then it shall be the 'Alpine Girl!'" exclaimed Helena, her eyes sparkling. "Have you heard it, Mr. Sterner? " "No, let me hear it." And the young girl sang: "Every morning an Alpine rose, I fast to my hat," etc. Maurits listened with delight to the exquisitely clear tones that flowed from the lips of the poor little song- stress. Seldom had an opportunity been given him to hear a more charming voice and he lamented that such promising talent should lack the advantages of cultivation. There were many verses in the song that Helena sang, wherefore a considerable time had elapsed before its conclusion. Brighter and brighter grew her eyes, clearer and more thrilling her beautiful notes. In the midst of this scene, the door to the little A POOR STUDENT 323 room was suddenly opened. Two persons entered, but halted at the threshold, dumb with astonishment. Neither Helena, transported with delight, nor Mau- rits, lost in the contemplation of the blushing, inno- cent child, heard or saw the entrance of the strangers. The song continued for some time without an inter- ruption. Finally, one of the visitors made an involuntary movement. Frightened, Helena ceased, while Maurits glanced hastily toward the door. "Do you give lessons in music, Brother Maurits?" exclaimed one of the new-comers, a tall, slender youth with an expressive countenance, and a noticeably dis- tinguished bearing. "By my soul., you have found a pretty little pupil." Helena blushed deeply. "She is the daughter of my waiting woman," an- swered Maurits smiling. "She sings like an angel. What do you think, Brother Holm?" "By no means bad," answered the person addressed. "But allow me to introduce a young countryman, just arrived to-day from Wermland, who is here to be ex- amined, and says he has a letter to you from one of your friends. Herr Sterner, Baron Ehrenstani, " said he, presenting the young men to each other. Maurits started as if stung by a serpent. "Ehrenstam!" muttered he to himself, as his search- ing eyes fell upon the young baron who, after glancing haughtily around the scantily furnished room, re- sponded with a formal bow. "Ehrenstam! Ah, that name! " Recovering himself quickly, he addressed the new comer coldly: 324 THE PLAY OF FATE "Herr Baron comes from Wermland?" "Yes," answered George, now a tall seventeen-year- old scapegrace of careless bearing and attired in the height of fashion. "I come from my father's estate, Liljedahl, near the home of your childhood. I have undertaken to deliver a letter to you from your friend and neighbor, the curate of the parish. I believe his name is Bergholm, or something like it." George took the letter from his pocket and handed it to Maurits. "Thank you," said Maurits, taking it. "Please be seated, Herr Baron." George seated himself on the sofa and foppishly ogled poor Helena who vainly sought to conceal her blushes and her embarrassment. "Great Scott! it is cold here, Brother Sterner!" ex- claimed the shivering Holm. "Will you not have a fire built?" "Certainly," answered Maurits, blushing slightly; "but the fact is, it was too late when I arrived here this evening to buy wood in the market. It was al- ready closed. But I will be more timely hereafter." "A bewitchingly pretty girl that," muttered George to himself. "In a few years she will be a beauty of the first rank if I am not in error." Helena left the room for an instant to get some water for the carafe. "You have a pretty attendant, Herr Sterner," said George carelessly; "what is her name?" "Herr Baron," said Maurits with gentle irony, "you who are so rich, if I am correctly informed, that you could buy half of Upsala, here is an opportunity for j'ou to become a patron of the arts. Poor little Helena sings well, and is much inclined toward the stage, A POOR STUDENT 325 she informs me, but, lacking means, her development has been interrupted. If you will undertake this, she will some day in the future do you honor without doubt. There ma)' be slumbering within her the germs of the most brilliant talents. You could probably make of her an actress of the first rank, renowned over all Europe, and you would share her honors." " C^est' possible?" said George listlessly. "I am of a mind to make the effort. Her address?" Maurits gave it, astonished that such a thought should impress a youth who as a child had manifested such cruelty toward him; for Maurits, through Pastor Bergholm, had learned the name of the family with which accident, during his childhood, had three times brought him into contact, and by the members of which each of these times he was so badly treated. He did not suspect hew deeply corruption had 'already taken root in George's heart; in part, the outcropping of his naturally bad disposition, in part, and chiefly, because of the unrestrained license permitted by his parents and the lustful, dissipated creatures with whom he had been wont to associate since his fifteenth year. He did not know that this seventeen-year old stripling was already fully initiated into all .the vices of the rich without possessing any of their virtues. He did not know that George had already passed two winters in the capital, where he had thrown himself unbridled into dissipations of all kinds, and that, although only fairly in his teens, he could cry out with Henri de Vaudry, "Except murder, theft and treason, there is no crime I have not committed." It is not to be wondered at then, that Maurits was deceived in George's apparent interest in Helena. How should he, upright and of spotless character 326 THE PLAY OF FATE himself, suspect that in the breast of the titled youth such thoughts as these existed: "The outlay of a few hundred dollars on this little girl will be a good investment. In a few years I shall receive ample return." It did not occur to him that such thoughts could possibly have birth in the brain of a youth just completing his seventeenth year. On the other hand, neither could he account for the sud- den interest manifested by George in the welfare of the young girl, remembering the exhibitions of cruelty and heartlessness displayed by him in his boyhood He attached, therefore, little significance to George's utterances, and believed in reality that he would con- cern himself little whether the young girl lived, cr died of hunger. Meantime, George drew forth his memorandum book and wrote down the address. "Do you really mean that you will do something for the poor child?" "Yes, indeed. It is made apparent to me that she is endowed with special talents, and I am earnestly disposed to afford her an opportunity for their culti- vation." "I have misunderstood him," thought Maurits. "He is not so heartless and egotistical as I supposed. How unjust, at any rate, to judge one by a single incident that occurred many years ago." "Herr Baron, " said he aloud. "I will join you in your commendable undertaking. I will instruct her in read- ing and the other common branches, if you will attend to her musical education and her support. You rep- resent the capital, I will put in the work. Do you agree to this?" "Yes," said George, casting a distrustful glance at A POOR STUDENT 327 Maurits. "If the girl is to amount to anything, she must go to the royal theater in Stockholm, where I will arrange that she shall be received as a pupil. Her wardrobe I will see to, so that she may make a becoming appearance." "But she ought first to have some preparatory in- struction," interrupted Maurits. "This she has already received." "Yes, but not sufficient. " "Very true, you may be right," replied George. "She may then remain in Upsala yet a few months and, if you will instruct her in reading, I will see to the rest. But this done, you must leave her wholly to me." "It shall be so," cried Maurits, "and if I am not greatly deceived, our protdge" -will some day do us honor. " Helena at this point entered with the water. "Hear me, my girl," said George. "Come here, I wish to speak with you." The timid girl approached him with downcast eyes. "Do you wish to become an actress?" "Ah," cried the girl eagerly, "it has always been my ambition since my benefactor took me into his family and procured teachers for me. If he had not died, I should have been prepared for the stage already, per- haps. But it is past now." "No, no," said George. "If you convince me tnat you possess talent, it is not yet too late. I "will take care of your mother, and provide a more comfortable place of residence. You shall have beautiful clothes, the best of food, and instruction in reading and music. In a few months you shall come to Stockholm, where I will procure a place for you in the theater. What do you say to it?" 328 THE PLAY OF FATE "You must be jesting, sir," said she finally. "It is very unkind of you." The poor girl began to weep. "Helena," said Maurits, "do not cry. The baron is not jesting, he is in earnest." "Go home to your mother, my child," resumed George. "In the morning I will come to you." Helena went, hardly knowing whether she was awake or asleep. CHAPTER II THE FRIENDS "I must go, Herr Sterner," said George, rising to depart. "In the morning, we will discuss the affairs of our charge in detail, if you will honor me with your presence. I reside in Vaksala Street, sign of the Bull, second floor." "Thank you, I will come." "And when you write to your priest down there in Wermland remember me to the funny old man, really an old classic. " 'How are his daughters?" asked Maurits. "Well; and it is reported that my former tutor, Mag ister Holmer, who has now taken to farming, is a lit- tle smitten with the oldest. It looks as if there would be a wedding there." "Magister Holmer!" exclaimed Maurits, and the scene in the baronial chamber and the East India tea- cups were brought vividly to his mind. "Has he bought a farm?" "Not bought, but received it from my father for his many years of attendance as tutor upon me and my sister Isabella, who, notwithstanding she is baiely fifteen years old, visits him daily for the purpose of studying the poets of France and Italy. But are you acquainted with Holmer?" "Only slightly," said Maurits, with a little embar- rassment. "I have seen him once, I believe." "You had already left when my parents moved to 329 33O THE PLAY OF FATE Liljedahl, I presume," said George. "I do not recol- lect that I ever saw or heard of you as a child. " "My mother died about that time," answered Mau- rits, "and, too, my station was so humble that it was not likely I should attract your attention. We were very poor, and if it had not been for Pastor Bergholm, I should most certainly have had to forego the advan- tages of an education. A wotd yet before you go, baron. Are you acquainted with Count Stjernekrantz, of Odensvik?" "Quite well; we are near neighbors. Now I call to mind an observation made at my first seeing you. There is a striking resemblance between you and Count Stjernekrantz. " "Indeed! You are joking." "No, you are as like him as one berry is like an- other, except that he is more sickly looking. He is a pretty high liver, it is said. But why are you inter- ested in him? Is it because of your likeness to him?" "No," said Maurits, "it is wholly of another sort. Is he at present residing at Odensvik?" "No, he is usually in Stockholm during the winter, when he lives like a prince; but, in the summer, he locks himself up at Odensvik, and may hold himself for months wholly aloof from intercourse with the world, except an old servant. He is a very strange being, whom no one can understand. He is most assuredly oppressed by some great sorrow, and has endured great suffering." "Do you think so? He is so rich." "Bah! that counts for nothing. It is related of Count Eberhard that a few years ago he was in love, almost to distraction, with a beautiful singer whom he brought with him from Milan. She was only a THE FRIENDS 33! cunning adventuress who deceived him and ran away, leaving no trace of the course taken, and who has not since been heard of, notwithstanding the count, for nearly a year, wandered over Europe in fruitless search for her. He has been very melancholy since then, and to conceal his distress, rushes into the wildest pleasures and dissipations every winter. His enormous wealth must have been lessened considera- bly in this manner, but the count pa)'s no attention to this. He leaves his affairs entirely in the hands of his steward." "Herr Sjoholm," interrupted Maurits. "Exactly," said George. "You are acquainted with him, I discover. He is one of our lions; an exceed- ingly interesting and poetic being, on whose table one always finds some of our newest poets, besides samples of brandy, and the cottagers' time-book. The count relies implicitly upon his steward; but it is generally believed Herr Sjoholm is feathering his own nest hand- somely. " "That is quite customar)' among stewards," added Holm, who had thus far been a listener only. "When you come into possession of ) r our estate, Brother Ehrenstam, you must prepare yourself for the same fate." "Count Stjernekrantz has no thought of marrying, it would seem,' 1 said Maurits. "No, A he seems to abhor the idea of such a thing," said George. "My father proposed to him some time ago that he should wed my sister." "Isab Miss Isabella?" interrupted Maurits, eagerly, playing with the little amber heart that hung from his neck. "Yes," said George surprised. "Have you ever seen my sister?" 332 THE PLAY OF FATE "No," answered Maurits, with apparent confusion, "but I heard you just now mention her name, and the marriage. " "I doubt very much that anything will ever come of it, at least, not for a number of years. My sister is yet too young, and although she promises to be a re- markable beauty, Count Eberhard has not, so far as can be seen, been particularly attracted by her. To tell the truth, also, she has given little evidence, when the count has visited us, of being very much charmed with the prospect of becoming his bride, for she seems to feel an aversion for him." "It would indeed be a sin to wed her to a man whom she could not love." "Bah! A rich heiress, such as my sister, is seldom allowed to follow her own inclination of heart. It is customary for the parents to effect an advantageous union without consulting the daughter, and such con- tracts, I am inclined to think, are the happiest." Maurits' lips were slightly compressed when he heard the young baron, just let loose from the nursery, express his opinion upon such a matter. He restrained the sarcasm, however, that struggled on his lips for expression, for, because of their common interest in the young Helena, he was anxious that there should be no clash between himself and George. The latter now said farewell and departed, but Holm remained some time longer with Maurits. Holm, a remarkably clever, but poor young man, studied medicine, and was one of the two with whom Maurits, during his college life, had formed an indis- soluble bond of friendship. "Maurits," said Holm, when George was well out of the way, "it is exceedingly cold here. You must THE FRIENDS 333 send over to my room after a few sticks of wood and build a fire. It is not far, just across the street." "That is easily said, but whom shall I send?" "If you have no one to send, we will go ourselves. We can carry a few sticks under our capes. It is so dark here, too, that one can hardly see." "A good project," said Maurits, "but you must re- main with me to-night, and share the comfort." "Gladly. But, hush, there are footsteps on the stairs." "It is Albert Broman, I think," said Maurits. "He promised to visit me this evening." The door opened, and a young man entered. His face expressed great good humor and contentment of mind. Life and wit played in his small, blue-gray eyes, and on his lips rested a good natured smile that inspired confidence and trust. His figure was square built, and under medium height, so that he was lack- ing both in the elegant build and stately bearing of his companions, yet he was neither too short nor too corpulent. Such was Albert Broman, the third of the friends, and the most light-hearted of all. He, whose even temper never forsook him, understood how to dispel every cloud as it appeared on the foreheads of his two comrades, more disposed to melancholy than he. "Good evening, boys!" he cried. "Were you about to go out?" "Yes, for a few minutes," answered Holm. "Maurits has no wood, so we are going over to my room to get some. Come and help us." "To be sure. Promenade all!" said Albert. "I have found you in this fix before. Why don't you buy wood, you old philosopher? Have you no money? 334 THE P LAY OF FATE You will borrow some, perhaps. Your treasury is low, I fear. " Albert clapped his hand over that part of his attire where men usually carry their pocket-books "How much money have you?" said Maurits, laugh- ing. "Four riks-dollars and thirty -six skillings. Say the word, and half of it is yours, brother." "No, thank you; I say as Alexander said: 'There is too little to divide.' " "All right, as you will. We will go after the wood now. It is as cold as a cellar here." The friends hastened across the street to Holm's quarters and soon returned, each with several sticks of wood under his cape. A cheerful fire was quickly ablaze in Maurits' little fireplace, and the three threw themselves down before it for a chat. "Well, Maurits," said Holm, "what did you think of Ehrenstam?" "Oh, this is not the first time I have seen him." "Indeed! Where did you make his acquaintance? You seemed to be entire strangers to each other." "This meeting," said Maurits, "awakens a whole host of childhood memories." "Bitter or pleasant?" inquired Albert. "Bitter," answered Maurits. "Bury them, for the Lord's sake!" cried Albert. "My theory is that one should never think of distress- ing things if they are already of the past. It is to. suffer over again, and that is wholly unnecessary." "Oh, no," said Maurits with a sad smile, "the cir- cumstances here in question can no longer cause me suffering." "You have promised man}' times to relate to us the THE FRIENDS 335 story of your chlidhood, Maurits," said Holm. "It must have been more than ordinarily full of trouble. You appear to have nothing but sad recollections of it." "Ah, yes," said Maurits, "it was bitter-sweet." "Bitter sweet!" interrupted Albert, "what nonsense! How can one have bitter sweet recollections?" "Such, for instance, is the remembrance of my mother," said Maurits, "and still another is in connec- tion with this little trinket which I have worn around my neck for a number of years." Maurits brought forth, and showed to his two friends, the little amber heart which had come into his possession in such a remarkable manner. "How so?" asked Holm. "That trinket? To whom did it belong?" "While a boy, I rescued, one day, a little girl from drowning. During the struggle in the water, this heart, which she then wore around her neck, became fastened to my clothes. Since then I have preserved it." "You must relate this story to us in fuller detail," said Albert. "What was the girl's name?" "Isabella Ehrenstam," said Maurits. "What do you say! " exclaimed Holm, in astonish- ment. "The young baron's sister?" "Yes." "And he knows nothing of it?" "He was a child then, and has probably forgotten the incident. And, moreover, I know with certainty that he never so much as heard my name." 'Here are certainly the initials, I. E.," said Albert, who had, meantime, been inspecting the trinket; "are they to signify Isabella Ehrenstam?" 336 THE PLAY OF FATE "No," said Maurits. "Connected with this amber heart is a long, sad, and very strange story. I will rela.te it to you. It has played an active part in my childhood." "Let us hear it! " cried the two friends with increas- ing curiosity. "But it is to go no further." "Certainly not." Maurits now narrated the incidents with which the reader is already familiar. He acquainted them with his meeting with Jacob Kron, the outcast son, and the conversation at the murdered man's grave in the for- est. Everything was vividly clear in his mind. Scarce- ly a word uttered by Jacob had been lost. This finished, he went into his own childhood. The incidents in connection with the East India tea-cups at Liljedahl; Isabella's rescue; her parents' ingrati- tude, and, at last, his mother's distressing death, all of which made a chain of circumstances that was of the keenest interest to his two auditors. "How strange!" said Holm when Maurits had fin- ished. "One is almost tempted to cry out with Jacob Kron, 'There is no Providence but there is a fate!' 1 "Yes," said Albert, "it is a play of fate that runs through both your history and Jacob's. Have you heard nothing of him since?" "No, not since my mother's death. He had deter- mined to be fearfully revenged upon his unnatural father and his famil) 7 . Poor Jacob! Perhaps the arm of justice has stayed his vengeance." "Your Jacob Kron, notwithstanding his wretched- ness, is an interesting personage," added Holm. "He is a living arraignment of the barbaric and heartless egoism of the present age." THE FRIENDS 337 "And of a social structure rotten to its base," in- terposed Albert. "It must be demolished and wholly rebuilt, for, if we do not find a cure for the present social ills, a new and a more dangerous revolution than we have ever had will overturn now existing evils." "Then, in the morning, you are to break the seal of your father's will?" asked Holm, for Maurits had also mentioned the secret thereof. "Yes," he answered, "in the morning I shall be twenty years old." "Great guns! How curious you must be!" exclaimed Albert. "How, in the name of the saints, could you restrain yourself so long?" "It has, indeed, been difficult at times," Maurits acknowledged. "But the promise given to my dying mother has been held sacred!" "Who knows," resumed Albert in a jesting tone, "what these papers may contain? Perhaps, when all is revealed, you are as rich as a Crresus. You will, in that event, pay all my liabilities, of coarse Or, maybe, you are even a prince, possibly the crown prince. Ah, your highness," continued he, rising and making a serio comic bow, "if so be, have a thought for your most obedient servant with some lucrative em- ployment. A sinecure, if possible, a postoffice, for instance, or prime minister. And if your high might- iness should require a strong arm to establish your rights, count upon my powerful assistance. I'll face death, if there is anything to gain by it." "We depend upon you," said Maurits with great dignity. "And we give you our princely word that, upon our ascending the throne, you shall be either our prime minister, or our court jester, whichever you please. " 338 THE PLAY OF FATE "O, be assured of my most humble gratitude." "Hold, enough of this, nonsense!" interrupted Holm, laughing. "The fire has gone out, and it is only half- past seven. It is yet too early to retire; what shall we do?" "If you were not such esthetes," said Albert, "I would invite you to go with me to some cellar and help me eat a beefsteak. But such stuff is too com- mon, I fear." "The invitation is accepted," said Holm. "What do you say, Mauri ts?" "My stomach is not averse, but the emptiness of my purse is an obstacle." "That is nothing, brother, I'll pay the score. When you have taken possession of your inheritance, you shall, in return, invite us to champagne," said Albert. "Agreed," said Maurits. "One can afford to be a little lavish after passing through such heavy trials as I have to-day." "True as gospel!" cried Albert. "You were exam- ined to day. How did it go?" "Oh, tolerably well." "I appreciate your modesty, brother. It honors you quite as much as your knowledge. You will, without doubt, receive the highest honors. " "O, I do not hope for so much. The professor was exceedingly displeased because I had not read the works of his colleagues." "Colleagues!" cried Albert angrily. "Such abomina- ble trash! As if one's salvation depended upon trans- lating and learning by heart all the nonsense that the wise fathers prate about in the cathedrals. It makes me sick to, -think of it; let us go." The three young men left the room and went, arm THE FRIENDS 339 in arm, to one of Upsala's cellars to partake of the proposed refreshments. CHAPTER III THE BEQUEST It was earl)' in the morning of the day following the incidents of the preceding chapter. The sun had not yet risen, but Maurits was already up and at his work-table, where before him lay the package contain- ing his deceased father's bequest. The seal was yet unbroken. An indescribable feel- ing restrained the young man every time he stretched forth his hand to lift the package. He was standing at the opening of a new epoch in his life, perhaps. It might be thai these papers contained information that would wholly annihilate his present prospects, habits, and plan of life. His hand trembled percepti- bly, when at last he grasped the papers and slowly broke the seal. The first that met his eye read as follows: "March 2oth, 18 . The undersigned, having ob- served all the formalities of law, doth hereby join in the holy bonds of wedlock, the right honorable Count Claes Henrik Stjernekrantz of Odensvik, in Werm- land, and Miss Augusta Fredrika, daughter of the gar- dener, Johan Johanson, in the parish of G and bishopric of W . "In witness whereof, witness my hand and seal. "At the vicarage of G , March 23, 18 "GUSTAF HULTBERG, i; Dean and Pastor." 340 THE BEQUEST 34! Maurits' cheeks were alternately pale and flushed, while reading this marriage certificate. "Stjernekrantz of Odensvik!" muttered he. "There is now no doubt about it; I am brother to the man who murdered my mother, his own step-mother; brother to him in whose barn I have threshed for a pittance, and upon whose possessions I dwelt in a miserable hut during my childhood. O fate! O fate! Another of your freaks! But let us read on. " The next paper that fell into Maurits' hand was the certificate of his own baptism, signed by the same priest, and witnessed by two peasants of a parish in one of Sweden's southern districts, the birthplace of his mother. "I can legitimize myself then at my pleasure as Count Stjernekrantz," said Maurits to himself. "I be- long, then, by birth to the aristocracy, against whom, in my boyhood, I swore an implacable hate. My God, how strange!" There remained yet one paper unread It was a long, folded letter. The contents of this were as fol- lows: "Maurits, my son: If these papers sometime come into your possession, they are your father's greeting from the land of the dead; for, if I live until the time arrives when you are to know what is herein contained, they will be unnecessary, because you shall then hear from my own lips what I lay before you thus in writ- ing. But as the days of man are short and uncertain, I will leave in the keeping of your mother these eluci- dations and explanations of my relation to you, con- cerning which I deem it my duty to inform you. "Let me preface my narrative with a short account of the incidents just preceding your birth. 342 THE PLAY OF FATE "I had been married once already before seeing your mother. My first wife was dead, and had left me an only child, a son, who had caused me much sorrow. Reared in abundance and wantonness; spoiled by a loving, but weak, mother's indulgence, and, finally, led astray by companionship with a false and godless friend who amused himself with poisoning the youth's soul, he was soon on the verge of a gulf from which my hand vainly sought to redeem him. My warnings were met by opposition; my commands by disobe- dience and scorn. To him pleasure was everything. To gain control of my property was the acme of his desires, in order that he might throw himself into the sea of pleasure spread out before him and purchasable with money. "I have necessarily entered into this account of my first-born in order that you may better understand why I so chose your manner of bringing up. "Soon after the death of my first wife, I set out on foot and alone upon a journey through the southern districts of Sweden. It pleased me to mingle with the people, concealing my rank and wealth, and, some- times, clad in the plainest manner, to take part in the innocent pleasures in which the simple children of the neighborhood in summer-green meadows, on a holiday evening, amused themselves after their tiresome labors. No one suspected my wealth and station. No one knew that a rich and respected nobleman was dis- guised in the coarse garb in which I sat and smoked my clay pipe among the old men, or took part in the dance around the May-pole with the happy, innocent youths. I traveled wholly incognito and was regarded by some as a wandering artist, by others as a good- natured mechanic who went about the district seeking THE BEQUEST . 343 employment. I allowed them to think what they would. Tired of the city's oppressiveness, and the glitter of its salons, the refreshing country life pleased me. "During this journey, I arrived, one glorious even- ing in the middle of June, at the parish of G , one of the most beautiful and charming regions to be found in Sweden. The priest of the parish had been my college mate. We had been very good friends when fellow students at Upsala, and, although I had not seen him for many years, I hoped to find in him the same trusty affection and friendship as before. I therefore made my way at once to the parsonage. My friend, who was still unmarried, received me with hearty demonstrations of gladness. I confided to him my desire to remain unknown, and acquainted him with the pleasure I found in wandering among the people and in their society, gathering, by this means, an insight. into their customs, manners and domestic life. "'I will respect your incognito,' said my friend smiling, 'but you must remain with me some days. We will make short excursions together over the surrounding country, and finally you shall witness the midsummer dance in the village. You can certainly find no objection to my suggestions. "The project seemed a good one, and I promised to remain until after the midsummer dance, at least. "In gala attire, the boys and girls assembled on the green meadow. My friend and I mingled with the happy throng, and even took part in the dance around the May-pole. "Maurits, here I saw your mother for the first time. Her beauty, gentleness, her sweet innocence, made 344 THE PLAY the deepest impression upon my heart. She was the daughter of a former gardener with whom she dwelt in a little cottage a short distance from the village. She was barely sixteen years old, beautiful as the goddess of spring and as genial and blooming as she. I vis- ited her. I found in her an abundant wealth of tal- ent, though it had not yet been developed. I soon loved her passionately, and she, on her part, regarded me with favor. I determined to make her my wife, and to marry her in secret, for my numerous aristo- cratic relatives would not, I knew, recognize her, and would make both her and me the objects of their con- tempt. I confided my plan to my friend, the pastor. At first, he sought to dissuade me, but, seeing that I immovable, he at last promised me his aid. Before making Augusta my wife, I desired that she should recieve such culture as would enhance the value of her possession, and fit her for the new life into which she was about to enter. My friend promised to undertake her education and, in truth, no better teacher could have been found. For a year and a half she was a dweller under his roof, enjoying the advantages of his instruction, as also those of an elderly lady whom the pastor had taken into his house on her account, and, with an aptness and perseverance almost without equal, she had soon learned all that young women at her age usually know. I saw her again. The sixteen-year- old bud had matured into a splendid flower, a being of queenly beauty and bearing. Enchanted, I clasped her to my breast, and swore to devote the rest of my life to her. "With the greatest secrecy, the pastor married us at the parsonage. Only Augusta's father and two trust- worthy peasants of the community witnessed the cer- THE BEQUEST 345 emony. The bans had been published in a distant country church where none knew my name, and where the community was made up wholly of peasants, not at all likely to be inquisitive. "Thus it was possible for us to keep our secret. None of my proud family knew that their kinsman had married a simple peasant girl, and we agreed that no one of them should ever know it. "During the first year of our marriage, Augusta re- mained a resident of her native parish. Her home, a beautiful country-seat which I leased, la}' quite near the parsonage. And here, while my acquaintances be- lieved me to be traveling for pleasure's sake, I dwelt with her whole months. "You were born ten months after our union. My joy was beyond measure, and beside your cradle I took a solemn oath to allow you to grow up in these frugal surroundings and wonted to work, in order that you should not bring upon me the same sorrow as had my first-born, spoiled by luxury. "Augusta's father, who resided with his daughter, died about this time. The last tie that bound her to the home of her childhood was now severed, and, with- out regret, she consented to go with me to Wermland where she would be near my possessions. "About two miles from Odensvik was a pretty little villa which I rented, and there established my wife and son, separated from the world and free from other visits than mine. Many precious memories linger around that little home. Many sweet hours have I spent there in the companionship of my lovely bride. "Augusta loved me with all possible fervor. Her pure heart knew no higher pleasure than acquiescence in my slightest wish, and, if she could have read in 346 THE PLAY OF FATE my eyes what I desired, she would have been ready to make any sacrifice in its fulfillment. "It never occurred to her, apparentl)', to claim her rights as a countess. If she had done so, I should have yielded, perhaps, however unwillingly. She ap- peared to be content and happy in the simplicity of her surroundings "Your bringing up was a matter of no little concern to us. I was anxious that you should learn nothing regarding your birth before you had arrived at an age of sufficient understanding to decide your future for yourself. I exacted, therefore, a solemn promise from your mother that she would not allow you to know before your twentieth year who your father was. By this means, I hoped to prevent the pride of birth from taking root in your soul. It was my wish that you should grow up, not in poverty, yet in circum- stances that would teach you the necessity of self-ex- ertion and urge you to carve out your own future. Have I done right in this, my son? "As you read this, you are standing at the cross- road, and I am no longer in existence. What, I would know, has been your fortune to the present time, my son? Have you pursued a path of virtue? Do you see your way clear to a competency and honor? Do not swerve, then, from the course you have laid out. "You can, however, now choose whichever you will riches and idleness, or industry and contentment. You can choose which you will, I say, for to leave you without an inheritance, that were an injustice. Know then, Maurits, you can, at your pleasure, legitimize yourself as my son, born in lawful wedlock, and de- mand a portion of the estate left by me. The greater THE BEQUEST 347 part of it falls, of course, to your half brother, by en- tailment, but, aside from that, I leave a considerable fortune in which you have a right to share with him if you are so disposed. But if, on the other hand, you feel that riches would corrupt you, that your desire for healthful occupation would be diminished, your industry thus far go for naught rather consign to the fire at once these papers, which in, such an event would bring to you only misfortune and despair. Misfortune and despair? Yes. For when, by the aid of riches, you have been satiated with the boisterous pleasures of youth when, enticed by sirens, you have plucked freely of the flowers growing on the shores of their dwelling- place, and have found those shores white with the bones of their victims-- then, my son, will come this life's inadequacy, its satiety, its infirmities. And that con- dition-- unworthy creatures, in whose hearts heaven has planted the seed for a rich harvest that condi- tion, degraded to the animal, how often has it termi- nated in despair, insanity and suicide. "Maurits, I assume that at this instant while you read this if ever you are permitted to read it you stand alone in the world, that your mother has already joined me on the other side of the grave. I assume, even, that you are still pure and undefiled; that with skill and courage you have entered upon an honorable career, and that, without faltering, you have hitherto braved life's troubles and crosses. In short, that you are as I have prayed to God for many years my son might be. And if so, my son, think well ere you choose. Remember that work is the one source of pleasure and honor, and that it is only struggles, and struggles honorably maintained, that mold and develop the man. It is not my desire that you live in want. No, 348 THE PLAY OF FATE before I die, I will make provision in your favor to facilitate your efforts. Whichever you choose, you shall not be left entirely dependent upon your own resources. Neither will I that you should live in lux- ury. You have heard the utterances of my soul, the choice now lies with you. "I am on the eve of departing upon a journey abroad. My elder son accompanies me, for I will leave him as little as possible out of my sight, to fol- low his own bent. If I return from this journey I will myself watch over you, my son, as I have hitherto done. If, however, I do not return, before I die, I will, as I have already declared, make a will in your behalf, and therein set apart for you a sum sufficient to aid you in your hour of need. "And now farewell, my beloved. May )^ou be a happy man, even though you are not made rich. I have now revealed the reasons for my seeming injustice toward you. I dare hope that you will acknowledge their validity and cherish my memory. I leave you in your mother's care. Love her, Maurits, and if our separation is made permanent, be her support, her com- fort. "Yet once more, farewell. That you may be saga- cious, industrious and fortunate is the most fervent wish cherished by Your affectionate father, "CLAES HENRIK STJERNEKRANTZ. " CHAPTER IV THE ALTERNATIVE The hours sped rapidly by; it had become full day and still Maurits sat bowed upon his writing table, sunk in deep thought. "Claes Henrik Stjernekrantz!" heat last broke forth in a loud voice, casting a glance at the handwriting on the envelope; "he was then my father. Little won- der that I resemble Count Eberhard, he is my brother." Maurits rose, and paced back and forth across the floor. "I remember," muttered he to himself, "that my mother, one time during my childhood, spoke to me of my departed father. It was the evening of my meeting with Jacob Kron in the woods, where, at his instigation, I took Hannibal's oath against the -rich. I related this to my mother. She became alarmed and intimated to me that such an oath might compel me to hate my own blood, for even I was the son of a rich man. But she did not confide to me that some- time in the future I might lay claim to a portion of his wealth. Why did she not tell me this? Perhaps she did not know it. It may be she believed the es- tate of my father to be entailed and, according to law, to belong wholly and absolutely to the eldest son. Pos. sibly she feared to wake the slumbering passions she felt to be in existence within me. But I know at last, 849 35O THE PLAV OF FATE and the choice is now open to me. How shall I act? I have declared it the object of my life to carve my own way. I have looked upon this as the most honor- able course, the most independent. And now come riches with their allurements bidding me to luxury and pleasure instead of industry and self-reliance. I am then a count. Ha, ha! how jolly! I possess the right to bear one of those high-sounding names at whose mention I have so often sneered, and that I have so deeply hated. Mauri ts Stjernekrantz, not so bad- sounding after all. Ha! it is the name borne by my mother's murderer! Shall I also bear it? Shall I share this inheritance with him him, who with a few vile pieces of metal atoned for his crime! When her blood was moistening the earth, and the blind victim was resting on my lap, her murderer rode on indiffer- ently, not so much as checking his horse to ask after her condition. Must I bear the same name as he! O, mother! your blessed spirit would then no longer hover over your darling, you would turn from me in grief. Moreover, am I fitted for wealth? That is the question my father propounded to me, and bade me weigh well. Can I stand the change from penury to sudden luxury without being ruined by the temptations it will put in my way? Ye passions that slumber in my breast, would ye not take rein and break loose, set in motion by that mighty power? I do not know, but I fear it. I do not blame you, father. I reverence your memory, for I understand your purpose. You have selected for me the most beautiful inheritance; an in- heritance better than title or riches. It was not your fault that your premature taking away prevented you from keeping my mother from want. Your character must have been noble, exalted, grand, my father. THE ALTERNATIVE 351 And your first-born, what is he? What has made him what he is? 'Over abundance, ' I hear you say, and I believe it. And you, my noble and abandoned mother! Now, for the first time, I have learned to appreciate you fully. I have loved you in life, I have cherished your memory in death, you are now an object of won- der to me. Through long years you dwelt in a mis- erable cottage on the estate of your step-son, when at any time you might have come forward and made good your title to better things. You had in your possession the documents that would have established your mar- riage, and you died, poor and forsaken, without having made use of them. And why? Because of a promise by which you were bound for all time to keep the se- cret; because you loved me, and believed it better for my future welfare that I should grow up in poverty, rather than in luxury. At once proud and submissive, you yielded to your burden without sinking under its weight. Your life, forgotten or unknown by the bus- tling, noisy multitude, oh, how much more worthy to be sung than that of many whose names are carved on imperishable marble! Father, mother! Your son shall be worthy of you! Awa)', ye seductive allure- ments! I scorn riches! I will not lift my hand to receive them! " Maurits caught up his mother's marriage certificate that still remained on the table, and thrust it into the fire. Already the paper had begun to burn. An in- stant more, and the instrument that could make good his rights would have gone up in smoke, but, recollect- ing himself, he drew his hand back. "Why should I do this?" he muttered softly. "It may be of some use to me in the future, who knows? I will preserve these papers until later." 352 THE PLAY OF FATE Slowly he returned them to the envelope, after which he threw the package into the drawer of his bureau. "There," continued he, "away with you, you cor- rupter! You shall tempt me no longer! The world would call me a fool if it knew what I am renounc- ing, for it recognizes no higher reward for the strug- gles of life than gold. But the world may say what it will, I am doing right in shunning that which would, perhaps, work my destruction." At this point the young student's monologue was interrupted by heavy footsteps on the stairs, announc- ing a morning caller. It was the landlord, Councilman Bogren, who en- tered. Councilman Bogren was what is called in the lan- guage of Upsala, a "bracka." That is, one whose aim in life seems to be the fleecing of poor students, to which end every available means is seized upon. There are to be found in Upsala many "brackas, " but Councilman Bogren was one of the most unscru- pulous. Together with lending money at a generous profit, he even rented furniture to the students at outrageous prices which they were compelled to pay, it being impossible for them to do better. He was a man much below the average height, with a friendly and fawning expression of countenance and a very rotund figure. "Good morning, young gentleman," said the council- man. "Pardon me for disturbing you at such an early hour." "No harm done. Please be seated, Mr. Bogren." "Thanks. Had a little errand. You understand, of Course, the nature thereof?" THE ALTERNATIVE 353 "You have not received your rent for the last term, I am well aware," said Maurits, "but you must be pa- tient yet a few weeks." "Can't wait any longer," interrupted the council- man. "Thought you were one of the punctual kind, otherwise I would not have given you entrance to my house. " The worthy councilman usually omitted the pronoun when speaking of himself. He seemed particularly disposed to shun the pronoun I, but this was the only act that did not bespeak the egotist. "I most assuredly mean to be punctual," said Mau- rits, "but one as poor as I cannot at all times do just as he would. As I have said, you must wait." "Must, say you!" cried Bogren. "If that is your answer, I must address myself to the faculty. Every man must have his own." "Go to whom you will!" Maurits retorted angrily, "but be good enough to leave me now in peace," at the same time motioning toward the door. "You are very independent," cried the little coun- cilman, blue with rage. "You are very rude, and yet you can't pay your rent. You dare to show me out of the room for which you have not paid." "But for which I will pay," said Maurits coldly. "Be good enough to leave me, Mr. Bogren." "No, I'll not go until I have received my due." "What is the matter?" said Holm, who at this in- stant entered the room. "What does that fellow want?" "Oh, his rent," answered Maurits angrily, "and threatens to report me to the faculty. As you know, I am just now absolutely penniless." "What is the amount?" 354 THE PI-AY OF FATE "Ten riks-dollars, " said the councilman. "I received some money by post to-day, " said Holm; "it were better that you are my debtor than this man's. There you are, Mr. Councilman, and get yourself out of this," said Holm, drawing from his purse a bank- note and handing it to him. "It is too bad that I must trouble you, my friend," said Maurits, his brow contracting as if in pain, "but I hope to be able to repay you in a few days." Councilman Bogren remained standing at the door. "What more do )'ou want?" cried Holm in a vexed tone. "You have received your money, why do you not go?" "I was wondering if the gentleman would not be disposed to pay Mr. Sterner's rent for the coming term," said Bogren. "Am in need just now of all I can scrape up. Have a large bill pressing me that I must meet." "Get you gone, sir!" shouted Maurits, white with exasperation. "You have no right to demand your rent until the time has expired. So says the contract." "Know that, but thought, maybe, " "Think what you will, but go now or He made a threatening gesture with his hand. Alarmed, the councilman opened the door and re- tired slowly, without further utterance, but hardly did lie find himself out of immediate danger than he halted, and hurled a storm of abuse at the young men. They laughed, and allowed him to indulge himself for a few minutes, but, at last, when he was at his best, Maurits, grasping a pitcher of water, opened the door and hurled its contents over the disturber. Wet as a weathercock in a shower, and his clothing in disorder, the councilman took his departure, not, THE ALTERNATIVE 355 however, without assuring his assailant that he would lodge a complaint before the faculty. "Very* well!" said Holm, throwing himself upon the sofa, "we are rid of that fellow. This is your birth- day, Maurits, and I am come to congratulate you." "Acknowledge that you are come to learn the con- tents of my father's will, of which I spoke yesterday," said Maurits. "I detected at once that your curiosity was excited." "As you will, I do not deny it. Have you read those papers?" "Yes." "And the contents?" "Were quite surprising, that I will confess. You are my friend, Edward Holm, is it not so?" "In life and death." "And I may rely upon your silence, if I should con- fide to you a weighty matter?" "Do I merit your doubt, Maurits?" said Edward seriously, "have you any reason for questioning my trustworthiness? " "No, I believe you," resumed Maurits, "and you shall therefore be my only confidant." He went to the bureau, opened a drawer and took therefrom the broken package, which Holm contem- plated with natural curiosity. "Your manner is so mysterious, Maurits," said he, "that you excite me to the utmost. These papers must contain something of no little importance." "Can you realize," said Maurits, "that I may at any hour not only assume the title of count, but even pos- sess myself of a considerable property left by my de- ceased father?" "You jest, Maurits! " 356 THE PLAY OF FATE "And still more," continued the young man smiling, "can you believe that I have determined to continue as poor as I am, and retain the name that I have hitherto borne? Riches and high birth in all their grandeur are at my bidding and I spurn them as I would a worthless nutshell." "You are relating a tale from the Arabian nights Maurits." Maurits did not answer, but produced his mother's marriage certificate, and his own certificate of baptism, which he silently handed to his friend. Edward read them, and threw up his hands in as- tonishment. "Stjernekrantz!" cried he; "your father's name was Stjernekrantz, that amazingly rich magnate of whom I have often heard speak in my childhood. Then you are brother to the Stjernekrantz of whom you were speaking to us yesterday evening." "Yes, I am the brother of my mother's murderer," said Maurits. "But explain it all to me." "Here is the explanation," interrupted Maurits, handing his friend the count's letter. "Read this." Edward required no second invitation, but grasped the paper and devoured its contents. "Well, what do you say?" asked Maurits, when Ed- ward, speechless, returned the paper. "I am powerless to express my astonishment Your experiences, your birth and your destiny would make material for a romance. You are then rich?" "In potential, yes, as the good Pastor Bergholm used to say, but I have already declined them. I scorn riches." "And your father's name?" THE ALTERNATIVE 357 "Yes, that above all." "But why?" "Because he himself has commanded me to consider carefully whether 1 feel myself strong enough to carry the burden of riches, and, furthermore, because I will not take the name that is borne by the man who was the cause of my mother's death." "That is high-minded, magnanimous," said Holm, "but I fear you will some day regret your resolution." "In that event, I have the evidence and can make use of it at any time 1 choose, and, moreover, what do I renounce? A name! Bah! What is in a name, were it ever so high-sounding? The days of the high- born are past. Nothing but relics remain the rotten ensigns, the rusty swords, the gilded vellum in a word, it is only an illusion that I relinquish." "True enough. But the estates, are they also an illusion?" "No, they are realities," continued Maurits, "but I have considered carefully these words of my father's letter 'Maurits, remember that it is work only that is the wellspring of happiness and honor; that it is only a struggle, and an honorably pursued struggle, that builds up and molds the man.' These words contain a wisdom which our times seem to have scorned but which, nevertheless, have the germ within them of a terrible revolution, if it is not possible to win this end by fair means. These words, that ought to be carved in glittering letters upon the common- wealth's facade, what do they contain other than the teachings of the socialist? No one has a right to a superabundance so long as the labor of any one fails to procure for him all the necessaries of life. " "It is then a principle, a socialistic dogma, that 358 THE PLAY of FATE impels you to relinquish what the world would call your good fortune?" "It is not only a principle, it is more; it is confi- dence in my own ability to win my way unaided, with no accident to thank for it." "But you may sink under the trial." "I do not believe it, I require so little to satisfy my needs. With one or two hundred riks-dollars, my future would be assured." "True, but you haven't so much. You have lived a long time in want." "Yes," said Maurits, "but it will soon be better with me. I have some great projects in mind, my friend." "Indeed, what are they?" "During the hours unoccupied with my studies, I am engaged in the production of a romance, which will bring me ere long the necessary funds for my purpose. " "Let me congratulate you," said Holm surprised. "That is a horse of another color." "And then," continued. Maurits, "I contemplate writ- ing a drama, for which I have an excellent subject." "What is to be its title?" "The amber heart." "Ah, founded then upon the accident that occurred in your childhood, and which you related to us yes terday?" "Yes, and you must acknowledge that there is in it abundant material for a drama. Meantime, I have yet much to learn before I can grapple with my subject." "And you have actually decided to make no use of the papers contained in that package?" "Fully and deliberately decided. They shall be laid to rest, at least until I have carved for myself an THE ALTERNATIVE . 359 independent position. That is my pride you may say of it what you will." "I honor, I admire it," said Holm. "Few men would be equal to renouncing so much." "But now," said Maurits, returning the package to the drawer, which he locked, 'now let us go out. I must get money with which to buy wood, and I must call upon the woman who takes care of my room, and learn in what measure the young Baron Ehrenstam has kept his promise to take little Helena into his care. The fellow must be immensely rich." "Yes, his father gives him all the money he asks. It is said that in one winter in Stockholm he spent as much as ten thousand riks dollars." "That boy! Why, he is hardly seventeen!" "That is no hindrance to his living up to his posi- tion," observed Holm with a bitter smile. "While we were almost freezing to death last winter, this boy spent upon horses, upon dogs, in play and upon mis- tresses, fabulous sums of money, enough to have sup- ported several families during a whole year." "Impossible!" cried Maurits with rising astonish- ment. "A child comparatively, as he is, cannot have been allowed such free rein." "But it is so," replied Edward, "and it is said, moreover, that his father even selected his first mis- tress for him. " "Incredible! Shameful!" cried Maurits. "But how does such debauchery accord with his seeming interest in the young girl you saw here yesterday?" "Oh," said Holm scornfully, Vthat is an easy prob- lem to solve. Helena is yet a child, 'tis true, but George sees well enough that in time she will be a beauty of high order. I would say nothing yesterday, 360 THE PLAY OF FATE but, believe me, I am convinced that this affair will end in the girl's downfall and misfortune." "God in heaven!" gasped Maurits in anguish, "such infamy in a seventeen year old youth is unheard of! But then, it is no more than a suspicion." "Well grounded, nevertheless, that you must ac- knowledge. George, already base at heart, is not ca- pable of a generous act. I noticed with what eyes he contemplated the innocent sacrifice, and I seemed to read in his face the whole of his dark plan as it was hastily formulated. You must be on your guard, lest, in your generous desire to aid the girl, you are made an instrument in her destruction." "You are right, I must save her!" cried Maurits earnestly. "O, the poor girl interests me beyond my powers of expression. But how shall I go about it to get at the certainty of his designs? In case you have been mistaken in your judgment, it were cruel to put obstacles in the way of George's plans. I must inves- tigate carefully before I take any such steps, and, be- fore all, I must win the girl's confidence. Come now, let us go." CHAPTER V GOD'S FINGER At the extreme end of Svartsback Street, in Upsala, was situated at the time of our narrative, or in the closing months of 1820, a small, red, frame house of very uninviting appearance. It had not so much as a tile on its roof, but was covered with turf, and the little light that penetrated to the two apartments crept through a small pane of green and dirt-begrimed glass. In one of these rooms dwelt Helena and her mother. It was reasonably large, but cold and damp. The furniture could be inventoried at a glance for, except the bare necessities, all had been sold, article by ar- ticle, to procure bread while their distress was great- est, and Mrs. Anderson, so Helena's mother was called, now had in her miserable hut nothing more than a bed, a table, and three rickety chairs. It was the morning following Helena's visit to Mau- rits. The poor girl stood before the fireplace, shiver- ing with cold, endeavoring vainly to blow to a blaze a few soggy sticks of wood that lay smoking in the ashes, in the effort to induce warmth enough to boil a few drops of milk for her sick mother who was com- plaining bitterly of an unquenchable thirst. But, unable to start the fire, and not daring to give her mother the milk cold as it was, she burst into a wail. "I can't help it, mamma!" said she, half crying, "the miserable sticks will not burn. I tried a few 301 362 THE PLAY OF FATE minutes ago to beg a few dry ones from Mrs. Gron- lund, but she said she had none too much for her own use. " "God help us, my poor girl!" the mother cried. "We shall surely freeze to death if the winter contin- ues so severe, and I in such miserable health, unable to earn anything by washing. What will become of you, what will become of us!" And Mrs. Anderson tossed herself to and fro upon her wretched bed. "Maybe the splendid young man who spoke to. me at Mr. Sterner's yesterday wi41 come and help us. You remember, I told you about him last evening when I returned home. " "Oh! my dear child, those gentlemen were only amusing themselves with you. W 7 hat should they see to admire or care for, in such a poor little creature as 3 T ou? They have surely other things to think of than charity. If you were full grown, it might be, but you are yet only a child." "And why should they care more for me if I were full grown?" asked Helena innocently. "You cannot understand, my child. There will be time enough for you to learn it. Well, have you the fire started?" "Yes, it will burn, I think. Are you very ill to-day, mamma?" "No, I feel somewhat better now. This is not my day for a chill, but I am very faint, and it is so dread- fully cold here." "Mr. Sterner promised to get us some wood to-day," said Helena. "Oh, how good he is! He lent me his guitar, and I sang the 'Alpine girl' for him." "Yes, he is very kind-hearted, the dear man," said GOD'S FINGER 363 the woman, "but extremely poor. He has barely clothes enough to cover his nakedness, and yet he studies diligently night and day. I remember he said to me last Christmas, 'Mrs. Anderson, I have no can- dle to-day and neither have I any money, but I shall have some in the morning. If you have a candle to spare, please fetch it. You shall have two in return in the morning.' I at once ran home after a small candle and took it to him, and the next day he sent me two large ones in payment. I would not accept them, for I thought it a sin, but he became vexed and said I must take them, and Christmas night he gave me an apron and twenty-four skillings, though he had nothing more for his supper than a few rusks and a cup of milk that I bought for him at Mrs. Berg- lund's. And there he sat the whole evening, reading the Bible, while his comrades were out at the tavern making merry." Helena listened with manifest pleasure to her moth- er's story, and with such attention that she quite for- got to blow the fire, now about to die out again. "Set the pan on, child," said her mother, "so that I may have something with which to warm my stomach. We shall see whether Mr. Sterner keeps his word, and sends the wood. I am much more certain that he will than that the other gentleman will get us a better room and give us clothes. What was the gentleman^s name?" "I don't know, mamma, but Mr. Sterner called him baron, t heard some name, but have forgotten it. Let me see, I think it was something like Ehren Ehren- jelm ' "Girl!" shrieked the mother, springing to a sitting posture, and throwing the long black locks back from her forehead, "girl, was his name Ehrenstam?." THE PLAY OF FATE "Yes, that is it, I believe," answered Helena art- lessly, "but why are you so disturbed? Surely you have never heard of him before. " "Have I not! Yes, I have heard the name to my everlasting sorrow and shame," muttered the woman in low tones. "Oh, my God! maybe he is of the same family. " "What do you say, mother?" inquired Helena, alarmed at her mother's disquiet and hastening to her bedside; "what in the name of the Lord is the matter with you?" "Oh! it is nothing," muttered the mother, "attend to your pan or the milk will boil over. O, Jacob, Jacob!" "Jacob, mother," said the girl, "who was he? I have often heard you mention that name. Perhaps it was my father? " "Yes, my girl, your father's name was Jacob." "And is he dead?" "Yes, he is dead," stammered the woman, barely making herself heard. "O, my God!" continued she to herself, "my sin has been sorely punished. I can- not tell the child whether or not her father lives. I do not myself know." At this instant, the door to the cottage was violent- ly thrown open, and George Ehrenstam presented him- self on the threshold. As if a ghost had suddenly appeared before her, the sick woman uttered a cry, and hid her face in her hands at sight of her visitor. 'It is he," she cried in terror, "or it is his spirit. But he is dead, was murdered, I have been told. It was long ago, and he looks so young, a child in comparison with my false betrayer. No, it must be a relative. His brother, GOD'S FINGER 365 probably. The ways of the Lord are wonderful, and it may be this one will do good to atone for the crime of the other." If the poor woman could have penetrated the design of the youth, she would not have thought it God's providence, but fate. Meantime, George had neared Helena, who, timid and embarrassed, continued at the fireplace blowing the fire. "Good morning, my pretty child," said he, patting her upon the cheek, "do you recognize me?" "Yes, Herr Baron," answered the young girl, blushing red as a rose, "it was you who yesterday "Promised to take care of you," said George. "Ex- actly, and I have come to fulfill my promises now. Is that poor woman your mother?" "Yes, sir. " George advanced to the bed, where Mrs. Anderson still sat with her face hidden in her hands. "You are quite ill, poor woman," said he in sympa- thetic tones, "it is also cold and damp here. Feeble as you are, you will die if you remain in this wretched hut." The sick woman withdrew her hands from her eyes ? and glared at the youth with a look so full of hate and menace that he instinctively drew back in alarm. He was soon composed, however, and again approached the bed. "Your mother's mind wanders," said he, addressing the girl. "Yes, mamma has been a little flighty at times." "Get thee gone! Get thee gone, Satan," muttered the woman, smiting the air as one raving; "you tempt me in vain!" 366 THE PLAY OF FATE "Mamma! " cried Helena anxiously, "what are you talking about? It is the kind young man of whom I spoke to you yesterday evening. It is he who would help us." "Ah, is it he!" said the poor woman, as if waking from a dream. "What does the gentleman want?" "I think it is a pity that you and your pretty daugh- ter should be so situated. I am come to aid you, and to provide a better place of residence, clothes, and food, and whatever else you may require. Your daugh- ter sings like an angel. I had the pleasure of hearing her yesterday, and wish to provide her an opportunity to develop her talent. She will be a great songstress in time." "What is your name, sir?" said the sick woman curtly "George Ehrenstam." "Have you any brothers?" "No, but a sister." "Have you had a brother?" "Yes, a half-brother. But how does that concern you?" "And your brother was murdered!" shrieked the woman violently. "Yes," said George, surprised, "he was murdered a number of years ago. But how in the world do you know that?" "And is it not certain that you are sent here by Sa- tan to add to the misfortunes of my daughter and my- self!" she shrieked as one deranged; "is it not quite certain!" "Your mother is surely out of her mind," said George coldly, turning to Helena, "she wanders." "Forgive her, barcn," said Helena half crying, "I GOD'S FINGER 367 cannot imagine what has so moved her. She has never been so before. " "She seems to have a knowledge of the affairs of my family," said George. "How is it possible that she could have obtained it?" "I don't know," answered Helena; "but speak, mother," continued she, turning to her mother, "what is wrong with you?" "I am better now, my girl," said the sick woman, recovering herself. "I was a little flighty just now, I fear. Forgive me, sir, that I manifested such feel- ing at the mention of your name. It came about be- cause of my having lived during my childhood near the spot where your brother was murdered, where I heard it spoken of frequently. It was the horror of the circumstances that so wrought upon me." "Ah, indeed," said George, "let us then get to the purpose of my coming here. I am rich and I am in- terested in your daughter. I have determined to help her forward upon the path which I have been informed was once laid out for her. You are acquainted with Mr. Sterner?" "Yes,, I have taken care of his rooms for several months." "Well, we have made this arrangement. He is to give Helena daily instruction in such branches of every- day education as are required by her, and I am to pro- vide the necessaries of life, and pay for her lessons in music, for which she has an unusual genius. At the expiration of a yeat, I am to get her a place in the theater at Stockholm, and, if all goes well, before many years, she will be one of our most renowned singers. What do you say to this?" An indefinable foreboding of danger seized Mrs. 368 THE PLAY OF FATE Anderson at these tempting offers but she banished it as groundless, and, besides, she loved her daughter so dearly that she found herself incapable of saying no. "Baron," said she, after a few minutes of medita- tion, "I do not know you, but if you are doing this in conjunction with Mr. Sterner, as you represent, I must believe your motives good, for he would not be party to an act that would add to .our misfortunes. Am I right?" Despite his callousness and usual assurance, the young baron could not face the frank questioning of the poor woman whose only child he would rear to a life of shame, and fastened his eyes in embarrassment upon the floor. His confusion did not last long, how- ever, and his answer came calmly: "How can you ask such questions, madame? I de- sign further troubles for you? It were truly a strange way of preparing one's destruction to proffer her sup- port." Quieted by George's calm tones and innocent man- ner (for the young man had already learned how to mold his expression of face to suit the occasion) the woman answered: "Then, with heart-felt thanks, I accept your gener- ous offer. My daughter must possess extraordinary talent to interest you to such a degree. May she ful- fill the hopes you entertain for her future." "And you, little Helena, what have you to say about it?" asked George, patting the girl's head. Helena nodded and blushed. Half crying, she stammered her gratitude. Unconscious of the impend- ing danger, she could hardly restrain herself from dancing with joy at the brilliant prospect so unexpect- edly opened put before her. GOD'S FINGER 369 "Prepare then to move into a suite of neat rooms that I have already rented for you," said George. "You are not so ill, I think, my dear madame, that you cannot go out?" "No, indeed," said the woman, all scruples now ban- ished, and as if endowed with new life at sight of the good fortune that had visited her and her daughter; "no, indeed, I feel as fresh as a young girl. Where are we to live, dear baron?" George gave her the name of the street and the house number, and added: "You need no longer take care of students' rooms, madame. I will give you a month- ly allowance, sufficient to support you, and you ma}', if you will, earn a little with )-our needle to help along." "That I will," cried the woman cheerily. "I will sew all day long, if I can only get work enough." "I'll get you work. What can you sew, for in- stance? " "I can make shirts and night gowns and, besides, I have done washing for the students." ''No, that you shall not do hereafter," said George. "If Helena must help she would spoil her hands. I would much prefer to give you all the money you re* quire. And, moreover, your, daughter is not to be burdened with any kind of work. She is to read, play and sing, nothing more." "Ah! she will then be a perfect lady!" said the mother, regarding her daughter with pride.. "But you must not desert your poor mother, Helena." "How can you think of such a thing, mamma!" ex- claimed the girl, tears welling up in her eyes. "Could 1 do other than love you, you who have been so kind to me!" 370 THE PLAY OF FATE "It is settled, then," said George. "Prepare now to move. In an hour, I will return 'and conduct you to your new home. Until then, farewell!" and, open- ing the door, he departed. "Is it a dream!" cried Helena, leaping into the air with joy. "No, it is a reality! I am to learn to sing, play and read, as was designed for me by my former good patron in Stockholm. O, isn't it delightful!" "It is God' swill, I see clearly, " muttered the mother to herself. "It were a sin, therefore, to oppose it. One brother was the cause of our misfortunes, where- upon God sends the other to rescue us from our distress. O, Father, thy ways are wonderful!" CHAPTER VI GEORGE "Does Mrs. Anderson live here?" asked Maurits, a few hours later in the forenoon, approaching a little house in Svartsback Street, and accosting an elderly woman who was busied on the porch scaling fish The person addressed was Madame Gronlund, a fat, florid- faced matron of several and fifty years, the occupant of the second of the two rooms in the miserable hut. "No," answered Madame Grcnlund, "she has been ennobled, I think, and could no longer dwell in such plebeian quarters. I believe she has received an in- heritance, at the least, for she informed me she should move to Vaxala Street, and have two rooms; that she need not work any more, and that her daughter, the little minx, is to be a lady of renown in time. There was a young man here this morning, and it was he, I understand, who procured the rooms for them. But what she can have to do with him, is more than I can comprehend. The girl is too young, and the mother too old for such a young blood to court. They had be- come so stuck up already that they would hardly look at me when they left. " "They have gone, then! " said Maurits, interrupting the woman's flow of words. "Yes, sir, as I said, and they did not even take with them the goods they had here. They have no further use for such ordinary things; maybe they are to have 371 372 THE PLAY OF FATE cushioned chairs, a sofa, and a mattress; but pride goes before a fall. " "I have come too late," said Maurits to himself, turning away. "The evil is already done and it may be impossible now to avoid the consequences. He is quick in the execution of his designs, this fellow. Ah, surely, perhaps this woman knows in which house they may be found. " Maurits returned, and inquired of the woman if she could give him any more definite information as to the present whereabouts of the objects of his search. "No, I know absolutely nothing more," said Ma- dame Gronlund. 'But, if the gentleman will pay me I will run out and try to learn something further." "Oh, no, that is not necessary," said Maurits, smile ing, "I'll find them, no doubt, without much trouble. Moreover, it is not of great consequence. " "What is to be done?" muttered the young man, a s he slowly paced the street. "That little girl interests me deeply. I can hardly say why. If it is George's plan to have her for a mistress as Holm insinuated, I must endeavor to thwart him. Her young, inexperienced heart could soon be trained to cling to her benefac- tor. Ah, Monsieur George, there will be a watchful eye upon you! I will be in the way of the consummation of your scheme, and it shall be my revenge for the cut given me in my childhood with your whip. But, when I consider the mother, I can hardly bring myself to believe in the possibility of George's undertaking such a thing. He is surely too young." A powerful blow upon the shoulder interrupted Maurits' train of thought. "Thinking of marriage, Maurits?" shouted jolly Albert Broman, grasping him by the arm. "I have GEORGE 373 tramped the length of the street, shouting myself hoarse at you, but you did not hear me. What sort of an ants' nest have you in your head now?" "I have not thought of marrying/ 1 said Maurits, "but I was pondering how I may prevent a 'left handed marriage.'" "What the deuce do you mean by that!" "You remember, probably, the young girl, my house- keeper's daughter, about whom we were speaking yes- terday?" "The little Helena that Ehrenstam, or whatever his name is, would bring up in conjunction with you, you philanthropist! Well, what about her?" Maurits related what had happened, and disclosed his suspicions regarding George's mysterious plans. "We will keep an eye to the little innocent, depend upon it. She is too good for that whelp of nobility, who, relying upon his wealth, believes that he may play the villain with impunity. But we will outwit him, and, after he has been allowed to spend a hand- some sum upon her, we will snatch the young victim from him. She is just now, at any rate, so young that you, who are to be her teacher, may be able to imbue her with a thousand virtues, only beware that you do not yourself fall in love, to cap the climax." "Have no fear," said Maurits. "But I must go now and hunt up George to ask him what he has done with our protege". I have no idea where they live." "I'll go with you a ways," said Albert. "But it just occurs to me that to-day is your birthday, and you have already opened that secret package." "Yes," said Maurits, "I have opened it." "And its contents, brother? You are as rich as CDESUS; I can see as much in your face. Those pa- pers have been worth a gold mine; is it not so?" 374 THE PLAY OF FATE "No, no," answered Maurits, "they do not change my circumstances in the least. I remain as poor as ever. But, earnestly, my dear Albert, though I would gladly do so, I cannot confide to you the contents of those papers. It must remain a secret for the pres- ent." "Very well, retain it then," said Albert somewhat displeased. "It seems to me, nevertheless, that you might have confidence in me. You know very well that I would not, under any circumstances, abuse your confidence. As you will, however. Let us go on." "Young Ehrenstam lives here," said Maurits, halt- ing before a large house. "Are you going up to see him?"" "Yes, it is necessary." "Farewell then! " and Albert passed on. "He is nettled," said Maurits to himself, "but I dare not confide my secret to him, for, though I do not doubt his friendship, I may reasonably fear that in a moment of over joy he would let some word escape him, and that I wish to avoid.'" Hereupon Maurits entered the house. "Does Baron Ehrenstam live here?" he inquired of a young girl whom he met on the stairs. "Yes, there is a young man of that name lodging here, a recent comer. Up two flights of stairs, please." Maurits followed instructions and was soon stand- ing before a door upon which was tacked a calling card bearing the name, 'George Ehrenstam." He opened the door and entered. George was stretched listlessly upon a sofa, smoking a cigar. Before him stood a table on which lay sev. eral handsomely bound books that had the appearance' of being very little used. The room was large and GKORGE 375 elegantly furnished. The door to an adjoining bed- chamber stood open, and beyond this there seemed to be a room which might be used as a dressing-room. Mauri ts' brows contracted a little at sight of such lux- ury in a student's room. He greeted George politely, however, and the latter rose, and, advancing, extended his hand. "Welcome!" said he with an engaging smile "Be seated, and have a cigar. I pride myself upon my ability to proffer you pure havanas. " Maurits thanked him and, lighting his cigar, took a seat. "You live like a prince, my dear baron! " exclaimed he. "Why not?" said George carelessly. "I had a mind to take a whole floor, but it was not possible to find just what I wanted, wherefore I was obliged to con- tent myself with these three poor rooms. I had three times as many during my sojourn in Stockholm last winter." Maurits shrugged his shoulders, and remained silent. The young man was at a loss to know how to in- troduce the subject of his visit. He hesitated to wound him, for, knowing George's irritable and arro- gant nature, he feared an irreparable breach that might possibly deprive him of his part in the education of the young girl in whom the two young men, their mo- tives very different, were interested. George was the first to address himself to the sub- ject. "You are come, I suppose," said he, "for the pur- pose of discussing the future of our young ward, the little girl from Svartsback Street." "Yes," said Maurits, "I am anxious to know what THE PLAY OF FATE you have done with her, for I heard at her former dwelling-place that she had already gone." "They reside now in King Street, the Vaxala House," said George. "I have rented two neat rooms, and have taken measures to provide the girl with a teacher of music. She is to begin her lessons at once, I to pay tor them. I expect to supply the necessary funds for their daily wants also. But how about her other instruction? Will you undertake to teach her language and history, Mr. Sterner? Perhaps you are already too much taken up with your own lessons?" "No," answered Maurits, "I will set aside a few hoprs of each day for the little girl. I will instruct her at her home as likely to be most convenient." "That is what I was thinking," said George. "We will visit them in company to-morrow morning, if you wish. They will be more presentable than to-day, for I have seen to it that they shall have some becoming clothes, instead of their former rags." "It must be a great pleasure to you, baron," said Maurits, with a tinge of irony in his words, "to be able to do so much good. You are employing your riches in a truly noble manner to do such a noble deed, your sole dictator love for human kind. ' George dropped his eyes for a second. He understood that Maurits had begun to mistrust him, and he was exceedingly anxious to dispel every cloud of suspicion from the mind of his co-worker, fearing that Maurits would otherwise exercise his influence over the girl, and, possibly, lay bare to Helena and her mother his scheme, causing them to suspect and fear him, and thus thwart him. Lifting his eyes finally, he exclaimed: "You do not know how you embarrass me with your praise, Mr. Sterner." GEORGE 377 "Why so?" inquired Maurits, in surprise. "Because I do not merit it, for, you shall know, though I am yet barely eighteen, I have already com- mitted a great many follies. I have thoughtlessly thrown away great sums of money in pleasures which have left nothing but emptiness and loathing in my soul. My father, who is immeasurably rich, has not had the strength to deny me anything from my earliest childhood, in consequence of which I was very early in the full whirl of dissipations such as are bought with gold. But I assure you that I now find a much greater satisfaction in the outlay of the few hundred dollars in aiding this poor woman and her daughter than I enjoyed from the many thousands I threw away in Stockholm in a few months. It was the recollection of the shameful life I have heretofore led that caused me, a few minutes ago, to drop my glance for an in- stant when you were praising me for my generosity. I felt a consciousness that, except the case under dis- cussion, I could hardly count an instance of generos- ity in my whole life. " Maurits did not answer. He hardly knew what to think, so astonished was he at George's unexpected utterances. He eyed him closely, but in George's face he could see nothing but the utmost candor, and not a feature betrayed that his sole purpose was to pull the wool over Maurits' eyes. "But, my dear Mr. Sterner," resumed George in a patronizing tone, "I some time ago determined to mend my ways, and do some good, if possible. I know it will bring me greater satisfaction than all the boisterous pleasures in which I have heretofore partic- ipated. My father gives me ten thousand riks-dollars a year to use as I wish. I acknowledge that I am 37& THE PLAY OF FATE somewhat selfish so far, at least, that I will live comfortably, eat well and dress well, since providence has been pleased to bestow upon me such abundant riches. Understand me correctly, I regard this as my right, so long as I employ the surplus of my yearly allowance in relieving the wants of the needy. I have made a sacred vow to so use it. I recognize fully the justice of the socialistic teachings that the rich ought to provide for the poor, if he will not make himself unworthy the power for which he may thank good fortund alone. You shall assist me in the car- rying out of my plans." "I?" "Yes, of course. When you discover one, needy, and deserving help, come to me. You shall bestow alms in my stead, for I prefer not to be known my- self. I blush almost that I did not better disguise my plans to assist Helena and her mother, but I did not think of it in time You may be sure, however, I did not enter their presence for the purpose, or with a design to earn their thanks, and renown for my benefactions. Hereafter, when I wish to do works of charity, I will have no other confidant than you, and you will not betray me, I hope." George's tones were so sincere, his countenance ex- pressed such earnestness and truthfulness at the in- stant, that Maurits, feeling it impossible that one so youthful could be so trained in artifice, was complete ly deceived. Though he had suffered during his childhood, Mau- rits had seen little of the world. Busied with his books, he had wholly neglected to study mankind. There remained for him therefore many bitter expe- riences to undergo. GEORGE 37Q The upright and guileless youth was charmed by George's declarations. He loved to believe in the good, for during the few years past hate and mistrust instilled into him from his boyhood had lost their force. He forgot that the young man with whom he was now conversing, who spoke so seemingly from his innermost heart, and uttered such noble sentiments, was the same who had caused his boyish heart to pul- sate with anger at the repeated wrongs done him. He forgot Jacob Kron's dreadful warning, "Have no confi- dence in the rich, my boy, however honeyed their words may be. Believe me, from Satan's eggs noth- ing but hell-kites can be hatched." He forgot all this and was completely carried away by his feelings. He grasped George's hand, and exclaimed eagerly: "I believe you, Herr Baron! You are a nobleman at heart, although you may for a time have descended from your level. In my boyhood, I was influenced to hate the rich. Incensed against them because of un- deserved wrongs, I was near swearing a life-long hate against the whole class. I have recovered from my delusion, and you shall strengthen me to the utmost in my present faith. We will work together for our own betterment and happiness and that of our fellow creat- ures. We will counsel and support each other, and though I am poor, we will, nevertheless, be friends. Shall it be so?" "With all my heart," said George, returning Mau- rits' grasp with seeming eagerness. "I will endeavor to make myself worthy of such a noble friendship, for, with our first meeting, I was very much impressed with you. You are moved by the most honorable mo- tives. Your life has been a chain of exalted deeds. I know that I cannot boast of such, but though, as 380 THE PLAY OF FATE you say, I have been borne away from the path of rectitude, I am not wholly lost to all good instincts. You are to help me till them and make them bear fruit." "Agreed," cried Maurits eagerly. "I will confess freely, Herr Baron, that I came here with little con- fidence in you, and my suspicions excited as to your motives; a suspicion based quite naturally upon the irregularities of your past life. I leave you, honoring you for the noble sentiments you have expressed, the sincerity of which I cannot doubt." "I am grateful, Mr. Sterner, that your impressions have so changed to my advantage. I will endeavor to make myself deserve your good opinion. But, forgive me, I would make one proposition- since we are friends, let us be more, let us be brothers." "With pleasure," said Maurits, pressing George's hand, "and I hope I can be all you would have in a brother. If I can be useful to you, I will not be found wanting. You are younger than I, and here in Upsala it is customary for the seniors to counsel and guide the younger. But farewell, now, George, I'll come in the morning, and we will go together to Helena and her mother." George rose and followed Maurits to the door "Ha, ha!" laughed he, when once more alone. "I pulled the wool over his eyes nicely. He fell into the snare, and is no longer dangerous. They are a funny set, these soft-hearted Samaritans, these philanthropists who spend their substance doing for the rabble. How wholly they are lacking in knowledge of human nature, wherefore it is not at all difficult to lead them by the nose. My dear Maurits Sterner, you are by no mean keen-sighted enough to penetrate me, notwithstanding GEORGE 381 your two or three years seniority. Oh, but I played the repentant sinner charmingly! I wish my father could have seen it." I will be this youth's preceptor in good deeds," thought Maurits, hunting downstairs with a light heart; "I will teach him to love mankind and virtue; to hate the base pleasures to which he has heretofore devoted so much of his time and substance. He is good at heart and his missteps have been the out- growth of over-indulgence on the part of his proud and egotistical parents. But he is now away from their influence. His instincts are good, though nearly smothered, and they may yet be brought to life. Riches and excesses have not yet wholly spoiled him. He needs only a leader. I will appoint myself to the office. It shall be my revenge for all the wrongs suffered at his hands and those of other members of his family during my childhood." CHAPTER VII THE TWO TEACHERS We will hasten over a period of a few months, and conduct the reader, on a sunny afternoon early in the month of June of the same year, to the beautiful and elegantly furnished apartments in King Street, occu- pied by Helena and her mother. Madame Anderson has changed almost beyond recog- nition since we last saw her in the miserable hut in Svartsback Street. She is no longer shaking with the ague and, though her outward attire is only a neat dress of dark plaid wool, her whole appearance is one of prosperity and contentment. She is seated at the window, sewing. On the long side of the room is a sofa, on which, leaning over a table, sits Helena, busily employed with a book. Helena has developed not a little both in body and mind during the few months past. She is now almost fifteen, and the pretty little miss is about to blossom into the beautiful young woman. Her form has be- gun to assume a charming fullness, and her rich chest nut brown hair falls in luxuriant waves over her soft cheeks on which still repose,- in spring-like freshness, the roses of innocence and health. Her dark brown eyes, fringed with black lashes, we are unable to see clearly, as they are continually on the pages of her book. A pure, undeveloped child heart, not yet seared by 382 THE TWO TEACHERS 383 passion's scorching breath, beat full and warm beneath a gently swelling bosom, white as new-fallen snow. Her lips, twin cherries, are moved for an instant in a smile. She is reading a romance, the first she has ever seen, and she laughs at the characters portrayed by the author. Helena's dress is not of costly mate- rial, but well made and fitting neatly the nymph-like form. From under her dress protrudes a foot clad in a morocco slipper so small that it might answer for a child of six instead of a maiden approaching sixteen. "What are you reading, my child?" asked the mother, glancing at her idolized daughter; "it must be something very pleasing. You laugh." "It is a book lent me by Baron George. It is very amusing. "I'm astonished. I supposed you read only such books as were given you by Mr. Sterner. Does he know that you have it?" "No." said Helena, somewhat curtly, "and he need not know it, either. Mr. Sterner is truly very good, but he is so dreadfully serious, and will never allow me to read anything that is pleasing. He would have me eternally conjugating and declining. reading history and studying geography, but one tires of such things after a time, my dear mother. Wherefore, Baron George has promised to lend me some novels, now and then, with which to divert myself. I think a great deal of both gentlemen," continued Helena, "yet if I were choosing between them for a husband, I should much, prefer George. He is so full of life and so clever while Mr. Sterner is so serious, so stern, and does little else than moralize. Moreover, we are much more indebted to George, for he has informed me that he is supporting us, and that Mr. Sterner is very poor; 384 THE PLAY OF FATE also that it is merely to gratify a v/him that he is allowed to instruct me, and that I might have a paid teacher just as in music, if I choose. But, as Mr. Sterner seems to find a pleasure in teaching me, he will not oppose him if he can be gratified at so little cost." "Girl, girl! " said Madame Anderson earnestly, "one thing I would say to you, and that is, you must not allow yourself to fall in love with either of your ben- efactors, especial!} 7 George. Remember what I tell you, the result would be only misfortune and ruin." "Fie, mamma!" said Helena innocently, "I do not understand you. It should not surprise any one if I like Baron George who is so good -to us. I should be an ingrate else." "You owe it to him to be grateful. Be careful, however, not to allow any other feeling to take pos- session of you. May God shield you, my child! 1 do not doubt that Baron George is an honorable, also a very good young man, and that, influenced by pure generosity, he has undertaken your education, but 'opportunity makes thieves' the saying goes, and if he should observe in you a warmer feeling than grat- itude, it would be only a step to O, my girl, it is terrible! I will not allow myself to think of it." Helena fixed her large dark eyes in childish inquiry upon her mother. It was plain to be seen that she did not fully comprehend the import of her mother's utterances. "Let us quit this subject, my child," said Madame Anderson. "I hear steps on the stairs. It is probably Mr. Sterner coming to hear you recite. I'll retire to the other room." She rose and withdrew as Maurits entered the outer apartment, THE TWO TEACHERS 385 Surprised by his sudden entrance, Helena forgot to conceal the, romance which George had lent her, with strict injunctions that Maurits was not to see it. Maurits advanced, and saluted his young pupil pleas- antly, but his eyes falling upon the open book whose title page he caught sight of long enough to read, a cloud swept over his face. Helena blushed as if she had been caught in a trans- gression, as, no doubt, her conscience told her she had, Maurits having repeatedly cautioned her against reading other than such books as provided or recom- mended by him. "From whom did you get this, Helena?" asked Mau- rits, seriously but mildly. "Baron George." 'What!" cried Maurits, with frowning brows, "does George procure books of that character for you! I could not have believed it!" "And what is there bad about it?" inquired the girl, with a little show of defiance in her tone and manner. "There is nothing dangerous in it." "Yes, my friend," replied Maurits, dropping the romance into his pocket, "that book, believe me, Helena, is highly dangerous to a young mind not yet taught to distinguish between good and evil. It is interesting and fascinating, I will allow, but the moral- ity preached by the author is by no means the best. I desire that my young pupil have confidence in me, and that she read only such books as I may know about. If you wish something entertaining,! will bring you some of Walter Scott's works. Such books you may read without danger that your imagination will be affected by impure pictures. This book of which I have taken possession contains many impurities, and I shall give 386 THE PLAY OF FATE George a serious warning not to repeat the act. I will believe, however, that this happened through thought- lessness. " "But I don't understand you." "There is much that you do not understand, little Helena," interrupted Maurits gently; "you will do well, however, to read what your more experienced friend and teacher your brother says, for I am your brother, your guide, Helena. Believe me, I mean well. " "Yes, I know you do," said Helena feelingly, "and if you say I must not read such books, I will obey you, Mr. Sterner, although I can't see what harm there is in it. At any rate, I have read only a few pages." "So much the better. Let us sa)' no more about it. Now to the lessons. Have you learned them?" "Yes, 1 think I know them, but there is a matter in the French grammar that I do not understand clearly. Will you be good enough to explain it to me?" "Let me see what it is." The lessons began, and continued for two hours. Maurits had every reason to be satisfied with his pupil, for Helena was gifted with an excellent memory, and her progress was rapid and surprising. "Have you had your music lesson to-day?" asked Maurits, putting aside the books. "Yes, Professor K was here this forenoon, and I played and sang for him two hours. He comes every day." "He is very well satisfied with you, Helena. I had a talk with him yesterday. He declared that your talent for music is something wonderful. In a few weeks, you have learned, he informed me, more than any other one of his pupils during a whole year. Your THE TWO TEACHERS 387 voice is also excellent and of unusual compass, he says. Continue as earnestly and diligently with your studies, and we shall be more than proud of you one of these days. I hcpe you will be so far advanced in a few months now that you may take a position in the royal theater of Stockholm. You will make your fort- une, may be. But you must never forget, whatever may happen you, that of all the treasures with which you may be endowed, innocence and virtue are most to be prized. They are better and more precious than all the accomplishments you can possibly acquire. If accomplishments are not elevated and ennobled by virtue, little or no satisfaction is gained, for, though the heights of fame may be reached, there can be no genuine happiness if the heart is not pure. Ah, Hel- ena, young and inexperienced child, a thousand temp- tations beset your path; snares will be laid for you on every hand, but keep ever uppermost in your mind that innocence and modesty, those two precious pearls in the crown of your youth, are worth much more than all the pleasures the world can afford you. I shall always follow your career with the keenest in- terest, Helena, attid may the time never come when you need lower your pure face before your brother's glance. God bless you, my child!" Maurits leaned forward, and pressed a gentle kiss upon the young girl's white forehead. It was a pure kiss; a kiss at which angels might have wept with joy, for it was the expression of an overflowing heart free from all sensuality, all selfishness; the expression of pure love for a sister in Christ. "Farewell, now, Helena, I'll come again to-morrow afternoon. " "He is so good," said Helena when Maurits had 388 THE PLAY OF FATE gone, "but he is excessively serious, and preaches, and preaches such doleful sermons. And he has taken my book. That was very unkind of him, to say the least. What possible harm can there be in reading a romance? The whole world reads them, George says, and when he, who is really my benefactor, per- mits me, I feel that Mr. Sterner has no right to in- terfere. It will be amusing to hear what George will have to say about it. The jolly fellow. Ah, if he would only come this evening." Helena had hardly uttered these words than her wish was gratified. The door opened, and George entered. "Are you alone, my little Helena?" he inquired, saluting her with a slight gesture of the hand. "No, mamma is in the next room," answered she, blushing red as a rose. "Mr. Sterner has just gone." "Yes. I met him on the street," said George, seat- ing himself upon the sofa. "He read me a lecture for lending you the romance. Why did you show it to him?" "I was reading it just before he entered, and did not have time to conceal it. I am so sorry he took it from me, it was so nice." "You shall have it again," resumed George, taking the book from his pocket. "He returned it to me on the street, and I see no harm in reading it, whatever Maurits' opinions may be on the subject. But come here and sit, Helena." The maiden dropped her e)'es, and blushing and embarrassed, took the proffered seat on the sofa at George's side. "What ails you, Helena? Has Maurits been lectur- ing you again? He is a regular Solomon, that fellow." THE TWO TEACHERS 389 "Yes, he is very wise, and very good," said Helena, "but" "But what?" "He is a little tiresome at times," resumed the girl, toying with George's watch-chain. "You are very en- tertaining, Baron George." "Do you think so? That flatters me. I wish you would not call me baron, however. It is so formal. You must call me George, without the attachment, at least when we are alone. Will you not?" "No, no!" exclaimed Helena, as if forewarned of danger in such familiarity, "that would never do!" "Bah! you silly girl!" said George, patting her cheek, "why do you not dare when I give you permission? It is my wish, Helena." "Then I must obey, I suppose. Otherwise you will be provoked with me, probably, Herr Bar George pressed his finger upon her lips. "There you are with your baron again. You are not as obe- dient as you might be." "Forgive me, George. It is my duty to obey you." "Ah, that I like. And now give me the drift of Maurits' sermons. It must be very affecting to hear him. I have been tempted to hide myself sometime under the sofa here that I may have the benefit of his edifying morals." "No, you must not do that. I am sure I could not keep from laughing, and that would not be right, for he is very kind to me, and has taught me many useful things. He says he would be a brother to me, and I must treat him as such." "A brother!" muttered George. "Well, let him, willingly, if it goes no farther. See here," said he aloud, "you shall have this romance and many others 3QO THE PLAY OF FATE quite as interesting but on one condition. You are never to show them to Maurits. You can easily con- ceal them in the drawer of your bureau, where they will be beyond his sight." "Thank you, George. Nevertheless, I do not know whether I dare," said the young girl irresolutely. "Why not?" "Because I promised Mr. Sterner I would read only such books as he may know of and recommend. He forbade me emphatically." "What right has he to dictate to you?" protested George. "You need never obey any other than me, and what I sanction, you may do without fear. Moreover, Maurits need know nothing about it. There is the book." Still Helena hesitated for an instant to break the promise so recently given to Maurits, but the tempta- tion to read what had promised to be such a charming story was too strong. Though her conscience told her that she was doing wrong, she could not resist, and taking the book from George's hand, she arose and hid it safely in the drawer of the bureau. The young libertine smiled, and a flash of triumph lighted up his countenance. "That heart cannot resist me," thought he. "It will not be long until she will be mine. She will soon be sixteen and then " "What are you thinking about, George?" "I was thinking what a pleasure it will be, one of these days, to see you appear in the theater of Stock- holm. Do you not long for it, Helena?" "Ah, yes!" cried the girl joyfully, "that I do, of course. God grant that I may be accepted." ' Have no fear, I'll answer for that. I have power- ful and influential friends at the capital." THE TWO TEACHERS 3QI "Ah, but you are good, George! How shall I ever demonstrate my gratitude?" "You must give me first place in your regard, " said George. "You must promise me this, Helena." "O, yes, I esteem you highly." "That is kind, but I must leave you now. Farewell!" George embraced the young maiden, and pressed a kiss upon her glowing lips. This kiss was not as pure as the brotherly one re- ceived not long before from her other teacher. Helena felt this instinctive!)', for her face became crimson, and her breast heaved as if moved by some violent feeling. The burning passion of sensuality was trans- mitted to her veins in that kiss. It was the kiss of a Judas, for by it, a young, inexperienced and inno- cent heart was betrayed. It was a starlight evening a few months later. The hour was eleven. At the entrance to the house in which George Ehrenstam dwelt, stood two young men, wrapped in long cloaks whose upturned collars hid their faces. "You have grounds for believing that he has de- ceived you, Maurits?" said one of them in a low voice. "Yes, Edward, I fear so. I sought her this evening at her home, but she was not there. Her mother had gone to sip coffee with one of her acquaintances, and that Helena is not with her, I am convinced. I fear I have been duped, cruelly duped, by both her and George." "Poor Maurits!" said Edward. "If it be true, you have my heartfelt sympathy. You, who have done so much for her, ought to have been better rewarded." "It was a dream, Edward, a beautiful dream. But I will put no faith in dreams hereafter." 3Q2 THE PLAY OF FATE "Possibly you are wrong." "No, no, I can't hope so much. Now, when I look back upon a number of circumstances which seemed to me of little consequence at the time, it is clear to me that George succeeded in exciting an absorbing passion for him in that young and thoughtless heart. He knew how, and has not hesitated to make use of it to the girl's ruin, the wretch!" 'You think, then, that she is with him now?" "Yes, I fear that he has lured her away." "What did I tell you? You put too much trust in him; you would not listen to my warnings." "True. I was a dunce," said Maurits woefully. "It was an illusion and, O, how terribly crushed! But, now, now, I shall not be so easily deceived again." "Don't be too sure, Maurits. You will be misled by many, and it is not improbable that you will be as badly duped again as you have been this time. " The two friends pressed closely to the wall of the house the better to conceal themselves. Two persons emerged from the door and passed down to the street. Both were, as were Maurits and Edward, closely wrapped in long cloaks. One, and the shorter one of the two, leaned upon the arm of the other. They hastened past the place where the two friends were concealed without observing them. "Edward," said Maurits, in a low voice, "did you see her?" "Whom? I saw only two persons in men's attire." "One of them was Helena, Edward. Her cloak col- lar was blown aside as she passed us, and I recog- nized her face. It is bitter to find that I have been so jockeyed when I meant so well." "Let us turn into the alley here, and get ahead of them," said Edward; "you may be wrong." THE TWO TEACHERS 393 "No, no, let us go home. I was not deceived. I am not making mistakes now." "Did you love the girl?" "No, but I was much interested in her. I enter- tained hopes of educating her up to something grand, for her talent is above the ordinary. I would have had her not only renowned, I was quite as desirous that she should be virtuous and pure; but George has upset all my calculations. O, that I had never brought the girl to his attention! How much better it would have been for her to have remained in her former con- dition, however wretched." 'You forget," interrupted Edward, "that even then she would, most likely, have fallen a prey to the lusts of mankind just as thousands of her sisters before her have fallen. Want and misery would soon have forced her into prostitution, and would that have been any better?" "You are right, and it is terrible. A feeling of op- pression comes over me when I think of the fate of those unfortunates, driven to a choice between the pangs cf hunger, or dishonor." "Yes," said Edward, "it gives the fatalist something upon which to erect theories that the world is ruled by blind chance, iron-handed necessity. If there is a merciful and generous Father, who has compassion on his children, who desires their success and happi- ness, say they, why does he allow so many to be born into a life of misery from which they may seek in vain to liberate themselves!" "The thought is terrible, Edward. I have struggled against this my whole life. As a child, I was on the point of becoming a fatalist. Love for my mother, and the memory of her alone rescued me. Since then, 394 THE PLAY OF FATfe I have had the good fortune to find the holy truth and that eternal righteousness and compassion without which man is driven like a rudderless wreck before the storm. I found it during the quiet years succeeding my boyhood and my mother's death, during which time I lived, it may be said, in a world of my own shap- ing; a world of dreams and illusions; a world of thought, but a world of action. And now, when I begin to act, when I return to the every-day world of mankind to seek the good and contribute to its devel- opment, I see myself so cruelly disappointed. I see the evil victorious, and that all our struggles, our honest endeavors are wasted. And again chance has set aglow the dying embers of doubt that I had tried to smother as the greatest misfortune accompanying me. " "My friend," said Edward, "men are ungrateful and bad, it is true, but that should not deter you from believing in a higher love that rules the world. We are not living in the world of the idealist, and we should not look for an immediate working out of the godly in the human. Evil exists, and there will always be instances when it will seem to conquer, but that gives us no right, however, to question the existence of a Providence whose living eye is upon us all and at all times. That were a superficial way of looking at things. True, history is often only an exposition of the human passions, but may we not even there discern a ruling hand, an all-seeing eye, a power be- yond and above mankind that humbles the haughty and exalts the submissive? And does not the mind predicate a future life, a life from which all injustice is blotted; where the spirits of the guilty stand dis- robed of the dazzling attire that dissembling or the THE TWO TEACHERS 395 prejudices of the world threw over them; where noth- ing longer hides their nakedness from an eye that cannot be deceived? Ought not this thought, this trust to be an abundant consolation to us when we are inclined to weep over our illusions, dispelled by our fellow men? I have always thought so, but it has been easier for me than for you. Your life has been stormier, the injustices and cares you have suffered deeper and more" painful. " "You are right," responded Maurits, "we ought to think so, I admit. Resignation, that calm that comes after the storm that crushed our frail craft called hope, is the haven in which we should seek shelter, I know, but can we always think so? Is not the spirit of man naturally weak and unstable? Can our courage and faith be sufficiently strong to sustain us always in our many and severe trials? And if crime leads to misfort- une, are there not many cases in which misfortune induces crime? " "Maurits, no victories are won without a struggle. Faith, the true, the real, presupposes investigation and doubt. There will always be, in the experience of every one, a period of inner strife, of distrust in Providence, of bitterness and hate toward mankind. But as the phoenix, rejuvenated, rises from her moth- er's funeral pyre, so shall truth, the daughter of doubt, upon her outstretched wings, soar up out of her mother's ashes. Let men say what they will, this is a victory that may be achieved by the spirit of man. To succumb in the struggle is weakness, it is not in- evitable. You have not yet fought your battle to a finish, Maurits. You have hardly begun. For you as for me, there remain, perhaps, yet some years of con- tinual inner struggle, in which, let us hope, we may not succumb." THE PLAY OF FATE Maurits did not answer beyond a silent pressure of the hand. They had now halted at the entrance to his place of residence. "Good night, Edward," said Maurits, "do not follow me, for I wish to be alone. I wish to think over what you have said." The two friends separated. "It is too late to rescue her," muttered Maurits to himself, as he paced his chamber restlessly back and forth, "but the dream, is it past? O, George, George! You rouse again the slumbering hate of my boyhood. How basely you have deceived both her and me. The poor girl! Brought by you to dishonor and despair!" Three weeks after these occurrences, Helena and her mother left Upsala without having again seen Maurits. George, having passed his examination, and being already tired of "the city of eternal youth," betook himself to Stockholm to enter the guards, the only place in the city he declared, suitable to him. By his influence, Helena, his mistress, secured a place as pupil in the royal theater, where her natural talent soon attracted attention and begot the hope that in her would be developed, ere long, an actress of the first rank. CHAPTER VIII THE DEBUTANTE One beautiful autumn day, at the hour of noon, a few months later, two elegantly clad young men met upon the promenade of Norrbro in Stockholm. "Good day, Caesar," said one. "Thanks for good company yesterday. Have you procured your ticket yet for the play to-morrow?" "No, is there anything new?" "What! Do you not know it? What the deuce do you do with your time! ' "I have made it a rule never to read the papers," said he who was addressed as Caesar. "They never fail to put me in a bad humor, wherefore I have not heard the theatrical announcements for to-morrow. I rarely know what piece is to be played before the day it is presented, when I send my servant after the play- bills. Let me hear, then, what there is new.' "A debutante, and a new piece." "Great guns! And what is the name of the debu- tante?" "It is George Ehrenstam's little Helena. Have you seen her?" "No, but I have heard George describe her often as a remarkable beauty. Who is she any way?" "She is said to be a peasant girl, whom George picked up a few years ago, and has had educated. Concerning her looks, I can assure you her beauty 397 398 THE PLAY OF FATE surpasses power of description. George, who is my friend, exhibits her with pardonable pride. Within a few weeks, you shall see that she has become one of Stockholm's greatest rages. Her talent for the stage is pronounced extraordinary, and it is said she is as great a singer as actress. " "Is she to make her debut in an opera then?" "No, it is a drama in four acts by a young and new author, whose name is still unknown." "What is the title of the piece?" "The Amber Heart." "What a queer conceit. How did the fellow ever hit upon that?" "An odd title, sure enough, but the play is said to indicate great genius, and to abound in piquant and affecting situations. My uncle, his excellency, informs me that he, with the director of the theater, Count X-- inspected the manuscript, and that they were much impressed with the originality of style and grouping. He predicts a brilliant success for the play. All this considered tells one that he should not miss it. I have been fortunate enough to secure a seat in Baron Ehrenstam's box in the first row. He is, as you know, closely related to my parents, " "You speak of the elder baron, of course?" "George's father, yes." "He is in the city, then?" "And his daughter also, a young beauty of seven- teen. He will be a lucky dog who wins her hand, for with her goes a half million as a portion, and, in addition, one of the most beautiful women to be seen in Stockholm. Something worth considering." "And this lady, so lavishly endowed, is she yet a prendre?" THE DEBUTANTE 39Q "I believe so. At least it is whispered that the baron has been making overtures to Count Stjerne- krantz, who owns the large estate, Odensvik, in Werm- land, but he, a very peculiar being and a misanthrope, has not yet declared himself. He is at present in the city, and is frequently seen in the company of the Ehrenstams. The girl, I am told, seems to entertain no very exalted opinion of him, however." "And you propose, naturally enough, to be the count's more fortunate rival?" said Caesar, laughing. "I have relinquished that hope, " answered the young elegant, "for the beautiful Isabella, a very romantic and well-read lady, has declared in unmistakable lan- guage, that she will not marry unless she finds a per- son who is the possessor of all the qualities of her ideal, and I, alas! have none of them." "She has enumerated these qualities, it would seem. " "Yes, he must be a genius, handsome, talented, and, above all, he must have a scientific education; for this young girl, instructed by a book-worm, a tutor of a philosophical turn, for whom she entertains the greatest esteem and admiration, has more knowledge of and love for the sciences than our Stockholm ladies, who are generally very superficial. You see then my suit is hopeless; for my uniform is not sufficient to dazzle the beautiful heiress. Moreover, she has already dared to inform me even that our uniforms are nothing else than a brilliant affliction." "Morbleu!" cried Caesar laughing, "she must be an amusing one, your heiress. It would be a pleasure to make her acquaintance." "Come into the box to morrow evening, and I will present you. But I must be off home now and dress 400 THE PLAY OF FATE myself, for I am to dine with the Ehrenstams." "There comes Baron George on a horse," said Cae- sar, pointing toward Gustav Adolf's Square. "He comes this way. Adieu, for the present. I'll go and get my tickets for the play." The two pedestrians separated, Caesar hurrying to the theater to secure a seat for the play the next even, ing, while the other elegant remained, awaiting the approach of George. "Good day, brother," said the latter, drawing in his horse. "Do you dine with my parents to-day?" "Yes, I am to have that honor. You are out for a ride, I see." "I am out to break in this colt. What do you think of my Othello?" "He is, indeed, a superb beast." "And a thoroughbred, also. Count Y offered me twelve hundred riks-dollars for him yesterday, but I declined it. He has fire in his veins, and is as fleet as an English hunter." "You are going to Regerings Street, I presume," said the other, smiling. "Why so? " "Oh, your beautiful Helena resides there. I want to say to you, George, that you must not be so jeal- ous of her hereafter as you have been. If she makes a hit of her debut, you must allow her to open her salon to your friends." "That I will, mon cher Alfred. After the play to- morrow, we are to sup with Helena if she makes a success of her debut, and I have little apprehension for her. I shall meet the most of my friends at the play to-morrow, I presume, when I will invite them." "Depend upon it, we will be there to do honor to THE DEBUTANTE 401 the heroine of the day. Do you know who wrote the play?" "No. It is said to be a young Upsala student who in this makes his bow to the public as a dramatist. He does not reveal his name. The play exhibits tal- ent, I understand. I have seen Helena's role, and, if I may judge, it possesses great poetic merit." "What is Helena's name in the play?" "The same as my sister's," said George. "Isabella, then?" "Yes." George bowed, put spurs to his horse and galloped away. We will follow him to Regerings Street, into which, as Alfred had rightly conjectured, he hurried, after galloping for a time back and forth through other streets. A splendid apartment in a large house in Regerings Street was, at present, the abiding place of the little girl from Svartsback Street in Upsala. Here abound- ed a luxury that surpasses description ; for George had spared neither pains nor money to make the young girl's life as agreeable as possible. The walls were adorned with paintings of well-known masters; Cu- pids supported consoles upon which were displayed costly vases; thick carpets covered the floor, and swelling silk-upholstered divans bade one rest. The farther room was the young girl's boudoir.. Here we find Helena, attired in a tasteful morning gown which half concealed half revealed the most ravishing form, reclining on a couch in a position fit to enchant the gods. Her long, chestnut-brown hair, still unfet- tered, floated around her neck and throat. The deli- cate head was resting on her marble white hands, and 402 THE PLAY OF FATE upon the fresh, rosy lips, played a smile of satisfac- tion, while the half closed eyes indicated a sweet trance, a dolce far nicnte. Helena, now eighteen years old, was in the full bloom of her beaut)-. She loved and was, or believed herself, loved in return. She saw herself surrounded by dazzling magnificence, and before her a path of triumph, of glorious success and fame. Every wish, though only half expressed, was instantly gratified. Everything designed to please the senses was laid at her feet. "This was bought with my virtue," a guilty con- science said, but daily with less frequency. Repent- ance, that pale and frightful guest, was forbidden the transgressor's boudoir, and if trouble sometimes gnawed at the roses on her cheeks, like the pollen in a luxurious calyx, it was at once scattered to the winds by Cupid's pleasantries. At this instant, in a half slumber, she was thinking of the coming day. She dreamed herself already over- whelmed with applause, and bombarded with bouquets. She saw all Stockholm prostrated at her feet, and, though she loved but George, she seemed to find no ob- jection to being admired and courted by others. She was in good luck and was enjoying it. Over the large eyes, that shone like the dark azure of the evening sky, the silk-fringed eyelids closed slowly until all was hidden. A sigh full of desire heaved the sumptuous, half concealed bosom, and the smile on her lips re- mained in her dreams. Helena slept lightly, but her slumber was sweet and calm. Laughing images floated before her inner eyes. The air was filled with the rich fragrance of fresh roses with which the numerous vases were abundantly supplied, and the odors of THE DEBUTANTE 403 costly perfumes floated around her couch, guarded not by an angel of innocence. The door opened, and George tiptoed quietly to the side of the couch on which the young songtress lay. It was, as we know, the hour of midday. The sun shone in through the window, and the red silk dra- peries were therefore half drawn. Through them, a magic sea of reddish light was shed over the young woman's charming figure. "Truly, she is beautiful," muttered George, contem- plating her. "None more so has ever dwelt in Stock- holm, or been loved by man, and she may thank me for all." Bending over, he kissed the slumbering beauty's lips. She started and awoke. "Is it you?" said she, winding her soft arms around his neck and drawing him to her breast. "Why did you disturb me, you bad boy?" "And what were you dreaming, my angel?" "I dreamed that the people in the theater applauded me, and showered me with flowers." "The dream shall be realized." "Do 5'ou think so?" "I am convinced of it." "But if I should be afraid, become stage frightened?" "You must know your role perfectly." "Yes, that I do. I have not rehearsed it over and over again for the mere pleasure. In the rehearsal, everything has gone off so nicely that the director has expressed the greatest satisfaction. But it is a very difficult role." "Oh, it will be all right. Do not borrow trouble. Many of my friends will be there, and we will en- courage you, depend upon it. But after the play, you 404 THE PLAY OF FATE must have an excellent supper prepared, for I intend to invite a number of my acquaintances who will be anxious to do homage to the queen of the day." "Ah, how agreeable that will be!" cried Helena, clapping her hands in joy. "You are a charming lover, George mine!" "Do you intend to go out to-day?" asked George. "I ought to call on my mother, who is not feeling very well, but that can be delayed until to-morrow, after the rehearsal. You are, therefore, welcome here this evening, and I will perform a scene or two for you from the play of the 'Amber Heart.' ' "No," said George, laughing, "I prefer to see it all at one sitting to-morrow. It is said to be very inter- esting. " "O, it is delightful!" exclaimed Helena. "I should like so much to make the acquaintance of the author. Many scenes are awful horrible but as a whole it is sublime. The language is exceptionally beautiful and poetic, yet a gloomy spirit pervades it all through." "All that will be interesting to see, my little Helena, but I must leave you now as we have a great dinner at our house to-day. I may possibly drop in this even- ing when our guests have departed. Until then, fare- well!" George kissed her, and went his way. In the afternoon, he returned to Helena, this time not on horseback, but with a carriage. His landau, drawn by two beautiful grays, drew up before the door, and George sprang out and entered. "Dress yourself and come with me, Helena, we will drive for a while. You can make your mother a short call on the way, after which we will go to some one of the suburban inns and sup. Have you any objec- ions?" THE DEBUTANTE 405 "None whatever. Wait a minute, I'll be ready soon. " It was middle September, and the air was mild and balmy. The young girl wrapped herself in a thin silk riding cloak only, put a hat on her head, and drew the veil over her face, thereupon took George's arm and hastened with him down the stairs. "Drive first to Westerlang Street, No. , " was George's command to the coachman, assisting his companion to a seat, and taking his place at her side. The coachman gave the horses a cut that sent them prancing on their way. Turning a street corner, the lordly equipage came near running down a raggedly clad being walking in the street. He escaped injury, but was spattered from head to foot with mud thrown far and wide by the rapidly revolving wheels. "Look before you, rascal!" shouted the coachman, and snapped his whip. "It is an outrage that these miserable beggars should be everlastingly in the way, " remarked George. "That was an ugly looking customer!" "Yes, horrible," answered Helena. "He looked like a bandit, such hideous red hair and beard. It would not be pleasant to meet him in a forest." The person who was the subject of these remarks was Jacob Kron, and they who rode in the carriage, his brother and, as the reader has already conjectured, his daughter. CHAPTER IX A FAMILY As it dashed past, Jacob was given an opportunity to cast a glance into the carriage. At sight of the young man so comfortably stretched out upon the soft cushions, showing no concern at having nearly run a fellow being down, Jacob halted, and a bitter smile played upon his lips. Hereupon, as if he had sud- denly recollected something, he smote his forehead with his hand, and broke forth: "That face, I seem to recognize it! Ha! where have I seen it before? It is he!" continued Jacob vehemently. "He resembles his brother in every way. I must know more about this youth." Turning hastily, he sprang after the carriage which had not yet passed from view. The street was narrow, and many people were going to and fro, wherefore George's coachman was obliged to drive at a walk. Thus Jacob was enabled in time to overtake the conveyance, which he followed, now running now walking, until it halted before one of the smaller house in Westerlangatan. Here both George and Helena alighted and entered the house. Jacob approached the driver and addressed him: "Listen to me, sir. Since you came so near to driv- ing over me a few minutes ago, you can do me the service to tell me what your master's name is." "How does tliat concern you?" said the coachman 406 A FAMILV 407 frowning. "Do you think of demanding compensation because I came near running you down, notwithstand- ing you were not injured?" "No," answered Jacob, "I assure you I have no such intention. It is for another reason w,holly that I ask." "Very well then," said the coachman, who was not an altogether heartless fellow, "if that is all you wish, I see no harm in serving you to that extent. My mas- ter is the young Baron Ehrenstam." ' So, ho! Does he reside in this house?" "No, he went in to visit the mother of the young _ady, his companion." "And the lady, who is she?" "Now, you are altogether too curious," was the curt reply. "What business have you with the gentleman and his lady?" "I will tell you," said Jacob. "Many years ago, a Baron Ehrenstam, the father of your master, I pre- sume, showed me great kindness. It is not a matter for wonder, therefore, that noting a great likeness, and believing I recognized a son of my benefactor, I should be somewhat inquisitive." "In order to again solicit charity, probably," said the coachman laughing. "But where does the young lady come in?" "Nowhere. I thought him married, perhaps, and that it was his wife driving with h'im." "Yes. Married with the left hand, old man, as all of our young gentlemen are. Mademoiselle Helena is not his wife, and it is not at all likely she ever will be. " "Is her name Helena!" exclaimed Jacob. 'Yes. And she is an actress of no mean ability, let me add." 408 THE PLAY OF KATE "An actress!" "Yes, and I am promised by the baron that I may go to-morrow night to hear her play. She is to ap pear in a great drama entitled 'The Amber Heart, ' the baron says." . "The Amber Heart!" ejaculated Jacob, drawing his hand across his forehead. At this instant George and Helena returned; Jacob stepped hastily aside, but not before he had caught a good view of the young woman's face, now no longer concealed by her veil. "Well, Helena," George was heard to say, "Ma- dame Johanna is in no danger, it seems to me." "No, my mother looked much better, I am pleased to say." The couple re-seated themselves in the landau. "To Djurgarden, " George commanded, and the car- riage rolled away. Jacob was left alone before the house in which Hel- ena's mother dwelt. For a long time he stood mo- tionless, his eyes fixed upon the ground, apparently deeply engaged with his thoughts. "Johanna! Helena! " muttered he. "Again I hear these names, names carried in my mind so many years connecting mother and daughter. How strange! And at the same time 'The Amber Heart,' a play to be presented to-morrow. But how does that concern me? There are many Johannas, and many Helenas, also many amber hearts, in the world. And yet, when I caught a glimpse of her face, what a marvelous feeling came over me! Think, it it were the voice of kinship. If this girl be my daughter, she whose lover bears the same name as my wife's seducer, then is the meas- ure heaped to overflowing. The last link is forged o t: a o si ^*? .s- A FAMILY 409 in the chain of misfortune with which cruel fate has pursued me. But no, I rave! Instinct may deceive me. "During these many years of roaming over the world, and even while the occupant of a narrow prison cell, I have dreamed of my daughter, of my little Helena. I have fancied her a little child, half frozen, wander- ing the streets asking alms, and with the thought my heart has bled a heart otherwise calloused by misery and crime and I have redoubled my exertions, renewed my search with augmented eagerness. The hope that I might find her pure and innocent has been the one star that has lighted my weary footsteps. O, how many times in my dreams have I not stretched forth my arms as if I had found her, as if I might press her to my breast ! Fate has been cruel to me. I have asked only this favor, to find my daughter, and to spend the remaining few years of my life with her. My hair has grown gray, and my prayer has not been heard. But now a feeling possesses me that I have found her. Woe is me if it be so, for with finding her, I have lost her forever. I must have light in this darkness. It is too late to-day, however. In the morning I will learn my fate, and if my presentiment prove true, woe to the seducer of his kin, my kin! The revenge so long suspended shall crush them, and the hand that slew my wife's seducer is yet strong enough to fell the betrayer of my daughter." Jacob inspected the house number carefully for the purpose of impressing it indelibly upon his mind, and with measured step, departed on his weary way. It was the day following these occurrences. The pleasant September sun was shining cheerily through the windows of Madame Anderson's room in We^terlang 4-IO THE PLAY OF FATE Street. The room was large and light, also very com- fortably though simply furnished. Johanna, for so we will call her, had recently suffered a return of her old evil, the ague. She was now con- valescing, however, and sat beside the fireplace, in which she had built a fire, warming her feet. Accustomed now to comforts, and no longer com- pelled to work, she had become fleshy and phlegmatic. She was in the habit also, the neighbors under the same roof declared, of taking a drop too much at times. This, however, Helena was not aware of, for her mother entertained too much respect for her mag- nificent daughter, not to conceal the bottle when a visit was looked for. Johanna still lived in the belief that George was no more to Helena than her benefactor. The thought that he was or might be her lover, she banished from her with abhorrence, tor, though her senses had been much blunted of late by prosperity and indulgence, her own experiences told her that for the fallen wo- man there is no longer such a thing as real felicity. She was happy in her belief, and Helena was careful to encourage it. Moreover, she was proud of her daughter, and though lately the intervals between her visits had grown longer, she was not disposed to corn- pain of her seeming lack of attention. "She has, of course, a great deal to do," thought she, "in prepara- tion for her part in the play in which she is to ap- pear. " We have said that Johanna was sitting before the fireplace. In this position, her back was toward the door. She did not observe it quietly open, nor the en- trance of a visitor. Jacob, for it was he, stood motionless and fixed his A FAMILY 411 gaze upon the woman before him. But in this fat, coarse figure he did not readily recognize his former pretty and slender wife. Yet he would not depart without seeing her face. He therefore coughed lightly to attract her attention. Johanna started and turned around. Though time had furrowed his countenance, she rec- ognized him instantly and, with hands outstretched before her, she uttered a shriek of alarm and horror. "It is she," said Jacob to himself, staggering and leaning against the wall for support. "O, my sus- picions! I was not deceived then." "Jacob, is it you or your ghost!" cried Johanna, half dead from fright. "Woman!" said Jacob in a hollow voice, "I am come to claim my child, my daughter, for whom my heart has longed these many years. What have you done with her?" "You are alive then, Jacob; I thought you dead long ago. " "Better for you, perhaps, were it so," continued Jacob in the same tones. "But I am alive, as you see." "I understand. You are poor and, having learned of my good fortune, have come to share in my abund- ance. " Jacob's lips curled scornfully. "I am come to demand my child, I have told you. Where is she?" "Your child lives, and neither you nor I need blush for her. Besides, it seems to me you have little right to make such a demand, having left us so many years to our fate. It is I who have had to labor and toil for her. and. bv everything that is right, she belongs to me. 412 THE PLAY OF FATE "You, yes, she belongs to you," said Jacob bitterly. "You, who first violated your marriage vows in the arms of one brother, then sold our child to the other. Truly, a most loving mother. You have filled your calling well; you have a right to be proud of it." "Jacob! What in God's name do you mean!" "Don't be so innocent, you understand me well enough. But tell me first, can you, by your hope of salvation, declare that Helena is my daughter, and not his, the villain for whom you deserted me?" "I can, Jacob," said Johanna earnestly. "I can swear it before my Maker. Helena was born four months after you left the village where we resided, and my acquaintance with Ehrenstam had then extended over only a few months. Helena is your daughter, I swear it!" "So much the worse." "How so much the worse? You said just now that you have yearned for her all these years." "Yes, I have longed to see my daughter, but I have hoped to find her pure and innocent, if also poor. And how do I find her?" "How!" exclaimed the mother; "Jacob, you have found her rich and happy! You have found her beau- tiful, and as good as one of God's angels. We have suffered much, Jacob; we have starved and frozen, but God has finally rescued us. It is a wonderful dis- pensation. It is God's finger, that a brother of him who seduced me into sin which I have so deeply re- pented and wept over, has become my daughter's benefactor." "Benefactor! ;> interrupted Jacob scornfully. "He has then turned good genius, the young Baron Ehrenstam, whom I saw yesterday enter this house accompanied by a young lady." A FAMILY 413 "Yes," interrupted Johanna, with motherly pride. "The young lady you -saw yesterday is your daughter. Is she not beautiful?" "Yes, very beautiful," responded Jacob with a bitter smile, "unfortunately so for her." "And she is accomplished. She can play and she sings like a little angel. For all this, we have to thank Baron Ehrenstam, who, without knowing us, upon the recommendation of a young Mr. Sterner, whose rooms I took care of at Upsala, undertook her education." "That name again!" cried Jacob. "Sterner." "And his given name. Do you know what it is?" "Yes, I believe it is Maurits. " "The play of fate! " muttered Jacob, and, without further remark, his head sank upon his breast. "Helena was a little fourteen-year old girl then," continued Johanna. "She had been to school some, however, and had learned a great deal a few ) T ears be- fore. For it was as if fate had determined she should amount to something. First it was an old gentleman in Stockholm who took her up, charmed by her beau- tiful voice, heard one day while singing in the streets. But when the old gentleman died, his heirs drove her away, whereupon she was compelled to return to me, a poor creature descended to a common house drudge. Later, we moved to Upsala, where we were reduced to the most straitened circumstances, when Baron Ehrenstam, God bless him, chanced to see her in Mr. Sterner's room where she was singing for him and some other gentlemen, took pity on her, and prom- ised to help her perfect herself for the stage, a profes- sion she had always longed to adopt. Since then, we have known no want or care, thanks to the baron's 414 THE PLAY OF FATE generosity that would allow us to want for nothing." "Woman!" cried Jacob fiercely, "you have sold your daughter and you bless her debaucher. " "Sold! Debaucher!" repeated Johanna in dismay. "No, Jacob, it is not true. My Helena is innocent." "Simpleton! Can you imagine that a young man of rank and wealth would do all this that you have told me for a poor beggar girl, without asking seme return? Can you be so stupid? You who have your- self had an experience with a member of the family?" "O, Jacob, your words are terrible! Take them back. Say that you may be wrong. My Helena can- not be guilty. No, no, I cannot believe it. It would be too horrible!" Jacob cast a searching glance at his wife. "Is this dissimulation?" thought he, "or can it be possible that this woman is so lack-brained, so blind, that she can be hoodwinked into imagining that this baron is not something else than a good Samaritan. If it were so, I could pity her, notwithstanding all the suffering she has caused me by her crime of old." "Jacob, Jacob!" resumed the poor woman, wringing her hands, "you are silent, you do not answer me. O, say that Helena has not fallen! I cannot, I will not believe it! My God! Better had it been that we re- mained in our obscurity, our poverty, even though we had died of hunger." "How long is it since you became so conscientious, my faithful spouse?" said Jacob, laughing scornfully. "In days gone by ; when you allowed the brother of your daughter's lover to caress you, you were not so scru- pulous. " "Jacob, you crush me!" wailed Johanna, hiding her face in her hands. "There is no charitableness in you. A FAMILY 415 Are you yourself so spotless, hard man? Your face, so pale and haggard, is it want alone that has made such show of ravage there? Are not the furrows on your forehead the index of crime? And you come here to upbraid me, me, who have suffered so cruelly since you left me to my fate. You are feelingless, feeling- Jess as a stone, Jacob." "I have not come to upbraid you for your former sin against me, I have forgiven you that. You ask, have I been a criminal. That question has nothing to do with the matter in hand. I have never sinned against you. In my youth, I loved you above all else on earth, and you deceived me. But, perhaps, you consider it a crime that I surprised you in the arms of another. If so, bear in mind that I spared your life, for you bared your breast and bade me thrust." "I have never complained because of your leaving me, Jacob. I deserved nothing better". But I have felt myself enough punished for my crime, and have allowed myself to believe that time would moderate your anger, and now you come to demand an account of your daughter, about whom you have not concerned yourself these many years until the present. When I inform you that our daughter lives and is prosperous, you answer me, she lives upon her shame." The wretched woman hid her face and wept. Jacob contemplated her in silence. "You asked me," continued Johanna after a time, "how long I have been so conscientious that I would look upon my daughter's fall as a misfortune. O, Jacob, my own sufferings, my own bitter experiences, have taught me that there can be no more pitiable unfortunate than the sinner. I have, therefore, always prayed to God to keep Helena pure and innocent. I 416 THE PLAY OF FATE have had no cause for doubting her virtue. I do not question it now, notwithstanding your suspicions to the contrary." "Very well, nurse your trust and get what comfort out of it you may, deceived deceiver," said Jacob scornfully. "But woe to him, the villain, that has plucked the blossom which I, the refugee, the pariah, have so long expected to find in my child, the only thing I have dared to hope fate would leave me. Woe to him and his accursed family! I will pursue them with my vengeance so long as there is a member left!" Jacob's features had assumed an expression of ter- rible malignity. The red, ill-kept beard, the deep sunken eyes in which the flame of hate was seen to burn, the bristly, uncombed hair, already sprinkled with gray, more from sorrow than by age, all this gave the unhappy man a horrible aspect "Jacob, Jacob!" cried Johanna in terror, "think what you would do, and act with deliberation. Ought you, upon a mere suspicion, to feel yourself justified in pursuing with your vengeance the one who has made your daughter all she is?" "Yes, just because he has made her what she is," interrupted Jacob with a gloomy frown. "Just be- cause of that I will follow him. Johanna, I will be- lieve that you are deceived; that the scoundrel feigned the most honorable motives in his interest, and that you were blind enough to confide in him. But he shall not pull the wool over my eyes. I assure you, 1 will exact from him a terrible reckoning. He may tremble at the fate of his half-brother." "Great God!" shrieked Johanna. "It was you then, who murdered him, Jacob! I have suspected as much." "Hush, woman*" roared the beggar, stamping his A FAMILY 417 foot upon the floor. Do not again allow a word of such a suspicion to escape your lips. Otherwise, I may be tempted to seal them forever." At this instant, light footsteps were heard on the stairs. The door opened, and Helena, beaming with youth and beauty, tripped into the room. The young girl did not at once observe the beggar, who had drawn himself back into a corner, but with- out looking around hastened forward to her mother, now standing motionless in the middle of the floor. "Good morning, dear mother!" exclaimed she care- lessly. "I would not drive by without running up to see how you are getting along to-day. You are bet- ter, I observe, and I will, therefore, leave you at once. I am in a hurry, you must know, for I am on my way to the opera house to rehearsal. To-night decides my fate as an actress. But, great heavens! Mother, you do not answer. You seem disturbed and look at me in such a strange manner. What ails you?" The mother did not respond. Helena cast a hasty glance around the room, and for the first time, her eyes fell upon the ragged being leaning against the wall. The glance of father and daughter met for an in- stant. Jacob pressed his hand against his beating heart, while a light cloud of displeasure flitted across Helena's white forehead.' "Do you receive beggars here, mother?" inquired Helena. "What does this man wish?" No one answered. The parents stood speechless, one on each side of their daughter, who might have brought about a reunion but for Upon a spectator who knew what the lot of these three persons, now so wonderfully brought together, 41 8 THE PLAY OF FATE had been, this silent scene would have made a deep and lasting impression. On the one side the woman, usually so dull and phleg- matic, now a prey to the keenest emotions, called out by the bitter utterances of her husband; to the deepest contrition caused by the misgivings about her idolized daughter; for who. can question that even the children of nature, the raw, the untutored, feel deeply and keenly deeper and keener, maybe, than the educated . men and women of the world a father's or mother's wound of the heart. On the other side, the father, clad in the garb of a beggar, he who had cherished so long the hope that he might some day press his child, pure and undefiled, to his bosom, and in whose breast the most conflicting feelings were struggling, feelings of tenderness, of sorrow, of scorn, upon finding her now in the full bloom of youth and beauty, but know- ing that the pomp and splendor that surrounded her were bought at the cost of her virtue; and, finally, between the two, the young and charming girl, upon whose face one could read only astonishment, mixed with a slight disquietude, at sight of her unknown father's almost repulsive figure and brutal countenance; all this together formed a family picture of the most peculiar and unusual character. Helena was the first to break the silence. "Mother," said she, "you do not answer me. What am I to understand? Who is this man?" "Helena! " cried the mother with broken voice, "he is " But Jacob made a sign of disapproval. The mother was silent again. "He came, I suppose, to ask alms," said Helena, still in wonder, "and you have nothing to give him, A FAMILY 419 maybe. See here, I will give it for you," thereupon taking from her purse a small silver coin which she proffered the supposed beggar. The blood mounted to Jacob's pale cheeks! Violent passions raged within his breast, but he remained silent, and pushed his daughter's hand from him. At this instant, the door was opened abruptly, and George Ehrenstam entered. "What an outrageous long wait you are giving me, Helena!" said he. "Come now, for the horses will not stand, and, besides, you must not be late at the rehearsal. Ah," added he, with an ironic smile, upon observing the coin in the girl's hand, "you are about to perform an act of charity, I see. How did this ragamuffin come here?" "An extraordinary beggar," said Helena, taking George's arm, "for he will not accept the alms I have offered him. But come, George." "But," added she in a whisper, "ought we to leave my mother here alone with that man? He looks like a band-it. " "Get out of this!" said George addressing Jacob. There is the door, do you see it?" Jacob remained silent, but scanned the young man with a glance in which such an implacable hate, such a deadly malice, burned that George involuntarily drew back in confusion. Recovering himself quickly, he continued: "Did you hear? Go at once that I may escape defil- ing myself with your rags, as will be necessary if I must throw you out." "Hold, hold, baron! " cried Johanna. "Let him re- main. Do not touch him, he is " "Who is he?" asked George, as Johanna ceased. Jacob again made a sign of caution. 42O THE PLAY OF FATE "Do not mind," continued Johanna, "he is an ac- quaintance of my childhood. He has been unfortunate, and is poor, but I will not despise him for that. Do not disturb him." "As you please," said George. "Come, Helena." Opening the door, he departed, accompanied by the young girl who, with a hasty bow, took leave of her mother. "Well," said Jacob, when the carriage had gone, "do you not mark the familiarity which they make no attempt to conceal from you? And yet you believe in your daughter's innocence!" "Oh! no! My eyes have been opened," broke in the unhappy woman, hiding her face in her hands, and sinking exhausted with emotion upon the bed. Jacob cast another glance at his wife, opened the door and departed. CHAPTER X THE PLAY The elegant equipages of the aristocracy of Stock- holm rolled, in greater numbers than usual, over Gus- tav Adolf's place to the opera house. In a few min- utes, every box, every chair, even to the last in the amphitheater, was filled with a motley gathering. Not for many a day had the house been so crowded as now. A full seated theater is a world in miniature. The social stairs from the first to the fifth flight is there clearly and sharply defined, the only difference being that in the theater the mob occupies the most elevated position while riches and rank content themselves with the lower steps. The house, as we have said, was full, when a young man wrapped in a light cloak entered the lower am- phitheater, pushed his way through the throng, and took a seat in the middle of the first row of seats in the neighborhood of the orchestra. This young man was the personage in chief of our narrative, Maurits Sterner, author of the piece about to be played. No one in the vast gathering knew this, however. Maurits had arrived in the city during the forenoon. He had come to see the piece performed, and what wonder if the young author's heart beat uneasily as he waited for the curtain to be rung up. Having had no opportunity to get a program, he did not yet know by 421 422 THE PLAY OF FATE whom the characters were to be represented. He had heard only that a young actress was to make her debut in the principal role, but as Helena had assumed an- other name since she had entered the theater, Maurits did not dream of seeing his former pupil in the piece. Turning to his neighbor on his right, a thick set, jolly looking little gentleman, he asked permission to look at his program. "With pleasure," answered the person addressed, handing the program to Maurits, "you may retain it for the evening. I learned it before coming, so do not require it." Maurits perused the paper. "I recognize, by their names, all the persons who are to appear in the play," said he, "except Mademoi- selle Roos. Who is she?" 'O, that is the debutante," answered the little man. "You are not a resident of Stockholm, I observe, otherwise you must have heard the talk of the whole city." "No," answered -Maurits, "I am from Upsala, and arrived in the capital only a few hours ago. That it is Mademoiselle Roos who is to make her debut, I knew before, but who is Mademoiselle Roos, where is she from, and how does she play? As you are a res- ident of the city, you can perhaps enlighten me on these points."' "Ah, who can tell where all these artists come from! Actresses and actors grow up like mushrooms from the ground, their origin unknown to any one." "Is her name Helena!" interrupted Maurits eagerly. "Yes. And if you would know more about her, ask the young gentleman sitting yonder in the first row of the fifth box that handsome young man in the uniform of the guards, do you see him?" THE PLAY 423 Maurits' eyes followed the direction indicated by his neighbor. As if he had been enchanted, they were fixed upon the person pointed out. The blood rushed swiftly to his cheeks, and a thousand emotions surged through him at the sight that met his gaze. In the box were five persons. In front sat the elder Baron Ehrenstam at the side of his lad}'. Back of him George, with a young lady whose features Maurits was unable to distinguish perfectly, half hidden as they were by a large hat from which a veil fell over her fore- head and eyes. Back of the young lady stood a young, elegantly attired gentleman who frequently leaned for- ward and addressed her in low tones. Maurits seemed to know that this was Isabella Ehrenstam, she whom he had rescued in his boyhood from drowning, and the heroine of his play. Busy with the earlier recollections that the sight of this family awoke in his breast, Maurits forgot wholly the object that had first caught his attention. The elder Baron Ehrenstam had aged considerably since Maurits saw him last, one of the hunting party in the forest. His locks had grown gray, but the same hard lines were still clearly defined around his lips; the same unyielding iron will was still stamped upon that high cold forehead. His wife was noticea- bly fleshier, and her face had assumed an expression of dullness, such as an aimless and indolent life ac- companied by luxury seldom fails to produce. She now bore the appearance of a matron of forty or there- about. Maurits was aroused from his dream by his little neighbor pulling lightly at his coat. "I see by your expression that you are anxious to know more about the occupants of that box." 424 THE PLAY OF FATE "No," said Maurits absently, "they are not strangers to me." "Well, then, you ought to know, if so be, that the young Baron Ehrenstam is keeping the little Helena, and it is understood he has educated her for the stage. She is said to have been a peasant girl whom the baron met while residing at Upsala." "It is then my former pupil who is to play the part of Isabella," said Maurits to himself. "My God! How strange!" What would Maurits have said had he known that Helena was the daughter of the man whose fate had given him the theme upon which the play was founded? But he did not know it yet, and his thoughts soon drifted from the debutante to the half veiled lady in the box who had at first attracted his attention, and whom he believed to be Isabella. He turned again to his neighbor. "Can you tell me who the young lady sitting with Baron Ehrenstam is? It is an outrage that one can- not be allowed to see her face." "That is the baron's daughter, and one of the weal- thiest heiresses in Sweden. " "Are you acquainted with the family?" "I have had business with the baron, and know something about his family, therefore. And let me add, the girl is the only one of them that I like at all. She is gentle and good, while the others are vain, haughty and heartless." ' : Is she betrothed?" asked Maurits. "No. Her father wishes her to marry the gentleman sitting alone there in the third box and first row ob- liquely across from the baron's. Do you see him?" Maurits looked up, and saw his brother. THE tLAY 425 Count Eberhard sat alone. His dark countenance, not once lighted up by a smile, was white and care- worn; his eyes lay deep in their sockets, and upon his forehead suffering and excesses had plowed their many furrows. Though it was only the beginning of autumn, he was wrapped in a costly sable mantle. He had folded his arms across his breast, and, sunk in deep thought, he seemed dead to the thousand voices that hummed around him. "That young man," resumed the obliging neighbor, "is "I know who he is," interrupted Maurits, "it is Count Stjernekrantz." "You seem to know all Stockholm, my young friend," said the little man; "but, pardon the question, are you not related to the count, perhaps?" "No; why do you ask?" "You resemble him strikingly. The same forehead, the same eyes, the same nose, with just this difference, you look younger and less worn out." "O, such freaks of nature are not uncommon," said Maurits. His neighbor made no further remark, and Maurits took his opera glasses, and began to scan the audience. The royal box was still unoccupied. It was known that the Crown Prince, with his spouse, was expected, and therefore the lifting of the curtain, and beginning of the play, was delayed awaiting their coming. Maurits' eyes wandered around even to the topmost row of seats. Presently he started. In a corner of the fifth gallery, he discovered a face whose features were too deeply engraved upon his mind for him ever to forget it. It was that of Jacob Kron, the beggar, the bandit, the fratricide. When his glance fell from 426 THE PLAY OF FATE this repugnant object, it rested upon the elegant com- pany in Baron Ehrenstam's box. "Father here! Son here! " thought Maurits. "Let God judge between them." At this point, the doors of the royal box were thrown open, and the young and much loved Crown Prince entered with his spouse at his side. The whole house rose, and saluted respectfully. The curtain flew up at once, and the play began. Maurits turned his eyes to the stage to see his own thoughts appear personified. It will not be demanded that we reproduce the play here in its entirety. The material from which it was 'constructed was taken in part from his own life and partly from Jacob's story. A great deal of the intrigue was imaginary, however. The first acts were designed to portray the wonderful play of fate, but demonstrat- ing, also, that there is a providence always directing- for the best. Many touching scenes which transpired at long intervals from each other, and in different regions, were introduced. The hero of play the was a young man who, through his own and the unhappy fate of the mistress of his heart, Isabella Helena is tempted to abandon faith in a higher power, and to give himself up to the gloomy and irreconcilable teachings of the fatalist. The struggle in his breast that came from above, from heaven, and the evil de- mons that came from the earth below, Maurits had depicted with surprising fidelity, with an appalling truth; and this was possible to him, for he had lived through the struggle. The evil genius of the play, as Maurits had conceived it, the author of all the misfortunes of the lovers, was a character very much resembling Baron Ehrenstam, and there were presented, THE PLAY 427 also, a number of incidents from the baron's past life; as for instance, that when he snatched the amber heart from the hand of his son and ejected him from his magnificent mansion, also that where the son later, despair and revenge raging in his heart, laid in am- bush for his father and nearly killed him. Thus Baron Ehrenstam, seated in his comfortable box, saw pictures from his own past spread before him, and for the first time in his life, he paled and trembled with horror. Helena, upon her entrance, was received with storms of applause, and a shower of bouquets from George and his friends. This homage embarrassed her somewhat at first, but she soon recovered herself, and executed her role with a power that fairly transported the spec- tators. She was pathetic in her grief, and sublime in her anguish and despair. There were not a few scenes in which there was not a dry eye in the house. There were dialogues in which the language soared into the realms of sublimity, poetical, yet free from exaggeration and excess of pathos. The continually increasing shouts of applause, and the hand-clapping, was acknowledgment that the author as well as the debutante had made a brilliant success. There were only three persons in the house who followed the play word for word, watched every new conception with the most eager attention, but with- out utterance either in approbation or disapproval, almost without a sign that betokened their agitation of mind. These three were the elder Baron Ehren- stam, Maurits and Jacob. We need, not tell the reader why these three persons, one in the ampthitheater, the other in the first, and the third in the fifth gallery, silent and unmoved, kept their eyes so intently fixed upon every scene. One was the author, the others 428 THE PLAY OFFATE characters in the drama, though their roles were played by others. Midst roars of applause, the curtain fell on the first act. Maurits drew a deep breath, and again scanned the audience. N early every woman was drying her eyes. What a harvest of diamonds for the young au- thor. His heart swelled with a pardonable pride. "This assemblage," thought he, "so brilliant, so splendid, among whom there is hardly one who does not feel that the poor student is a being to be looked down upon, to be spurned this gathering of Stock- holm's most illustrious and talented is now swayed by my spirit. It is I, insignificant I, who have touched the chords to their finer feelings, luring tears to their eyes, or tempting smiles to their lips. It is the power of genius, the genius that the moneyed and born aris- tocracy feels it may deride in the theater of the world, to which they are made to bow in this. The simple- tons! As if their miserable gold, or their fragile coat of arms, possessed the power to awake a single thought, such as descend from the heavens to the brain of man in the holy moments of inspiration." "By my soul!" said the little man on the right, "that piece is well written. If the coming acts are like the first, there are few, if any, dramatic productions in our language that can compare with it." Maurits remained silent. "You do not answer, " continued the speaker. "What is your opinion?" "I will tell you when it is finished." "It seems to me, however," resumed the little man, "that the author has overdone the thing somewhat. Such a heartless and unyielding egoism as is repre- sented in that baron, can hardly exist elsewhere than in fancy." THE PLAY 429 "Do you think so?" said Maurits, fixing his eyes upon Baron Ehrenstam's box. Pale as a ghost, silent and motionless, his gaze fixed upon the fallen curtain, sat the baron, while the other occupants of the box kept up a lively conversation, apparently comparing notes on the play. Maurits grasped in an instant the current of thought that was flooding the baron's mind. "I am revenged!" muttered the young author to him- self. "For the first time in his life, the voice of con- science speaks in threatening tones within him. At this instant he believes himself the object of a thou- sand eyes whose glances are all directed toward him alone. Public opinion condemns him, has long con- demned him, but only in silence. He sees himself now for the first time judged by the world, and he shudders at his own picture. It is good. 1 did a capital thing when I wrote this play." Maurits still endeavored to see Isabella's face, but in vain. It was turned, for the most part, toward some courtly gentleman who had just entered the box, and joined in the conversation. The hum of the thousand voices was now hushed by the ringing strains of music from the orchestra execut- ing an overture from one of the most popular operas of the day, and the lovers of music lent their ears to catch the charming tones. The music ceased, and the curtain was again run up. We will not attempt to follow the play step by step. We will only observe that it possessed a merit lacking in most dramas, namely, from beginning to end the interest was unflagging, which was recognized in every act by the applause accorded it. Between the fourth and fifth acts, Maurits' new ac- 43 THE PLAY OF FATE quaintance, leaning over, whispered in his ear: "Do you know, sir, that the author of this remarkable play is believed to be among us? Everybody wishes to know who he is, and we have agreed here in the am- phitheater to call him out at its conclusion together with the beautiful debutante. It is hoped he can be induced to appear on the'stage to receive the public approbation." "Do you think it would be proper?" asked Maurits. "Why not if the public wishes it? In foreign thea- ters, it is quite the thing." "You think then ?" "I think the author, if he is here, need not be back- ward about accepting the thanks of the public. The public will call him theirs for the pleasure this beau- tiful play has given them. The man in good fortune need not hide himself under a pseudonym that sooner or later must be penetrated." "You are no doubt right, sir." The rise of the curtain for the last act interrupted the conversation. The silence of the grave prevailed throughout the house, while the spectators, with the utmost attention and interest, followed every word, every gesture of the actors. There remained now only one scene, the most beautiful and touching of all, the reconciliation. Maurits rose from his seat and, to the great surprise of the surrounding spectators who openly manifested their disapproval, disappeared from the amphitheater, and made his way toward the stage. He found the door opening into the rear of the scenes open, and mounting the stairs, he was soon among the wings. "Whom are you seeking, sir?" sharply asked an actor met there. THE PLAY 431 "No one," answered Maurits artlessly, "but as I am the author of the play just presented, I have come to thank you and your companions for the faithfulness with which you have represented my characters. With- out your talent, my play must surely have failed." "No, no, sir! On the contrary, your genius inspired us. I am deeply pleased to have met a young author who has made such a happy hit. Allow me to present my comrades. Your name; please. " Maurits gave his name. Soon a number of actors had gathered around the 3'oung author, loading him with compliments. Helena was still on the 'stage, wherefore an opportunity to speak with her was not presented. During the conversation between Maurits and his new found friends, carried on in an undertone, of course, in order not to interfere with the progress of the play, the curtain fell amidst thunders of applause which it seemed would never cease. Soon loud shouts were raised: "The author! Mad- emoiselle Roos!" The former seemingly the louder, for it rang from every corner of the house, while Helena's name was heard from a comparatively small number of voices. Maurits looked around for the young debutante, but she had disappeared among the scenes on the opposite side. The shouts continued with augmented volume, ac- companied by stamping of feet, hand-clapping, pound- ing of canes and umbrellas, while above all rang the cry, "The author! Mademoiselle Roos!" "They are calling you," said the actor who had first addressed Maurits. "The public is anxious to know you, and I do not wonder." 43 2 THE PLAY OF FATE "What shall I do," asked Maurits. "What shall you do! What else but go in and make your bow at least. " "Very well. Let the curtain be raised." The actor gave a signal, and the curtain sprang aloft. Maurits threw off his cloak and stepped for- ward on to the stage from one side at the same instant that Helena entered from the other. Their eyes met. Blushes and a deathlike pallor passed by turns over the face of the young girl at such an unexpected meet- ing. She staggered, and was compelled to seek the support of a table that by chance had been left on the stage. There was noticeable in Maurits' glance an ex- pression of sorrowful earnestness and mild reproach, and it struck deep into the soul of the actress, destroy- ing wholly the sweets of her evening's triumph. The shouts of applause and the hand-clapping were lost on her ears. The mat of flowers strewn around her by the young cavaliers in the boxes and the occupants of the amphitheater was unseen; there was in this moment of triumph only a single feeling, shame. Maurits heard and saw all that was transpiring before him, however. He observed that the ladies waved their handkerchiefs more at him, and that the shower of bouquets was directed more at him than at the beaytiful actress, and his young heart swelled with pride. Who of you, my readers, will blame him there- for? Suddenly there came from one of the audience, "The author's name!" taken up by a thousand voices. "Your name! What is your name?" came from all sides. Maurits made a signal with his hand, and instantly all was quiet, all listened with eager attention. "Ladies and gentlemen," said the young author in THE PLAY 433 a voice trembling with emotion, "though feeling that I little merit this mark of your approval,! am disposed not to deny myself the pleasure your commendation gives me and to avail myself, also, of the opportunity to tender you my heartfelt thanks. My name is Mau- rits Sterner,and my occupation I really have no other than with my books." The curtain fell amidst renewed applause, but not too quickly for Maurits to have noticed how Count Eberhard, at other times so cold and indifferent, sprang from his seat and fixed his troubled gaze upon the speaker, also to see him fall back into his seat and draw his hand across his forehead. When Maurits looked around him after the curtain had fallen, Helena was lying in a swoon on the floor. "My God? The j-oung debutante has fainted," cried actors and actresses in one voice, almost falling over each other in their eagerness to be of some service "Take her into her dressing-room! Poor child, she was unable to bear such great prosperity." Maurits smiled. He alone knew it was not her success that had caused her fainting. During the commotion, he threw his cloak over his shoulders and was about to depart. At the door, he was met by one of the Crown Prince's chamberlains. "Are you the author of this play, sir?" Maurits answered in the affirmative. "Follow me to the royal box. His highness wishes to speak with you." With beating heart, Maurits accompanied his con- ductor through the corridors and a crowd of people, all of whom were eyeing him curiously. As he was about to enter the first row of boxes, he came upon George piloting two ladies, one on each arm, through 434 THE PLAY OF FATE the throng. The young men exchanged glances. George seemed embarrassed, but collecting himself almost immediately, he addressed Maurits in a low voice. "Ah, Maurits, allow me to present you to 'Some other time," interrupted Maurits curtly, "I must to the Crown Prince now," and hastened along. The chamberlain opened the door to the royal box and with a wave of the hand bade Maurits enter. "Your royal highness, I bring with me the young author," announced the chamberlain, whereupon Mau- rits bowed low to the royal pair. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance," said the prince graciously. "Your excellent play has afforded us a great ethical treat. Your talent surprises me all the more, finding you so young. How old are you? ' "Twenty-three, your highness." "And you have studied?" "At Upsala." "What course?" "The philosophical. I took the degree of A. M. last year. " "You are poor?" i: Yes, your highness. I have had to battle my way through many difficulties. My childhood was passed in a peasant hut, and your highness may know, then, that I was not rocked in the cradle of luxury, as it is termed." "So much more creditable to you," said the Crown Princess in her mild and pleasing manner. "So much more creditable to have lifted yourself from such a humble station." Hereupon her highness extended her hand for .Mag- rits to kiss. THF PI.AY 435 With almost religious veneration, cultivated from his childhood, for the royal lady's virtues and worthy characteristics, Maurits conveyed the hand of the prin- cess to his lips. "Sir," resumed his highness, "it is the duty of a prince to encourage genuis. I am anxious to assist you in some manner, for you merit it. What can I do for you?" "The success I have achieved this evening, your highness," answered Maurits bowing, "has certainly placed me beyond immediate want. I have no other desire therefore, than that I may enjoy the good graces and favor of your highness." "A remarkable unselfishness," said the Crown Prince, contemplating the young man searchingly. "Never- theless, you have my permission to come to me should you ever require aid ; and now, farewell. " Maurits bowed again, stammered his thanks, and made way for the prince and his consort to retire from the box. Upon reaching the vestibule of the opera house Maurits was surrounded by a crowd of acquaintances who had assembled for the purpose of congratulating him. They were, for the most part, his former Upsala fellow students who, after their graduation, had taken up their residences in the capital. Among them, to his great joy, he perceived Albert Broman, who had lately taken the law degree, and was now established in the city and was rapidly becoming a man of influ- ence, also Edward Holm, now assistant physician in the garrison hospital, and many others. Not a few young men who had no personal acquaintance with Maurits, had joined the gathering, seeking an intro- duction if possible. 43^ THE PLAY OF FATE The happy Albert now raised his voice. "Gentlemen acquaintances and strangers, it is rec- ognized by all that our young friend and author, Mau- rits Sterner, has afforded us an unusually agreeable evening's entertainment in his interesting play. Let us, therefore, my friends, show our appreciation in a lunch and a bowl after the good old Upsala style. What do you say?" "Well said!" responded all in chorus. "To the Riding Master's then!" commanded Albert. "Lead on! To the Riding Master's! But we must have a song by the way," cried Maurits. ''One of the old Upsala marches." "Singers to the front, and take the author with you!" shouted Albert. "King Charles' march." "Yes, tune up for King Charles. That will do ad- mirably." And King Charles' march rose on the air as the lively company, escorting the hero of the hour,rnarched through the streets still crowded with promenaders who halted, and with pleasure listened to the familiar notes. CHAPTER XI FATHER AND SON That Maurits was happy this evening goes without saying. The reader who has followed his career at- tentively will readily admit that he had full warrant for rejoicing. Not alone over the empty and vain honors the world, materialistic as it is, does not dare deny to genius and talent, but beyond this a some- thing that in Maurits' estimation was much more gratifying than all the distinctions showered upon him. While Maurits and his companions gave themselves up to rejoicing while they sang, drank and held high carnival in the place of refreshment to which the young men had betaken themselves a scene of a very differ- ent character was progressing in one of the princely mansions in Queen Street, just now owned by Baron Ehrenstam and occupied as a dwelling place by him and his family. George had been compelled, of necessity, to escort his mother and sister home, for the baron, during the last act of the play, had suddenly left his seat and set out for home, pleading a slight indisposition. In front of the opera house, the baron found his carriage into which he threw himself, and bade the coachman drive him home. "But madame and the young lady, sir, how are they to get home?" inquired the man. 437 438 THE PLAY OF FATE "Drive on!" shouted the baron fiercely. "They will come in my son's carriage." The carriage rolled away, and George, as we have said, unwillingly, because it prevented his hastening at once to his mistress' home where he was to join his companions in a supper, was left to become his mother's and sister's escort. The baron was soon at the door of his residence where he leaped from his carriage and hastened to his room. For a long time, silent and gloomy, he paced back and forth across the richly carpeted floor. "Confound the thing!" he suddenly broke forth; "who is the author of that accursed play upon which the stupid public so showered their bravos and hand- clappings? The asses! To weep over the fictitious suf- ferings such as there represented while they are all ego- ists quite as much as I." Here the baron clenched his hands and stamped upon the floor in a rage. "To see one's self depicted in this manner, lampooned by a sentimental ink-slinger who has in some manner made himself acquainted with my life! Curses upon him! The amber heart, that detestable gewgaw which I hung around my daughter's neck; the trinket once owned by my first wife and later by her, the pauper, mother of that hungry beggar who calls himself my son must that trinket again make its appearance from its watery grave, where it was left some eight years ago, to haunt me, to resurrect those memories, memories which, however childish they may be, leave me no peace of mind? A thousand curses upon the thing! I thought the secret known to no other than him, the red-headed rascal whom I sent to the house of correction for his endeavor to kill me his father he called me with a stone! 1 have felt that no one would place reliance in FATHER AND SON 439 the fellow's story. And that it should ever be told by an author's pen, who could have imagined it! Who is this fellow? I must know this. Time will reveal it perhaps Maybe he will make himself known this evening when he sees that his play is a success. The fools will doubtless call him out to give him further enjoyment of his triumph to overload him with applause and showers of bouquets, the puling, sentimental idiots! But I will mix wormwood in his cup of joy!" The baron's rage during this monologue had risen to a frightful pitch. He clenched his hands, stamped the floor, and raved like a madman. "It was fortunate," continued he, when his fury had somewhat subsided, "it was fortunate that I left the box in such good time, for the fire that burned within me might have broken out and further compromised me. What will be the consequences of this plaguey thing, I wonder? The author, who seems to be very familiar with my life history, will probably put my name into the mouth of every slanderer and calumni- ator in the land to taunt me. And the jealous mass, the plebeian pack, knowing no better than to wish the downfall of an aristocrat, will have their full of rejoicing. In this manner, interest will be given the play, when it will doubtless draw for several weeks yet, during which the story will probably get to the ears of my wife, my children, my friends. What the)' looked upon as the pratings of a strolling beggar, who proclaimed himself my son, will now be given a color- ing of truth, a certain interest, at least, presented in eloquent and touching language by some vagabond author. The devil take him! I must leave Stockholm. I cannot remain here while this accursed play is on the boards." 44 THE PLAY OF FATE At this point a carriage drew up at the door. The baron grasped a bell cord and rang violently. After a few minutes, during which the baron's patience was almost exhausted, a servant entered, ,alarmed and trembling at sight of the thunder clouds upon his mas- ter's brow ready to burst over his head. "Why do you not come when I ring for you, ras- cal!" roared the baron, rushing with clenched fists upon the frightened servant. The latter stammered out some excuse. "Go down to my son, direct him to come up here at once. I wish to speak with him," said the baron. The servant left the room to execute the command, glad at having escaped bodily injury. In a few minutes, George, wholly out of patience at having been again detained from his mistress, entered the room unannounced, his hat on and a cigar in his mouth, and throwing himself carelessly into an easy chair addressed his father: "Well, what do you want, father? Be quick, for I am in a hurry." The baron was accustomed to his son's ill manners, having been for a long time more his companion than his parent, but this was an occasion when he was in no disposition to be trifled with, and when he re- quired, also, someone upon whom he could vent the fury that boiled within him. "Off with your hat and out with your cigar, scamp!" he roared; "remember you are in my room! " "Ah, Man Cher!" said George indifferently, "what in Sancho is amiss this evening? You are out of spir- its, it seems." "Silence!" shouted the baron, rushing toward his son with uplifted hand; "silence, or I'll knock you down!" FATHER AND SON 44! Rising from his seat, George coolly retcrted : "You act like the baron in the play this evening. You were charmed with the character, I fancy, and are trying to represent it here in your room. You play with al- togeth^r too much spirit, however. I'll not be your scapegoat; an revoir, therefore." Hereupon he turned to leave. "Remain, George, I wish to speak with you," said the baron, a shudder of horror passing through his frame. " Parblcu.' I thought you were of a mind to thrash me," "No, no, take a seat and be quiet. I was irritated when you came in, and your conduct was so cavalier- like that it exasperated me." "Ah, bah! What childishness! Until this, you have always conducted yourself after the most hospitable fashion, and ever since you introduced me to the cir- cle of your acquaintances you remember the evening when you sent me the beautiful Celestine? I have looked upon you as one of the most affectionate fathers, and now you roar like a mad tiger. Fie upon you! Are you a man of the world?" "Enough, enough, George!" cried the baron, pale with rage and shame; "let us not speak of that. I have something else which I would discuss with you." "Say it quickly, then, for my time is precious. I am to sup with Helena, and have invited a number of my friends to join us. What do you wish?" "George, do you know who wrote the play of this evening?" "Certainly. The whole world, except you who left the theater before the end, knows it." "What is his name?" 442 THE PLAY OF FATE "He is one of my old Upsala acquaintances, a young and romantic A. M., by name Sterner." "Sterner! " ejaculated the baron; "where have I heard that name before?" "I don't know, for I have no recollection that I ever mentioned his name to you. But why are you so in- terested in the matter? Great guns! May be you were hit by the play? " "Bah!" said the baron shrugging his shoulders; 1 prattle! Why should a dramatic production concern me, me particularly, understand? There were, how ever, some scenes in that play that brought vividly back to my mind an accident witnessed by me when I was a boy- It was an affair in which I was not a par- ticipant, yet it made a deep impression upon me. The author's name is Sterner, you say?" "Yes." "And do you know his given name?" "Yes, it is Maurits." "Maurits Sterner!" muttered the baron. "I have heard that name before, I am convinced. But when and where? If it should be But no, it is impossible he was but a poor peasant. How old is this fellow Sterner? " "Twenty-three, I believe." "And you made his acquaintance at Upsala? In what manner?" "I had received a letter to him from the pastor at home. You remember that droll being?" "Pastor Bergholm!" exclaimed the baron. "Exactly." "And how was he concerned with this Sterner?" "He had been his teacher while the latter was a boy, living with his mother in a hut at Odensvik. " FATHER AND SON 443 "It is he," muttered the baron, "there can be no doubt about it." "What are you saying, father?" "Nothing. How does he look?" "He bears a striking resemblance to my prospective brother-in-law, Count Stjernekrantz, except that Sterner's face shows no marks of dissipation. It would not surprise me to learn that he is the count's brother in a side line, especially as I have never been able to get any account from him of his father. He holds his mother in almost religious veneration, however." "Enough, George, you may go. I will not detain you longer. Good night!" George bowed aftd withdrew. The baron was again alone. "Maurits Sterner," said he to himself, "yes, that was his name. I remember it now. The 'young boy who rescued Isabella from the water upon the occasion of her losing that accursed neck ornament which seems to have given title to this play. Maurits Sterner! The same boy that, one evening a few years before, in the forest, near the burial place of my murdered son, jumped upon my carriage; the same who, a few days later, came to Liljedahl with some tea-cups for sale. I recollect now that he spoke of these things when he brought Isabella from the water, upon my offering him some money which he scornfully refused. He has now chosen to revenge himself for the wrongs he fancies he has suffered, But how the devil did he obtain such a knowledge of my life!" "I hate that boy, but I must admire him, neverthe- less. It is cunningly conceived, an exquisite and a incomparable revenge." The baron, in no condition to attribute to Maurits 444 TttE PLAY OF FATE any nobler motives, believed beyond question that the young author was actuated solely by a desire for per- sonal revenge. "But," continued he, "what course shall I pursue to keep my name from being associated with the affair? .If I should invite him to my presence, and seek to win his friendship? But no, that were to humble myself altogether too much. Yet I am most anxious to learn where he got his knowledge of that damnable story. " The baron's monologue was interrupted by the tones of a piano from a room adjoining the one occupied by him, and being in no mood to listen to music, he vio- lently threw open the door leading "thereto. "Isabella!" shouted he gruffly, "is that you?" The music ceased instantly. "Yes, father," answered a timorous voice. "Why do you sit and pound on that instrument at this hour of the night! You know that I dislike it very much. " "I thought you had already gone to bed, father." "Go to your room, and leave me in peace.' With a half smothered sigh, the young girl rose from the instrument, put down the cover and withdrew with noiseless footsteps. It was long past midnight when the baron finally retired to his bed, but not to sleep. Like an eel on a gridiron, he writhed upon his downy pillow through the many hours until morning. When George took leave of his father, he hastened back to the theater, where he found Helena still in her dressing-room, just recovering from the swoon into which she fell, the reader will recollect, as the curtain FATHER AND SON 445 dropped. She was now feeling somewhat better, but was still pale and very weak. Assisted by her maid, she had laid off her stage costume, and had donned her usual attire. Upon the arrival of George, she rose with difficulty and extended her hand. 'What is the matter, Helena?" exclaimed he in a disturbed manner. "Are you not well?" "Yes, yes, I am better now." "Better! Have you been ill?" "Yes, I felt a little indisposed." "A little indisposed!" exclaimed the maid; "Mad- emoiselle fainted dead away." 'What do you say?" cried George. "It is nothing. Come now," said Helena, taking the young man's arm. "Is your carriage here, George?" "Yes, it is waiting." "Let us go, then." The young woman wrapped a cloak around her shoulders and, accompanied by George, left the dress- ing-room. "Well," said George, when they were seated in the carriage, "you are doubtless well pleased with the evening?" "Oh, yes." "But in what tones you say it. Have you not achieved an extraordinary success? Have you not, so to speak, been almost buried in flowers? Have you not enjoyed a triumph worthy a Catalani and Mali- bran, or how?" "Yes, I have had rare good fortune." "But you are not satisfied and happy. What is wrong?" Helena did not answer. Weeping, she hid her face upon George's breast. 446 THE PLAY OF FATE "Well, well, why this childishness!" said George impatiently. "Are you ill, or what is it that distresses you?" "O George, I have seen him again." "Him! What him?" "Maurits Sterner." "Well, what of it? What has he to do with your condition? ' "Ah, George, he looked at me with a glance so re- proving, but at the same time so gentle, that it pierced me to the very soul. That glance has aroused the spirit of repentance that has been so long slumbering within me." "Bosh! You silly girl!" said George, in ill humor; "what cause have you for repentance? You have fol- lowed .the dictates of your heart, and have loved me, nothing more. No one will dare censure you for that." "George, my own conscience accuses me. Now, when it is too late, the sense of my shame is forced upon me. This feeling has slumbered, but it was awakened by his presence, that magnanimous, that noble man, who so earnestly wished me well, and whom I so cruelly deceived." "Hush, Helena! I will not listen to such talk! Keep in mind that you must be gay and happy this evening. Drive away your foolish melancholy, jest again, and be your old self once more." "O, George! I love you, but you have brought mis- fortune, deep misfortune, upon me. I realize it now." "What are you prating about?" said George angrily. "It would have been better, maybe, had I left you to continue your perambulations as a beggar through the streets of Stockholm." "O! George, do not be so cruel. Forgive me, if I FATHER AND SON 447 have pained you. I will do so no more. But I was thinking, what will become of me if you should tire of and desert me, George." "I will not desert you. Moreover, you have opened a brilliant future for yourself, and the directors of the theater will pay you a salary of many thousands of dollars. You can also visit foreign lands, if you will, where rich harvests of honor and gold are to be reaped. Yet more, I swear to you, that while I live you shall want for nothing whatever happens. Now then, be calm, my little Helena, and remember that you are to play hostess this evening to a large gathering of my friends and your admirers." Sjmewhat appeased by these words, Helena re- sumed: "What has been done cannot now be undone. But it was a strange fate that brought me in such a manner together with my former teacher. That I should make my debut in a piay written by him is very extraordinary." The carriage at this instant drew up before the home in which the young actress dwelt. A number of young gentlemen had gathered in front of it, await ing the arrival of George and Helena. They were instantly surrounded, and a cheer for "the young queen, of the stage was proposed, to which they all responded with a three times three hurrah. At these sounds, Helena's eyes brightened again. Sorrow and repentance were banished, and the pleasure of seeing herself glorified by the lions of the capital dispelled, in an instant, all other feelings. Supported by George's arm, she sprang lightly from the carriage, and greeted the young cavaliers with a pleasant smile. "Here we are at last, gentlemen. 1 was detained 448 THE PLAY OF FATE very unexpectedly and much against my will. I am sorry to have kept you waiting. Come in." Helena led the way, and George followed with the guests. Entering the briliantly lighted salon, a banquet that would have done justice to a Lucullus was spread be- fore them upon the table, groaning under its burden of heaping silver dishes and bottles of champagne. "Welcome, gentlemen," said Helena to her guests. "Be patient a few minutes, I'll return soon," where- upon she disappeared into an inner room. "Where did she go?" said Baron G , the same to whom we have had the honor, once before, of present- ing the reader. "O, she'll return soon," said George, "some atten- tion to her toilet took her away, perhaps. Be seated, meanwhile. " 'This evening has given us two new notabilities in the world of art, an author and an actress," observed Count Alfred H , the second of the two cavaliers whose acquaintance we made on Norrbro. "And both have done their parts nobly," said George. "What do you say, friends?" "Your ward does you honor, George," said Alfred. "But for you our country never would have known one of its most gifted artists." We will leave the young gentlemen, who number ten or twelve persons, to continue their conversation, while we accompany Helena to her toilet room. Upon entering, the young girl paused before a mirror to survey herself. "Ugh! I have not yet wiped off that abominable rouge," said she. "I look like a portrait." Where- upon she dipped a handkerchief in water, and wiped FATHER AND SON 4.4.9 away the pigment noticing as she did so that her cheeks were deadly pale. "Good gracious, how pale I am! And my eyes are red and swollen with weeping. I have wept, yes. It is the first time it has occurred in a long while and that it should happen to-day of all days. That look, I shall never forget. But hush! I must not think of it. I must be cheerful and gay, said George. Cheer- ful and gay, great heavens! Have I cause for being otherwise!" continued she, surveying her beautiful surroundings. "Everything is exquisite here; every- thing shines with gold, silk and crystal; pleasure beckons me, mankind lights burnt offerings for me; whence comes this strange, unusual disquiet that presses so heavily upon my breast? Why do I feel so? It is as if I were on the brink of a volcano's crater, gaping ready to swallow me. I have never felt so before. And now, now, upon the very dawn of my triumph, my victory, that these thoughts should awake within me. Away with them! It is childish. My dear eyes, you must not betray me, you must be aglow with life; must emit flashes of fire, sparkle with gladness; trouble and sorrow must not be allowed to peep out through your mirrors. I must wipe out their traces. " Helena again dipped the handkerchief into cold water and bathed her eyes, an operation that soon restored them to their natural condition. "Maurits would not speak to me. He went his way without so much as asking after me. He despised me," continued Helena in thought, "and I would give ten years of my life if I could regain his esteem. How noble, how grand, he is. O, my God! There I discover something else than 450 THE PLAY OF FATE "But hush, Helena, your guests await you. Even here the sound of their gay laughing may be heard. I come, I come." With an almost spasmodic violence, Helena grasped the bell-cord. The waiting-maid entered. "Be quick, Caroline. Dress me immediately. The white silk dress with points, jewels in my hair, black satin slippers and Lyonaise long shawl." 'Done in a twinkling, ma'mselle. " Ten minutes later, Helena entered the salon in the full splendor of her ravishing beauty, now augmented greatly by her costly and elegant toilet. Her usual smile played upon her lips, and in the most charming manner she directed her guests to seats as they were presented to her by George. Soon all were seated and the champagne began to flow, sallies of wit went the rounds, and the walls echoed with shouts of merriment. During the many hours, far into the night, while George and his companions were enjoying themselves to the utmost, while Helena with music and the be- witching melody of the voice in song enlivened the feast, a lonesome wanderer, hungry and chilled to the marrow by the night frosts, paced back and forth in front of the house in which the beautiful actress dwelt. Back and forth the whole night paced this weary being, now and then glancing up at the win- dows of the brilliantly lighted rooms. It was two o'clock when the banqueters finally came reeling down the stairs, weak in the knees from the great quantities of champagne drunk, not a few of them barely able to keep their feet when they reached the street. The FATHER AND SON 45! lonely man drew aside and listened to the conversa- tion that was continued in high tones. "A splendid evening, matchless wine!" said one voice. "What a shame that I can't be in our host's place." "Why so?" questioned another. "Because I could then have remained with the host- ess, little charmer." The listener heard no more, for the voices were now beyond earshot, but he had heard enough. With a look of hate, of desperation, he lifted his clenched fist toward the spangled heavens, and swore a terrible oath, an oath heard only by the powers of night. Hereupon he departed slowly into the dark alley. This lonely man was Jacob Kron. CHAPTER XII OLD ACQUAINTANCES We will now leave Stockholm: leave Helena to enjoy her triumph, and fight her battle of life. We shall see her again by and by, after many and various experiences, and under wholly different circumstances. We are now taken by our narrative to a change of scene and actors. We will visit the unpretentious dwelling of Pastor Bergholm, one beautiful afternoon near the end of May, a year later than the incidents of our last chap- ter. The worthy preserver of souls has changed little since we last saw him, except that added years have somewhat bent his figure, and sprinkled more silver in his locks. His heart is the same; a noble heart that under a rough exterior beats only for the lofty, the holy and the beautiful in life. The same good-natured expression plays on his lips, and the high forehead tells of deep study and cares. And his wife Brita, what shall we say of her? The reader will recognize the same homely, thick-set figure; the same bustling little body, impetuous and chafing as of old; the same love for her husband and children, and full of the same curtain lectures. Oscar is not at home. He has opened a store on his own account in Gothenburg, and is exceeding his most sanguine expectations as a merchant. Every Christmas and every mid-summer he visits his parents, 453 OLD ACQUAINTANCES 453 for whom he entertains the most tender love, always bringing with him a number of beautiful presents for his sisters. Of the four sisters, Marie, Louise, Lotta and Ulla, we find only three. They are sitting, as is their wont, by the window plying their needles. It is the oldest, Marie, who is missing from the circle. But where is she? We are informed, upon inquiry, that the pretty and lively Marie, the joy of her parents, is the wife of an honorable and noble man one with whom we have been made acquainted in the earlier chapters of our narrative none other than Magister Holmer who, having served his time as teacher in the family of Baron Ehrenstam, has become a tiller of the soil upon a beautiful little plat of land of which the baron, faith- ful to his promise, has made him possessor for the rest of his life. Madame \Vasholm, the literary woman, who has surely not been forgotten by the reader, with her hus- band, the beer-loving priest, is on a visit to the par- ish. We find Madame Washolm sitting on the humble sofa entertaining her hostess to the best of her ability, meanwhile refreshing herself with some rusks and a cup of coffee, which she holds in her hand. The old men have established themselves comforta- bly in a corner, and are whiling away the time with a game of checkers, the only game about which the good pastor knows anything. A foaming tankard of fresh ale has been brought in, and is standing on the small table near by, for the pastor, knowing the priest's weakness, never fails, when honored by a visit from him, to have prepared for him some of his much-loved beverage. "Ah, my brother!" observed the priest, after a deep 454 THE PLAY OF FATE draught from the tankard, "you cannot escape a slaughter. It is your own fault, however, you should not have made that last move. There you are. It is done. " " Mirabile dictu!" exclaimed the pastor; "you are a master at the game, brother. That I, who was doing so nicely at the outset, should be so routed! Sed ra- ria tst fortuna. " 'Quite true, quite true," responded the priest, who did not understand a word of Latin, the little he ever knew having been forgotten long ago. "But my brother will have revenge, perhaps?" "Certainly," answered the pastor, arranging the men " Htec contiunclia tne non fregif, sed erexit, as Nepos says. We will try again." Again the parson was worsted. "You are having extraordinary good luck, while mine is unusually poor," said the pastor, not a little vexed, and rising from his seat. "I knew that before," muttered he to himself; "fills quorum meruere labores!" Pastor Bergholm had noticed all through the visit of the priest that his guest appeared to have some burden on his mind from which he was anxious to re- lieve himself. Several times he twirled his calote and opened his mouth as if about to say something, but checked himself as though the subject were of a very delicate and distressing nature. Mustering courage at length, he said: "Your son-in-law, a very worthy and estimable man, by the way, hum! Has my brother heard what he is doing at his little place?" "Heard what he is doing! Nothing but good, I hope," said the pastor. "Certainly, certainly, there is nothing really bad in OLD ACQUAINTANCES 455 his doings, though I cannot approve them altogether. He has opened a school for the peasant children of the parish, and is teaching them history, geography and mathematics, I believe. He is doing it with the best of motives, I do not question, but may he not be c Miimitting a great error in taking these children from their work to teach them stuff from which they can dsrive not the slightest benefit? Do you not think, my dear brother, that we had better put a stop to this?" The pastor shrugged his shoulders. "I can really see no harm in Holmer's humane en- deavor, which was entered upofi with my full concur- rence," said the pastor. "You know, brother, that 1 was a party to the undertaking." "Hem! It seems to me quite unnecessary, never- theless, that the peasantry should be taught anything beyond the actual requirements of their station. This half education begets pride and covetousness. Petti- foggers and such rascals, the chief cause of so much wrangling in the parish, could not exist if the peas- ants were left alone to study only their catechisms. I would very unwillingly employ a man who would spend his time with mathematical problems instead of watching my flocks, and it is quite enough for a serv- ant girl to know how to scrub and cook well. What does it concern them whether Charles the XII was king of Sweden or sultan of Turkey?" "Washolm is right!" chimed in his wife in a tone of superiority, "we must put a stop to that mischief, my dear pastor. We who are educated should not allow the low-born mass to trespass upon the spirit- ual realms, for there is danger in it that we may fall from it ourselves, because the peasant, in such an 456 THE PLAY OF FATE event, would regard himself our equal. You ought to think of that, my dear pastor, and let me say to you, moreover, that nearly all the gentry are of the same opinion with me on the subject. I was at Liljedahl a few days ago where I found that both the baron and baroness are very much displeased with Holmer's un- dertaking. He should have a care how he comes into conflict with the views of his powerful patron on whose charity he is dependent." The pastor had struggled to the utmost during this conversation to smother his indignation. That he was not a little annoyed was manifest in the dark, swollen veins on his forehead, and his eyes, at other times so mild and gentle, were now lighted up by a fire very unusual to the old man. He concealed his feelings, however, and replied calmly: "Referring to your last remark, madame, allow me to correct you. My son- in-law is in no manner dependent upon Baron Ehren- stam, or any other one. He asks no favors from any- one. The little farm he possesses is no gratuity, the continuance of which is wholly with the baron, but came to him as remuneration for many years of faith- ful service, and was deeded to him formally. Ergo, he is a freeholder, arrd the baron has no business med- dling with his affairs. If he is disposed to teach the poor children, whom he loves as every honorable man loves the humble and less favored of his fellow creat- ures, there is no human power that can prevent him. He receives no compensation, wherefore it is not self- interest that actuates him. His sole desire is to spread light and blessings around him, to worthily fulfill his mission as a citizen and a Christian. Every intelligent and truly educated person, madame, will give him merited credit therefor." OLD ACQUAINTANCES 457 The pastor emphasized the words "truly educated" s ) strongly that the learned woman took it for a per- sonal allusion, whereat her thin and bony cheeks were flushed with anger. There was nothing that so wounded this woman as to question her superior learning, of which she was always prating, and every one who came into contact with her was at once made aware that concerning her own accomplishments she entertained a very exalted opinion. She had the utmost faith in the infallibility of her judgment, and, excepting the Baroness Ehrenstam, there was, in her opjnion, no one in the community who was her intellectual peer. Doubt her honor, doubt her character, these were of little consequence but her erudition, that were to commit an unpardonable offense. Speechless with anger at having a simple country pastor put her intelligence to question, she grew red and pale by turns; the tip of her nose was aglow with the most brilliant crimson, and her eyes flashed fire. She endeavored in vain to find an expression suffi- ciently keen to forever annihilate the bold parson. Seriously apprehensive as to the storm that was ready to burst upon the head of her unfortunate spouse, Ma- dame Bergholm could discover no other means of es- cape than by a sacrifice involving the overturning of the table on which the coffee pot and a number of porcelain cups remained, and by means of the confu- sion thus created, draw the attention of the literary amazon in another direction. The plan succeeded. At the clatter made by the falling table, Madame Washolm turned around, forgetting, at sight of the delicious cup of coffee spilled on the floor, to empty the vials of her wrath upon the head of the poor pas- tor. Her victim was rescued, but for an instant only. 458 THE PLAY OF FATE "Goodness me! "What have I done, cried Madame Bergholm in well feigned distress. "Papa, come here and help me." The pastor hastened to the assistance of his wife, glad to escape the learned dame's tongue lashing, but hardly was the table on its legs again when she re- turned to the unpleasant subject. "My dear pastor, we were speaking of your son-in- law's proceedings, and you declared that no truly ed- ucated person would condemn his course. Did you not, or did I, perhaps, hear you incorrectly?" "Certainly, certainly, madame," muttered the pastor, who now bitterly regreted his hast}' words, "but I will add " "You will add that I am not numbered among the truly educated, since I oppose his project," interrupted the irrepressible woman; "you regard yourself an un- commonly wise man because you have been basting your brain these many years with Greek and Latin, but I would have you understand that modern literature contains the germs of as much erudition as the so- called classics. What were Virgil, Cicero and Tacitus as poets compared with Byron, Goethe and Tasso?" "Cicero and Tacitus were not poets," observed the pastor. "The first was " "I don't care what they were," interrupted the wo- man, angered beyond measure at her error more than at the pastor's daring to correct her. "I don't care what they were, but you must confess that they who lived two or three thousand years ago cannot be classed, in any particular, the equals of the three per- sons named by me who belong to our own age." "Tasso," interposed the pastor, with the same provoking ingenuousness, "does not belong to our age. He lived several hundred years ago." OLD ACQUAINTANCES 459 "That is a fact with which I am quite as well ac- quainted as you, Herr Pastor," continued Madame Washolm with stinging bitterness. "I am quite well aware of it. " "Oh, no, rnadame," broke in the pastor, "I was jest- ing. You know that Tasso is still living, though a very old man. " This wholly disconcerted the good man's antagonist. Truth to say, she had never read a line of Tasso, and knew only regarding him that he was a great poet. The pastor enjoyed the embarrassment, therefore, into which his bold declaration had thrown her. Madame Washolm soon gathered herself, however, and continued: "Tasso has nothing to do with the subject under discussion. We are interested only in Magister Holmer and his peasant school." "My wife is right," interrupted the little, fat priest, who sat like a cipher beside a figure one; "my wife is right. That is the question. My brother has not yet answered my objections to the project." "Your objections are quickly disposed of," said the pastor. "My brother fears that my son-in-law's school, and the education of the common people, will beget such beings as he has just named. But who can- not see that it will lead to their destruction? For, with enlightenment, the peasantry will have no occasion for employing such rascals, ever ready to deceive the simple and credulous. They will learn how to use their own wits, and the little education they may re- ceive in childhood will not, I hope, make them as proud and untractable as you apprehend, but humble, for, when they are once admitted to the field of knowl- edge, they will perceive it to be limitless, and will thereby be made to see with greater clearness their 460 THE PLAY OF FATE own insignifiance, their own nothingness, and this knowledge will conduce to their humbleness. And such is the object of the school that my noble and worthy son-in-law, assisted by my daughter, is con- ducting. " "Even so," said the priest, "but it can amount to nothing more than a half view, a lifting of the mist." The pastor shrugged his shoulders. "Which is best?" asked he, "to have only one eye, or to be totally blind? To work in the dawn, or in midnight darkness? Answer me, brother." "Your comparisons are not applicable, it seems to me." "Yes, they are as applicable as comparisons can be. For why are we, the peasant as well as others, put here in this world? Is it for no other purpose than to plod through this weary life, midst trials and troubles, in the darkness of ignorance? May not even the peasant be permitted sometimes to lift his thoughts above the earth, to look out beyond the material into the spiritual? Ought we, who call ourselves educated and enlightened, to grudge the lowliest of our brothers the glorious advantages of education and enlightenment?" Pastor Bergholm uttered these words in a voice trem- bling with emotion. The noble old man, inspired and animated by the thoughts that, for the moment, pos- sessed him thoughts of the poor, despised and humil- iated peasantry for whose well-being his heart beat warmly, the intellectually blind to whom he would give sight forgot for the instant to whom he was speaking; forgot that he to whom he was addressing himself was a narrow-minded, egotistical priest, in- capable of grasping the idea that animated and en- raptured the finely educated, intelligent and lofty minded man. OLD ACQUAINTANCES 461 "I see already, in my mind's eye, the dawn of the day," continued the pastor with agumented earnest- ness, "when the newly adopted ideas of civilization shall cross swords with ignorance and darkness; when these helpless children of my native land shall no longer be left entirely to their fate; when there shall be schools in every village; when the popular sciences shall no longer be strangers to the mass of the Swedish people; and when the peasant who plows the field may, with gladness and gratitude, look back to the time when he was a school-boy." "The Lord preserve us! " interrupted Madame Was- holm. "God spare me from existence when such a time comes as you seem to see looming up in the future." The pastor did not reply. The woman's utterance had dispelled his dream. The priest finally took his leave, determined to do everything possible in opposition to Holmer and his school, When the guests had departed, the pastor, shaking himself together, exclaimed: "God be praised that we are rid of them, Brita! Such a cackler as that woman I have never seen. The comparison makes me love you better, Brita, though you have never heard speak of Tasso. " "But you chaff her continually, Bergholm." "Chaff her! Has not her mutton-headed husband done everything imaginable all day to irritate me prating about the disastrous consequences of Holmer's school! They ought to be ashamed!" "Papa dear," cried the girls, surrounding their father, "do not be angry any longer, but go with us to Marielund for a little visit. We promised Marie 462 THE PLAY OF FATE yesterday, that we would call this evening and see her with her pupils. It is now only five. Come, papa dear. " "I'll go with you in a few minutes, children, but let me open my mail first. I see Bertha coming up the walk with the pouch. She has some letters, per- haps." The pastor took the pouch from the girl upon her arrival, and, opening it, found a well-filled envelope bearing the Upsala post-mark. "From Maurits, " said he to himself as he broke the seal. "That is a boy after my own heart. How de- voted he is. He does not forget his old teacher, not- withstanding his success. Ah! " added he with a sigh, "why did not God grant me that my own son become but it is useless to complain. 'The wolf should remain in the forest, and the dove in the dove-cote/ the saying goes." Unfolding the letter, he read it to the end. "Well, what does he write?" inquired Mrs. Berg- holm. "Brita, the little guest-chamber next to mine must be put in order as well as circumstances will permit." "My dear Bergholm, my milk cans are there!" "Do as I bid you! The milk cans must be moved to the pantry, and the room put in order; for Maurits Sterner is coining to spend a few weeks with us. Make the room as neat and attractive as you can, and keep in mind that its prospective occupant promises to become one of the foremost of European poets. And what is more, do not forget that he is a house- hold friend." "What do I care for the poets of Europe? " growled Madame Bergholm. "I am much more concerned OLD ACQUAINTANCES 463 about my milk cans. A friend of the household, surely! As if that boy did not have you to thank for all that he is and has. And your room is not good enough for him, he must have one all to himself. But you have always shown a weakness for him, and I believe, God forgive me, that you love him more than your own wife and children." "More than my wife's milk cans, at any rate," in- terposed the pastor mildly. "Mamma sweet," interrupted Louise, who was dearest to her mother because of great assistance in the house- hold cares, "we will help you move the milk cans and provisions. Most assuredly, Mr. Sterner shall have a room to himself. He deserves it for the beautiful play he has written, and which he so kindly sent us last autumn. Mamma, you remember it, 'The Amber Heart.'" "Yes, yes, my child, I remember it, " answered Ma- dame Bergholm, whose anger was easily appeased, "though I did not read it. Well, well, we must move the things, I suppose. You may help me in the morn- ing, girls. When does Mr. Sterner come?" "Sometime next week. He could not set the day, but writes that he is tired of Upsala, and will come down here to shake off the book dust. I'll write to Oscar, and invite him to come for a few days. The two gentlemen may room together." "That is a kind husband," now quite at ease about her milk cans. "If Oscar is to come, I am ready to do anything you may command. Maurits has a warm place in my regard, but 'blood is thicker than water. '" "Than milk too," said the pastor laughing. "Aside from this, there is nothing in Maurits' letter that will interest you. He speaks of his studies, and his hopes 464 THE PLAY OF FATE for the future, but he has not yet let me into a knowl- edge of the contents of the papers received from his dying mother, which he was to open on his twentieth birthday. 'When we meet,' he says, 'I will give you a full account, and I feel certain you will approve my conduct.' But come now, girls, let us go to Marie- lund." The girls were soon ready, putting on their hats being all that was necessary, for the air was as balmy as on a mid-summer day, and they prepared to start. 'Well, will you have me with you?" i; If you have time, Brita," said the pastor. "We will go en grande famille, " added he laughing. "Bertha, do not forget to wash the peas and keep an eye to the fire," shouted Madame Bergholm to the maid, at the same time donning her head dress, "I shall be absent for a time." The little family set out upon their way, the gay and frolicsome girls chasing the many-hued butterflies that fluttered over the emerald green meadows' newly awakened verdure. It was a glorious spring even- ing on one of the last days of May. The sky was blue, and blue were the sparkling brooks and the dancing waves of the adjacent lake wherein the sink- ing sun viewed himself in all his glor}'. A thousand birds fluttered in the green trees, and thousands of tiny flowers lifted their bashful heads to listen the their joyful twittering. In the distance was heard the horn of the herder, and on all sides could be distinguished the buzzing of the myriads of winged insects that swarmed in the rays of the spring sun. The way led the pastor and his family over a bridge, the same from which, eight years before, Isabella Ehrenstam plunged into the water below. Here the OLD ACQUAINTANCES 465 pastor paused an instant to contemplate the magnifi- cent view that was opened to him along the banks of the stream, and finally spread out in a distant perspec- tive where the eyes rested upon the Wener's majestic- ally calm s'urface. "See, children!" said he, gathering his three daugh- ters around him, "see what a beautiful picture the good Lord has spread before us for our pleasure; see how the sun gradually winds its girdle of gold around the earth, sinking slowly down into the chambers of the deep. O, that sun whose rays are kindled for us all, my children! There is nothing so insignificant that it is not invigorated by its light, and yet there are those who, scoffing at the Creator, declare that only a select few are given to enjoy the inner, the spiritual light; that there is no sunrise of the intellect for the unfortunate, the pariahs of humanity, but that they are doomed to eternal night. Woe to these scoffers! They will not understand their Maker's de- signs. They oppose their own peculiar and circum- scribed views to the principle of universal liberty that makes itself so manifest in all nature." The pastor ceased and stood a long time deeply engaged with his reflections. It was one of his dis- tractions that at the moment overcame him. He for- got everything, and in vain his wife tugged several times at his coat in the effort to arouse him. He responded only with a mechanical motion of his hand as if to say, "Do not disturb me, my mind is occupied with other matters. " Madame Bergholm, becoming impatient, at last gave her husband a vigorous shake, exclaiming: "Why do you stand there dreaming, Bergholm? Have you forgotten that we are on our way to Marie- lund? Come along! " 466 THE PLAY OF FATE 'You are right, wife," said he, roused from his med- itations, "I was dreaming. Come, let us proceed." About a mile from the parsonage, a narrow by-path wound off to the left through the forest. This path led to Marielund, the dwelling-place of th'e pastor's son-in law and daughter. The residence of this happy couple consisted of a one story, white-painted house, surrounded by leafy birches and lindens. Back of the building, was a very pretty and well kept garden that sloped gently toward a stream which skirted its further side. On the other side of the stream, and to the right and left of the building, stretched the fields belonging to the prop- erty. In front of the house was a smooth, grassy lawn shaded by trees, and beyond this the stable and other out-houses. Back of this again, stretched a dark forest of pines of which a considerable portion belonged to Holmer's farm. A pretty green fence enclosed the lawn and separated it from the road. Such was the place that Baron Ehrenstam, in ac- cordance with his early promise, had settled upon his children's former teacher. It had previously been a tenanted property belonging to the Liljedahl estate, but Holmer and his wife held title to it for the period of their natural lives, which the baron had, liberally enough, set at eighty years. Holmer was now about forty and the property would remain, therefore, yet fort)' years in possession of him or his family, after which it would revert to the heirs of the baron. Such were the conditions. It cannot be disputed that this was a very generous compensation for a teacher, but the baron was also the possessor of a million, and in this had done noth- ing remarkable. Moreover, his egoism notwithstand- OLD ACQUAINTANCES 467 ing, he loved now and then to make a show of liber- ality, and he listened with no little pleasure to the praise bestowed upon him by his neighbors for his generosity to his children's teacher, who, by his untir- ing patience, his many years of faithful service, had surely earned it all. And, too, it was only a few hun- dred dollars taken from the rich man's income, that he had sacrificed from his abundance. The rent had never amounted to any more, besides, the tenants had never taken good care of the property, and many had been turned off because they did not pay their rent, while in the keeping of the industrious and order-lov- ing Holmer it had increased in value a considerable. Thus matters stood when Holmer, out of his good- ness of heart, conceived the plan of employing his unoccupied hours in teaching the children of the com- munity. This enterprise he had just set in motion. He was not rich, and could not indulge in the works of charity which money enables one to do. But he was moved by an inner, and an instinctive desire, to assist his fellows, and, when he pondered upon the means by which this desire could be gratified, he found nothing more practicable, more in accord with his inclinations and ability, than to spread the light, the seed of piety and virtue, as he hoped, among the ignorant and, in those days, the woefully neglected, children of the community in which he dwelt. To this end, he went among the cottagers. Every- where he found credulity, ignorance and superstition, and his heart was made heavy thereat. He talked with the fathers and mothers, and offered to take their children to his home every evening and give them in- struction. Holmer was eloquent when he laid before 468 THE PLAY OF FATE the parents the great advantages that education would afford their children. They listened to his words, and many of them accepted his kind offer, after they had consulted their pastor, Bergholm. "It possesses one merit at least," thought they, "it will cost us nothing." In this manner, the school was organized. Some- thing like eighteen or twenty boys and as many girls were soon brought together even 7 afternoon at Marie lund, where the teacher and his good wife might be seen daily, busied with their newly imposed duties. We shall soon see what methods were employed. We must now return from our digression, to the pas- tor and his family, whom we left on the way. CHAPTER XIII AT MARIELUND When Pastor Bergholm and his family reached the gate that opened upon the lawn just described, this scene met their eyes. Between thirty and forty children of both sexes were seated in a circle on the ground near a see-saw standing by the wall of the house. The greater number of these children were upward of ten years of age, and not a few of them quite fifteen. In the midst of the group was seen the noble and benev- olent face of Holmer, seated on a stone which he had brought into service as a chair. In his hands he held a globe which he was explaining to his curious listen- ers, who were now, for the first time, made aware that the world is round. In his calm, clear and pleasing manner, he laid before his pupils the simplest lesson in physical geography. On the see-saw, back of her husband, sat his wife with a sleeping babe resting on her knees, listening, meanwhile, to a seven year- old girl who stood at her side reading the catechism. The little miss was not yet old enough to take part in the exercises of the other children, wherefore Maiie had assumed her instruction. "O, if Lillanna will be good and induscrious, " said Marie, "she can soon catch up with the others, when she will be taught many wonderful things that Master Holmer is now teaching the other children." Lillanna was doing her best, and could already read 469 47 THE PLAY OF FATE with readiness though she stumbled now and then over a word. She was clever and eager for knowledge which encouraged Marie to hope much for her little pupil. Upon the arrival of Pastor Bergholm, all rose, and Holmer advanced to greet his father-in-law. The girls and their mother hastened toward Marie, and were soon seated with her on the see-saw. "Go on, Carissimcf said the pastor, after shaking hands with Holmer; "go on with your teaching. I will seat myself with your pupils, and be instructed also," whereupon he threw himself at whole length upon the ground among the children; and Holmer resumed. There was in Holmer' s manner of address such a clearness and comprehensiveness that every child, even to the smallest, seemed to understand him, and all gave him the most marked attention. Not a word was lost, and concerning what they did not at once grasp, a strong desire was evinced at the close of the lesson for more light. Holmer used no text books, niether did he give his pupils lessons to memorize, but taught them altogether orally, Great care was exercised to first lay the subject in hand clearly before them, after which, he ascertained, by interrogating his class, how thoroughly he had been understood. This he believed to be not alone the best but really the only practical method with such as were his pu- pils. "Set lessons bewilder them," he declared, "and it would be impossible to give each one separate at- tention." For an hour, he talked to his little hearers, after which the questioning began. Going from one to the other, each was interrogated in something like the following manner: "Well, Matts Perrson's Ole, what can you tell me about the earth?" AT MARiELUNl) 47! "It is round," answered the boy. "And you, Erik, do you know whether it is at a standstill, or moving?" ''It is standing still, sir," answered Erik, who had probably not been as attentive as he might. "Indeed, Erik! Now, children, what do you say? " "It got;s around the sun," came the answer in chorus. In this manner, the examination was continued for some time. Each was questioned in turn, and before the finish, all gave evidence of having grasped a good slure of the master's meaning. Following this, a chapter was read from the New Testament, of which every child had a volume. This was succeeded by a prayer, when they were dismissed. After thanking their teacher for his trouble, and promising to ponder over and endeavor to retain what they had that day boon ta-.ight, they dispersed to their homes. The children well out of the way, the two men seated themselves on the see saw, the women having followed Marie into the house. "You are truly doing a most excellent work," said the pastor, glancing toward the retiring score and a half of children in the distance, "a divine work, the issue of a noble mind. God grant you his blessing and suc- cess in your endeavor, my son." Holmer did not respond. A cloud gathered upon his forehead. It was clear that the usually serene and cheerful man was depressed by some impending trouble. "You are silent," said the pastor, "you look dis- tressed. What disturbs you?" "O father, the school that has grown to be such a great source of pleasure to me, who could believe it 472 THE PLAY OF FATE would become a needle in the side of any one in the community? But it is so, and it is this that wounds had distresses me." "They are opposed to the enlightenment of the peas- ants, of that I am aware, my son. Ah, I know these narrow-minded creatures! To use Mrs. Washolm's words, they fear them, and will not permit the intru- sion of the lower class into the territory of the aris- tocracy, and at their head stands the priest, the so- called piilar of the church. But we will have some- thing to say in the matter, they shall see." "Ah, father! It is not alone the ppiest. Have you an idea who they are who have incited this worthy pair to persecute and oppose me and my school?" 'No. Who are they? ' "None other than my former employer, the baron, and his wife. The baron summoned me yesterday, and condemned my 'hellish project,' as he termed it, in the strongest terms. 1 ' "And what reply did you make?" "I informed him politely, but resolutely, that I was a free and independent being, no longer bound to obey his commands, and that so long as I did nothing un- lawful, he had no right to interfere with me." "That was well put, my son. I said the same thing yesterday to the priest and his wife. Well, and Ehrenstam, what did he say?" "You should have seen his fury. It was actually fearful. He clenched his hands and roared like a madman. "'Do you not know,' shouted he, 'that he who gave you the roof over your head can deprive you of it; can drive both you and your wife from its shelter! A beg- gar such as you, living upon my charity, should not oppose his benefactor's wishes.'" AT MARIELUND 473 "Abominable!" exclaimed the pastor with flashing eyes. "And what did you say to this outbreak?" "'Baron Ehrenstam,' said I, 'respect for your gray hair commands me to moderation, though your words deserve an emphatic rebuke. I do not live upon your charity, and I am in no sense your debtor; neither can you deprive me of my property which you gave me, according to agreement, in payment for my serv- ices. And concerning my school, I shall continue it, your anger notwithstanding. Good day, Baron Ehren- stam.' With these words, I opened the door and de- parted, leaving him beside himself with rage." "Well answered, and see to it that you are not less determined in the future. What one regards as right, that which he looks upon as a duty, he must perform whatever difficults and sufferings may encounter. Moreover, what can the baron do?" "He can't take away my farm, quite true, but with the power that wealth and position give him, he can wholly destroy the fruits of my work. He can forbid the tenants' children coming to my school." "No, he can't," interrupted the pastor. "The peas- ants are not slaves; and it is no affair of the baron's if they wish their children educated." "True, he cannot directly forbid it, but he can in- directly prevent it. They are dependent on him; he can evict them from their homes; he can seize their little belongings to satisfy the demands he may make upon them. O, he can find a thousand excuses and ways to accomplish his end. And the priest, who is his creature, will surely not fail to assist him. This man will call to aid the superstitious credulity of the people, and will picture my school to the ignorant as nothing more nor less than an evil breeding institu- 474 THE PLAY OF FATE tion. He will tell them that it is my design to in- struct their children in worldliness and sinfulness only; that one teacher is all they require, etc., etc., and with such powerful opponents, my school must go down. The baron will enlist Count Stjernekrantz of Odensvik, with whom he is closely allied, and he will undoubtedly take sides against me. These two power- ful men will then use their influence with every one in the parish, and, finally, in reward for all my trouble, I shall have nothing but the scorn of both high and low. So it will come about, you shall see." "God forbid! We will employ . every possible means to circumvent your enemies' designs. We have friends also, let us hope. I will talk with the people of my parish. I will tell them that they must not allow themselves to be frightened, and you must ap- peal to your former pupils, the young baron and his sister. They must have some influence with their father. " "Ah! my dear sir, as for George, he will sustain his father in everything. I know him well. No one can possess a prouder or more despotic disposition than he. My instructions have fallen upon him like seed on stony ground. During all my years as his tutor, I was unable lo mold or make the slightest impression upon his character. I sought to inculcate some of the nobler principles, but he has followed closely in the footsteps of his sire. He has become an aristocrat in the broadest sense of the term, and it is quite natural that he should be so, for the seeds I sowed in that hard and unfruitful heart were pulled up by his parent before they had time to take root. 'It is my son's ed- ucation that you are to look after,' the baron always said, 'his morals and general conduct will be my con- AT MARIELUND 475 cern alone.' Under such circumstances, I am not responsible, you must admit, for the corruption the youngster has absorbed." "Truly not, but I can't see how you remained so long, under such conditions, in the place you occupied in the family." "It was mostly on Isabella's account. She is an angel; the noblest, the most innocent, and withal, the most heroic-minded woman I know. And just on this account she has always been slighted by her parents, both of whom have favored the son at all times at the expense of the daughter's rights and what was due her. She has always been kept at arm's length, and never shown any kindness,until she has become as shy of them, finally, as a deer in the forest. But when she comes to me, I wipe away her tears, or we weep together. I have conducted that young fiery soul into a world where she has found a compensating pleasure, however into the world of art and beauty. Are you prepared to believe it, father? She possesses a knowl- edge of the richest quality: a knowledge of subjects that men will not readily believe women capable of grasping. Her acquaintance with the dead languages is quite as good as with the living, and even philoso- phy is not a mystery to her. With an eagerness for knowledge seldom met with, she sat at my feet as a child, as a maiden, and inquired into, investigated and learned all that I could teach her. Even now, she sometimes steals away from home to come here and read Herminius, by Tasso; Romeo and Juliet's moonlight conversation, or the monologue of the dying Ajax, by Sophocles." "A rare girl that!" exclaimed the pastor with warmth; "it must have been very interesting to have had such a pupil." 476 THE PLAY OF FATE "You should have seen her, father, when, fresh as the morning breezes that play among the tree tops, she hastened to the cottages of the poor, the needy and distressed. It was not alone her alms that alle- viated their sufferings, but the words that flowed from her lips; words of comfort and consolation that fell like balsam on their burning sores. And again, you should have seen her in the evening hours at the piano, dreaming the most glorious fantasies with no other listener than me. You would have heard music that rivals the soft sigh of the winds among the Ital- ian mountain pines, or such as the airy tones pro- duced by the plaintive aeolian harp. Notes at times wild, boisterous, like the dreams of a madman; at times, full, harmonious, rich, as the tones of a seraph's harp; again enticing, bewitching, as the lyre of a siren." "If I may believe you, my son, this girl must be an extraordinary creature. And she is beautiful, too, as beautiful as tradition paints the Greek Aphrodite. Such a person must possess strong passions," added the pastor as if to himself. "Passions, yes, I fear you are right, father, but they still slumber in the depths of her heart. Thus far, this indwelling fire has manifested itself only in a thirst for knowledge, in admiration for the beautiful; but should she sometime chance upon the ideal of her dreams, she will be found rich in a love deep, immeasurable, passionate, self-sacrificing. Like the Indian maiden, she would climb mountains to reach her lover, or like Tegner's Maria, seek him over land and sea; but she has not yet found her Prometheus." "I have heard it said that the baron intends to marry her to Count Stjernekrantz," observed the pastor. AT MARIKLUND 477 "Yes, such a rumor has been current, but, fortu- nately for Isabella, he seems little inclined that way, if he has not very lately changed his mind. That she would rather die than give her hand to that disso- lute, sensual creature, I am thoroughly convinced. Al- though shy of her parents, her will is of the firmest, and she will not be forced into such a thing." "She has, then, no nifhience with her parents, and can accomplish nothing for your school?" asked the pastor. "Nothing, '' answered Holmer. "The baron would not pay the least attention to her if he did not repel her with scorn. If it depended on her, there were no danger, for she has more than once encouraged me to the undertaking, and has contributed books for the children. But, as I have said, her parents will do nothing for me because it is her wish. They do not understand her. She is a riddle to them, and of all her accomplishments, she possesses only one that they admire. " "And what is that?" asked the pastor. "It is her dancing. In this art, she has attained a proficiency that would make her a worthy rival of the renowned Taglioni. At the great festivals at Liljedahl, she is called upon to display her talent for the enter- tainment of the guests, and she does it with pleasure, for she is passionately fond of dancing. You should see her on such an occasion. It is as if a seraph floated on airy wings. She dances not only with her body, but with her soul. She becomes inspired, and her beautiful deep blue eyes are lighted up with an unusual glow. Tradition tells us that the elves were wont to dance for pleasure in the moonlight upon the green turf, but with Isabella it is not alone a pleasure, 'I'HE PLAY OF FATE it is not alone with her whole heart that she enters into it, but her soul is in the dance." The dialogue of the two men was here broken short by Marie, who came out to bid them come to supper. "See here, men," said she pleasantly, "you must cease your prattle. Pretty cavaliers you are, to leave us ladies wholly to ourselves. And papa has not once asked about his little Wendela to day. Will grandpa not come in and kiss his grand-daughter?" "We will be with you immediately," said the pastor rising. "But have you anything for us to eat? I am really very hungry. " "Yes, you shall have broiled ham with spinach, sweet-breads and some excellent soup." "Good, my chick, you could not have invited us to anything more tempting." Arm in arm with her father and her husband, the cheerful Marie entered the little dining-room through whose snow white curtains the evening sun was still peeping. Everything here was plain, but tasteful, sunny and cheery. The paper on the walls in all the rooms was very light, and was adorned with pictures painted by Holmer himself, who was by no means a poor artist. The furniture was simple but in neat accord with its surroundings, and in the parlor was even a piano, a bargain that Holmer had chanced upon at an auc- tion. On the table under the mirror, were a half dozen very handsome tea-cups of* Sevres porcelain. They were grouped in a half-circle around two still more beautiful, of East India make. Where Holmer had procured these, Marie did not know, for her hus- band had never informed her, but that there were memories of a something in Holmer's past life con- AT MAR1ELUND 479 nected with them, she had been led to believe, for her husband had bid her be very careful of them, and would not allow the servant girl to disturb them. The young wife did not know, however, that her husband guarded them so careful 1)' as a memento of a noble deed. The cloud that had rested upon Holmer's forehead, during the conversation with his father-in-law, soon disappeared when he found himself in the midst of the happy circle. Not long, and all were seated at the table The sweet breads were sampled, and pro- nounced delicious, though the observant and practical Louise could not resist the temptation to remark that they were not seasoned quite enough. But Marie ex- plained with a smile that her husband required no other condiments than a good appetite and good cheer. Nothing was wanting. Laughter and jests glad- dened the young and brought smiles to the lips of their seniors. Satisfied with their day, and inwardly pleased with each other, these good people separated, after the pastor had promised to come as often as possible to visit his son-in law's school, and, above all, to make an effort to dispel the clouds that from various directions threatened to burst over the school- master's head. PART IV CHAPTER I THE MEETING "Well, my dear Bergholm, the chamber is now in readiness, the meal chests have been moved, curtains put up at the windows and a sofa moved in. Do you think he will come to-day?" It was Madame Bergholm who uttered these words as she entered from the kitchen, red and sweaty as usual while employed in household duties. "Who is this that is coming?" asked Holmer, just arrived at. the parsonage on a visit. "Ah! Truly, I have neglected to tell you," said the pastor, "that we are to have a visitor, my former pupil, Maurits Sterner." "The young author who wrote the remarkable play that attracted so much attention last fall?" "The same." "It will, indeed, be interesting to make the acquaint- ance of such a person," added Holmer. "But it is strange that whenever his name is mentioned, by you or others, it seem to me I have heard it before. When or where, I cannot recall." The reader will doubtless remember that only once, and that full}' fourteen years before, had Maurits and Holmer met. The occasion had by no means been forgotten by Holmer but the name of the boy had en- tirely escaped his memory. Moreover, it did not occur to him that the boy whom he had regarded as a child 483 484 THE PLAY OF FATE of poverty, could by any possibility carve his way to the distinction now enjoyed by Maurits Sterner. As often as he heard the name, there came to him a dim recollection, but his thoughts never fell upon that pale weeping child who, under his own eyes, had been so unjustly dealt with by George and his proud and cruel father. But Pastor Bergholm, to whom Maurits had related the incidents connected with his visit to Liljedahl, knew, and had all along known, how it came that the name sounded so familiar to Holmer's ears. He had said nothing, however, anticipating no little pleasure at the surprise he was preparing for Holmer in bring- ing into his presence the bearer of the name in per- son. The pastor was much inclined to producing effects and surprises. "Would they recognize ' each other? What would they say to each other?" he asked him- self, and laughed heartily at the thought. "It will be worth while to see Holmer's astonishment when, in the distinguished dramatic author, he learns to know the little, weeping, hungry and half frozen boy to whom he once manifested such genuine sympathy." So thought the pastor, and so he had thought for many years. "Maurits will surely come to visit us sometime," he said to himself. "Until then we will withhold the disclosure." "I have no idea where you could have heard the name before becoming a visitor here. Since then, you have probably heard me or the girls mention it quite often. That you have seen him is quite probable, be- cause he was already a resident in the neighborhood when we moved to Liljedahl. He left, however, some months later, to accept a position that I had the good fortune to procure for him." THE MEETING 485 "You are more than fortunate, father, to have so much honor in your protege", " resumed Holmer. "But," continued he, "changing the subject, shall we not give the young hero something of a reception?" It was on a Sunday afternoon that this conversation took place. The door to the hall stood open, and on the spacious porch, sitting on benches, were gathered in a merry group, the four prett)' daughters of the household, engaged in a lively conversation, mostly made up of small talk, in which young girls find so much pleasure. "Do you know, Marie," said Lotta in confidential tones, "that Mr. Sjoholm, the inspector at Odensvik, is said to be engaged to Hedda Falkman?" "How did youv learn it!" exclaimed Louise eagerly, for the good Louise herself had an eye in that direc- tion. "Well, I heard it from Anna H , " said Ulla with a waggish laugh, for she knew the story was made up of whole cloth for the purpose of teasing her sister. "At least, Mr. Sjoholm danced with Hedda four times at the great ball given by the Ehrenstams last week. " "Has there been a ball at Liljedahl?" inquired Marie earnestly. "To be sure! Did you not know it? I should have thought, moreover, that Miss Isabella would have told you, inasmuch as you were not invited." "Isabella has not visited us for fourteen days," said Marie whose face had assumed a serious, almost sor- rowful expression. "It is strange! Holmer and I have always been invited heretofore when there was anything going on at Liljedahl. We must have dis- pleased the family in some manner." 486 THE PLAY OF FATE The young woman was silent the whole evening thereafter. She seemed thoughtful and downcast without knowing just why. It was as if she appre- hended some misfortune. "Louise! " called the pastor from the hall, "go up to my room and get my checker-board. And you, Ulla, run to the kitchen and ask your mamma if she has not a mug of ale to give us. It will be refreshing in this unbearable heat." Both commands were executed, and soon the pastor and his son-in-law were absorbed in an innocent game cf draughts. Meanwhile, between each king made by either, they took a hearty pull at the ale mug. The young women resumed their places on the porch, where the lively conversation was renewed. Marie did not join in it, however, but sat resting her head in her hands. The conversation was sudden!)' interrupted by the rattle of an approaching carriage. Its occupant is surely coming here, thought the girls, and in an instant they were up, and had fled to the parlor. "Papa!" cried all in one voice, "some one is coming. It must be Mr. Sterner." "Sterner!" exclaimed the pastor with unusual ani mation, dropping his checkers; "I must see if it be so." By the time the pastor reached the porch, the con- veyance had halted in the yard. A young man alighted hastily therefrom, sprang up the steps, and without a word threw himself into the pastor's outstretched arms. "Maurits, fill mi dilectissime!" exclaimed the old man, tears of joy springing to his eyes; "again I see you after long years of separation. God bless you for the honor you have done your old teacher." THE iMEETJNG 487 Brushing back the young man's dark locks, he pressed a kiss on his high white forehead. "My dear teacher, my friend, my father!" responded Maurits, almost overcome by his feelings; "what had I been but for you!" "Hush! hush! Don't speak of it, my son," said the noble pastor, lifting the young man's head. "Look around you. There are others here waiting to greet you. " Standing in the door was the good housewife wear- ing her kindliest smile. "Welcome, my dear Maurits!" said she, stretching forth her hand, which Maurits grasped and conveyed respectfully to his lips. "You will permit me to ad- dress you as of old, will you not, though you have now become a gentleman of renown?" "What a question! " answered Maurits in tones of mild reproach. "Do I deserve this? And see here," continued he, turning to the group of girls, "my child- hood playmates; but how you have grown! Do you recognize me?" "Yes, indeed," answered they, "we recognized you at once, Maurits, though you have grown greatly since we last saw you, and are much paler than eight years ago." With each, there was a friendly handshake, and Maurits experienced, at this instant, much greater pleasure than when he stood on the stage midst the roars of approval and bombarded with bouquets by the fashion and beauty of the great city of Stockholm. He was soon quite at home, and his heart beat to its utmost in gladness. In that burning desert called the world, the wan- derer would faint by the wayside, however beautiful 488 THE PLAY OF FATE the mirage presented to his vision, could he not some- times refresh himself from the springs of love. 'And you, Marie," said Maurits, after the salutations were over, "you have married since we last saw each other. Let me congratulate you with all my heart; you have secured a noble man." As Maurits uttered these words he looked up. Be- fore him, upon the threshold, stood a middle-aged man in whose face he could read the deepest surprise. It were impossible not to remember that mild, soul- ful countenance. Obeying his heart promptings, and the feeling of gratitude that filled him, Maurits rushed forward, and grasped the hand of the still more sur- prised Holmer. "O, it is he!" he cried, pressing the hand to his breast; "I cannot be wrong! That face, those gentle eyes, yes, I remember them/' "How is this, Mr. Sterner," interrupted Holmer with increased surprise, and trying to collect his thoughts; "indeed, have we met before?" "Yes, but it was long ago." Thoroughly content with himself, the pastor had stuffed his hands into his pockets, and was listening with the closest attention to every word that was in- terchanged between the two men. "Your name," resumed Holmer, "has truly sounded quite familiar to me, but I have been wholly unable to recollect when or where I made your acquaintance." "O, you will surely remember the poor, little, weep- ing boy to whose succor you came so nobly fourteen years ago, and from whom you bought a pair of East India tea-cups, after the other pair had been broken by your pupil, George Ehrenstam." "Are you he!" burst forth Hoimer. "Many times THE MEETING 489 the image of that poor child has flashed before me, but I had forgotten your name, and could not, there- fore, connect you with the circumstance. And now, that poor boy, then a dweller in a miserable hut, has become a man about whom the world is talking. You have made a noble struggle, young man, and I honor you therefor. We must be friends." ' With .all my heart!" said Maurits, shaking Holm- er's hand. "You have always occupied a warm place in my breast. I have always remembered with the liveliest gratitude what you did for me." "What did I do for you?" returned Holmer, who would fain have little said about his good deeds. "I bought from you a pair of beautiful cups which are now in my possession, and are very highly prized by me, and you talk about gratitude." "Ah! You forget under what circumstances the purchase was made. You forget that I had a mother who was on the point of death from hunger, and that you probably saved both her life and mine. You forget that you paid me double the price asked by me for my wares. " "Not another word about that affair," interrupted Holmer smiling. "I did only what thousands of others would have done. But you come from Upsala. You must give me tne latest news from there." The whole family were soon seated around the young Upsala graduate, and Maurits related everything he could think of that would probably interest them. The girls asked particularly about his meeting with the Crown Prince and his consort in the royal lodge, a matter of no little importance to them, but which Maurits had merely mentioned in his letter. He was obliged to relate all what the princess had said, 49 THE PLAY OF FATE how she was dressed, what she had in her hair, etc., etc.; and he did it all as well as he could though, to speak the truth, he had little knowledge of the sub- ject. At last the sun sank, and after they had partaken of the frugal evening meal, each went his way except Maurits, who, in response to the pastor's request, followed him to his work room. "Well, mi file," began the pastor, when Maurits was again seated in the corner of the room on the well used, leather-covered sofa, and the old man had rilled and lighted his pipe; "well, my son, we can now converse in quiet and without fear of interruption. There are, without doubt, a number of events in your life of which I am still ignorant. Will you now open your heart to your old teacher, as you agreed, and give him your full confidence? He promises to be worthy of it." "My dear friend!" said Maurits, "you shall know all. I will not withhold a single thought from you, a single action; and, God be praised, I have nothing to relate at which I need blush. What I have to say to you now, I thought best not to commit to paper. It is quite possible for a letter to fall into ir- responsible hands." "True, my boy! But let me hear what has happened to you since we last saw each other." "You are familiar with my childhood history," said Maurits; "I have informed you of my meeting with Jacob Kron, and through you, I have learned that the little girl whom I rescued from the river nine years ago is the daughter of Baron Ehrenstam, the man who was so cruel and unjust to me. You remember all that? ' THE MEETING 4QI "Yes, my son, but what has this to do with subse- quent occurrences?" "Much, as you shall soon learn." Maurits began an account of what had transpired during the several years past: Helena's history and his own pain at the fall to which he was an innocent contributor; his father's will, the alluring title and property which he had spurned in order that he might enjoy the satisfaction of carving out his own fortune and, above all, escape bearing the name borne by his mother's murderer; his struggles, his privations and, at length, his victory. All this he laid before his com- panion who, with mixed feelings of surprise, admira- tion and transport, listened to him. When he had concluded, the pastor rose and paced restlessly back and forth across the floor. "Maurits," said he at last, halting suddenly, and fixing his eyes upon him, "have you the documents with you that establish your birthright?" "Yes, here they are," answered Maurits, producing an envelope from his breast pocket. The old man grasped the package eagerly, went to the table, and devoured the contents of the papers, after which he returned them, and, in silence, renewed his pacing back and forth. "Why so still?" inquired the young man. "You do not approve my action, may be." The pastor paused. "Approve!" he exclaimed ear- nestly, "no, I admire you. I say to you, my boy, ! could not speak, unable to find words with which to express my feelings." "Ah! my dear teacher, how glad I am that you think well of my actions." "Maurits," resumed the pastor, great tears coursing 4Q2 THE PLAY OF FATE down his furrowed cheeks, "come to my arms, my son! O, why are you not my son! I love you, however, even more than though you were. Your magnanimity, your noble self-sacrifice, the victory you have achieved, I prize higher than all the praise that the world has attached to the name you now bear, the name I gave you," added he smiling. "But how wonderful are the ways of providence in this world. That you and your mother should live in a hut upon your rich brother's possessions." "Yes, and that this brother should finally deprive me of her whom I loved over all else on earth. One may well term it a play of fate." "Not so, my son," said the pastor seriously. "Such an appellation can be attached to it only by the thoughtless, or one committed to the theories of the fatalist. Fate does not play with us, my son. It is God who leads us, although his ways are sometimes incomprehensible. And how wonderfully he has pre- served you, Maurits. You ought at this moment to count yourself most fortunate among the fortunate. You are young, free, and, by means of your genius and knowledge, independent. You have gained the world's esteem and praise. You are, notwithstanding you have renounced its advantages, heir to an illustrious name and a large fortune, for I know that Count Stjernekrantz left a great deal that does not attach to the fief. In truth, Maurits, if anyone has prom- ise of a smiling future, it is you." "Ah, my good teacher, who is ever happy upon this earth? Are there not, in the lives of all, many desires, ends, whose realization we vainly seek; many struggles in which we are overcome; many sorrows, many troubles from which we cannot by any possibility THE MEETING 493 escape? I have been fortunate, I admit, but there have been times also when I have felt myself most unfortunate." "But that is unreasonable, Maurits. What really can befall you? " "I know not myself but it has sometimes seemed to me that I am threatened with the most cruel suffer- ings. My unhappiness has had its origin, probably, in my inability to believe my happiness. There is a specter standing between me and the pleasure of the present, and this specter is the future." 'Folly! Maurits, do not cross a bridge before you get to it, as some one said. But what do your gloomy forebodings say to you of the future?" "They whisper in my ears, 'Youth, you lie now as a child with a flower on the brink of a precipice. Hith- erto your passions have slumbered. Woe to you if some day they are called to life.' You must admit that such thoughts are terrible, father " "But you must control your passions with under- standing, Maurits. Thus far you have succeeded." 'Thus far, yes, for the passions I have had to keep in check have been the sensual only and such pas- sions it has been easy for me to subdue. To this, my strength has been sufficient, but I tell you, my dear friend, that if I am sometime brought under the in- fluence of that love that belongs half to earth, half to heaven; if I meet a woman who comes up to the ideal of my dreams (for even I dream at times) then woe is me if my love meets with no response. Though I am an author, ambition is yet not powerful enough to overcome all other passions. I have burned with ambition, ambition to carve out my future, and it is already accomplished. The commendation of the 494 THE PLAY OF FATE world and immortality have never possessed enough allurement to be worth the struggle necessary to their attainment. The passion ambition, is, therefore, not strong enough to outweigh that of love, to offer me a refuge in the event of an unrequited love. I must tell you, my teacher, I have many times felt a yearn- ing in my heart, a longing, a nameless longing, an emptiness, that no pleasure, no employment, is suffi- cient to satisfy. My temperament is sanguine, though I have compelled myself into the contemplative." "When the opportunity comes for you to make your choice," interrupted the pastor, "let us hope it will be a happy one. But, one thing more : Have you seen Isabella Ehrenstam since you rescued her from death in the river?" 'No, I can't say that I have seen her, for, though she was at the theater when my piece was played, she sat so that I could not see her face. But think you she knows it was I that " "Certainly not," interposed the pastor, "for she has not learned it from her proud parents, and I have never breathed it to any one, inasmuch as you so nobly requested that it should not be made public. Miss Ehrenstam, therefore, does not know the name of her rescuer, and I presume that neither the baron nor the baroness has remembered it. They were too much in- censed over your refusal to accept the reward ever to concern themselves further about you. It was a peas- ant boy who saved their child, that is all they know." "Good!" said Maurits; "that is gratifying." "But here we sit chattering," resumed the pastor, "and I, in my selfishness, forget that you must be tired after your journey. Good night, therefore, my son. In the morning we will resume our conversa- THE MEETING 495 tion. Your room is directly opposite mine. You know the little guest chamber?" Maurits pressed the old man's hand, lighted his candle and departed. When he had gone, the pastor remained standing in the middle of the floor, buried in deep thought. Maurits' narrative had given him food for the most serious reflections. "That youth," said the pastor to himself, "is the noblest representative of the young and newly awak- ened ideas that shall set the world ablaze and shake to their foundations the old prejudices. Few, perhaps none, possess such strength as his. To renounce the advantages of birth and riches, when he need only stretch forth his hand to grasp them; to have a mind exalted enough to look lightly upon the title ol count, enough courage to battle alone through life his thorny way against poverty when he need say only a word to become possessor of more than plenty. In truth, that is greatness, that is victory, worthy a Cato. Yes," con- tinued the pastor with his monologue, "this youth with the weapons of genius will be one of the most valiant promulgators of those ideas. He will enlist the masses in opposition to the prevailing opinions against ignorance and darkness. He will become a knight bearing the torch of intelligence, provided The pastor did not express his thought. Slowly he placed his pipe upon the table, went to the book- shelf and took down his Bible, in which he always read a chapter every evening before he retired to rest. This time his prayer was most earnest, warmer than usual. He prayed for the youth who had been his pupil, now his guest. CHAPTER II REMINISCENCES It was the evening following the occurrences related in the preceding chapter. The pastor's family was assembled on the front porch. The same persons were present as on the evening before, except Holmer, who was at home, busied with his pupils. Marie, his young wife, was of the party, however. An elegant traveling carriage dashed by the parson- age, and soon disappeared in a cloud of dust. "Whose carriage was that?" asked Maurits. "It was from Liljedahl," answered Marie. "The occupants are probably on their way to Count S 's, at Broby, where they intend to spend a few days." "How fortunate," said Maurits. "I can go while they are away and visit the beautiful estate. I have been there before, I remember, but that was a long time since. They have a most beautiful park, I am told." "A more than beautiful one," said Marie. "You ought surely to visit it, for it is well worth seeing. It is grandly laid out, and there are arbors, groves, beautiful walks, babbling brooks and little lakes in great number. If you visit the place, give the gar- dener something, and he will, doubtless, admit you to the garden which is quite as beautiful as the park. 496 REMINISCENCES 497 In the greenhouse, you may easily fancy yourself un- der a tropical sky." "I will go at once," said Maurits rising. "I have not yet visited the spot were my mother's hut stood. It has given place, I presume, to an Italian villa. Count Stjernekrantz had planned to build one before I left." "But he gave up the scheme," said the pastor. "I don't know just why. Your mother's hut is still standing. "' "O, my God! What do you tell me!" exclaimed Maurits. "And who is its present occupant?" "No one. It has long been deserted, and a new cottage has been erected not far therefrom. It is fast falling to decay, however." "Ah! But I would see it again," cried Maurits. "Let no one follow me, I wish to be alone." Every tree, every bush by the wayside was an acquaintance of his childhood. The leaves stirred by the evening breeze whispered recollections of days gone by, ad the wavelets in the deep blue lake, glis- tening in the sunshine, smiled him glad welcome. The tree under which he sat and read "Semiramis;" the mill by whose wheel he came so near being crushed; the bridge from which Isabella plunged into the stream below all these objects were brough again to his observation, causing the chords of mem ory to vibrate vigorously. The young man wandered dreamily along, reaching, at last, the path leading to his mother's hut, the gray walls of which were now visible through the leaves. Trembling with emotion, Maurits approached the deserted dwelling. The door stood open. The windows had been taken away, and the wind thus had full play among the naked walls. 498 THE PLAY OF FATE A feeling of veneration took possession of him as he entered the single room of the hut; the room in which he had sat so often by the side of his mother, mingling his tears with hers; she who loved him as never mother loved before. The room was empty, the fireplace half torn down, and the plaster wholly gone from the ceiling. An old rotten chair, with but three legs remaining, was the only article of furniture now left. No one had thought it worth while to carry 'it away. Maurits recognized it at once. It was an old acquaintance that spoke the language of reminis- cences; that whispered sweet words of its former owner. Maurits neared the dear article, tears dimming his eyes, and pressed a kiss upon its arm. Inspecting it closely, he observed an A and an cut into it with a knife, and just below these an M and an S, these all surrounded by a ring intended to represent a wreath. Maurits wept afresh as he contemplated his own childish handiwork. He did not attempt to sit on the chair, it was too holy, but spreading his handkerchief on the hearthstone, he there Seated him- self. "There stood her bed," said Maurits to himself; "there is her bureau, where she preserved the few mementoes of him, her much loved husband. Here was her work-table where she sat that terrible night, I shall never forget it, when she became blind. Holy spirit!" continued he, after a short pause, "surely you are hovering over your son at this instant. In- visible to each other, our souls meet, nevertheless, at the point where time borders on eternity. Nearer to me you cannot come, nearer to you I cannot go, there- fore we meet on the border. 'Love beareth all things, hopeth all things, enduretn all things,' says Paul. REMINISCENCES 499 How beautifully you carried out, during your life, in double measure, as wife and mother, the great apos- tle's words. Your life was a martyrdom, and your dying words confirmed your faith, blessing with pale lips your murderer. And I have dared to hate, to curse, to complain; but thanks to your memory, mother, my hate has been changed to love, my curses to blessings, my grumblings to submissiveness. My dark doubts, the tormentors of my childhood and my youth, have been dispersed by the recollection of your death, by the thought of what you suffered and forgave, strengthened by your faith; and when in dark hours they now sometimes follow me, when I look- back upon my illusions crushed, the injustice suffered, and the spirit of bitterness rises within me, it requires but a thought of you, my mother, to drive away the demon." Maurits ceased, and rose from his seat. Yet another glance he cast around the deserted room, at the naked walls, the blackened roof, then quitted the place sacred to the memory of earlier days. CHAPTER III THE AFFINITIES When Maurits, resuming his walk, reached the lane leading to Liljedahl, he turned to the left and followed the shady path toward the stately mansion whose white facade glistened through the leaves. Thus far he had met no one, but upon nearing the dwelling, he encountered an elderly man carrying a water can in his hand. "My friend, ' said Maurits, "are you the gardener here?" "Rightly guessed, sir." "Good! I am aware that the master is absent, but will you allow me to visit the garden and park?" "Willingly, though I have no time to accompany you. If you will pass through yonder gate, it will bring you to the garden. At the end thereof is another gate opening into the park. Your name, if you please, sir. It is my custom to write down the names of all who visit Liljedahl on such errands as yours." Maurits gave his name. The gardener continued his way, and Maurits soon reached the designated gate, and passed through into the garden. Our pen fails us when we would attempt to describe the beauties and grandeur of the place. Everything was enchanting, like the garden of Haroun el Raschid in the Arabian nights. On every hand the beautiful 500 THE AFFINITIES 50! was blended Avith the romantic, and art with nature in all her freedom and wildness. Here was a large bed of fragrant flowers; there a Chinese pagoda; here a Venus with the graces hewn from white marble, guarding a basin into which a fountain rained its crystal drops, and there again, from between huge moss-grown rocks, piled picturesquely upon each other, gurgled a spring of pure, cold water. It was, as Marie had declared it, heavenly. When Maurits had inspected the garden to his sat- isfaction, he bent his way toward the small gate open- ing into the park. The slope of the park toward the Wener, whose banks marked its further boundary, was, if possible, even more beautiful, more perfect in its character, than the garden. The trees were, for the most part, tall oaks interspersed here and there with birch and alder. The park itself was of considerable magnitude, divided by a river from which a number of canals had been dug, leading like silver threads in all directions, forming here and there little islands reached by pretty rustic bridges, and upon which had been constructed shady arbors whose foliage was so dense that neither sunshine nor cloud could penetrate. Maurits had wandered around this park for some time, almost fancying himself in an Eden, and was on the point of returning, for the sun was fast ap- proaching the western horizon, when his attention was attracted by a pretty little island which had thus far escaped his notice, and upon which he detected an arbor apparently more beautiful than any he had yet visited. "I have still sufficient time to visit this place," thought he, and bent his steps in the direction of the 5O2 THE PLAY OF FATE island, "but I must go home then, that is certain." He passed over the little bridge, neared the arbor, and pushed aside the bushes hanging before the en- trance, intending to enter and rest a few minutes on the soft moss bench sure to be found within. But his eyes had hardly penetrated the semi-gloom when he was brought to a standstill as if suddenly rooted to the spot. He knew not whether he was awake or dreaming. This sight met his astonished gaze: Half reclining on the moss bench, her head resting on her hand, was a young woman more beautiful than the Houris of the Moslem's paradise. Her eyes were fixed on the pages of a book lying before her, which she seemed to be reading. It was as if a burden of lead held Maurits fast -to the spot. Delicacy inclined him to retire as quietly and unobserved as he had come, but another feeling, more powerful, held him as if fettered by invisible chains. Speechless, immovable, hardly daring to draw his breath, he stood with his eyes fixed upon the beautiful object which seemed to him like a vision from dream-land and which he was afraid he might, in the next instant, see dissolve and vanish. From where he stood he was afforded the best of opportuni- ties to see her, except her eyes which remained fixed upon the pages of the book. Her long, raven black hair hung loosely over her lily-white shoulders; her figure, slender, but perfectly formed, was worthy a Canova's chisel, and upon her sweet coral lips could be distinguished a half mourn- ful smile that lent to the idealistic, beautiful features an expression such as Maurits had never before seen on the face of any woman, causing his heart to pul- sate with unusual violence. This expression revealed THE AFFINITIES 503 the enthusiast, the dreamer, a soul akin to his own, and this charmed him much more than the symmetry cf form and feature, surpassingly beautiful though they were. Isabella, for it was she, was reading Jean Paul's "Titan." Her soul was wandering at the instant with Albano along the terraces of Isola Bella. She saw the sun rise from the bosom of JLake Maggiore, saw the snow-tipped peaks of the Alps glisten in its rays, and the picture the poet would portray loomed up before her inner eyes. "O Albano!" murmured the young woman softly, "where shall I find your counterpart!" At this instant she looked up and her glance met that of Maurits. For a second they contemplated each other. The blood rushed to her cheeks. Nimble as a gazelle, she sprang from her seat, and her dark eyes sank to the ground. That glance, though quick as lightning, had sealed the fate of both. Two congenial souls had met, and both realized it at the same instant, for their pulses flew as if impelled by some electric force. Maurits did not flee. He guessed, he knew intui- tively who the young woman was. "It is she," said he in a low voice, and to himself, yet loud enough to be heard, "it is Isabella Ehren- stam. " The young girl looked up again, this time with sur- prise and wounded feelings easily read in her eyes. "Sir," said she, a little discomposed, "you are very bold. Who are you?" "My dear miss," said Maurits, bowing, "you will surely overlook my presumption. My coming was quite accidental, and I was not aware that you were 504 THE PLAY OF FATE here until your presence chained me to the ground. Something told me at once who you were, though it is Icng, very long, since I saw you last." "Indeed!" said Isabella, with augmented surprise, "have we ever seen each other before? Your counte- nance seems familiar to me, but I cannot recall a meeting." "Nevertheless, my lady," interrupted Maurits, ''I am the possessor of a talisman that will, perhaps, re- fresh your memory. " "Of what do you speak!" cried Isabella. "This," said Maurits, unfastening from his neck, and handing to the young woman, the ornament that formerly belonged to her, and that Maurits had for so many years carried next his breast. Isabella glanced at it. "My God! " she burst forth, "I have seen this orna- ment before. I wore it as a child, but lost it. I am not sure just where. How did it come into your possession?" "It became fastened to my clothes when I was strug- gling in the water, holding in my arms a little girl whom I was fortunate enough to rescue when on the point of drowning." "And I was the girl!" cried Isabella, rushing toward the young man. "O, I remember it well!" "Yes, you were the girl. " "We are then, old acquaintances," said Isabella with a pretty smile, stretching forth her hand. "You saved my life, but when it comes upon me that I am ignorant of your name, I blush for my ungratefulness. My parents, whom I have often asked, were unable to enlighten me upon the subject; for you went your way, they informed me, without making your name THE AFFINITIES 505 known, and refused to accept any reward for your noble deed." "O, yes," said Maurits, with a scarcely perceptible smile, 'it is true I would not accept the few shillings your father proffered me." "And I remember that I endeavored to detain you, but that you pushed me gently aside, and ran away. " "Yes, that is true also." "And you have never since spoken to either of my parents? " "Never. " ''You have through all these years declined the grat- itude of my parents and myself? Though I have not known your name, I have always given you place in my prayers. " "You have once heard me speak my name, however, and I am quite certain that you have not forgotten it." "When and where!" exclaimed Isabella in surprise. "It was on the same occasion upon which you gave me this- flower," answered Maurits, smiling, as he took from his pocket book a rose that he had seen Isabella throw to the stage on the evening that his play was presented, and which he had picked up and preserved. Isabella's curiosity was roused to the utmost. "You jest, sir," said she, "I have never seen you until now except on the occasion of your rescuing me from the water, and I gave you no rose then, I am sure. Explain yourself. " "This rose," resumed Maurits, "you threw to the stage of the royal theater of Stockholm on the even- ing of September 2oth of last year when a young au- thor and a young actress made their first appearance before the public.'' 5c6 THE PLAY OF FATE "What!" interrupted Isabella earnestly, "is it possi- ble that you are that author?" "I am, and I must thank you for your expression of approval." "O, I know your name then, Mr. Sterner," said Isabella with flashing eyes. "How many times I have longed to make your acquaintance. Your genius charmed me. I must tell you that for many weeks my dreams were filled with 'The Amber Heart.' But then, " interrupting herself, as her eyes fell upon the ornament which she held in her hand, 'The Amber Heart' is there any connection between it and ?" "The one you hold in your hand," interrupted Mau- rits. "Not other than that it gave title to my play, as 1 named my heroine after you." Maurits would not wound Isabella's feelings with an arraignment of her father, wherefore, he was care ful not to reveal the history of the trinket. "Named after me!" cried Isabella, blushing; "you have then kept in your mind all through, Mr. Sterner, the little girl whom you rescued from a watery grave?" "Always. " "And you have worn this insignificant trinket next your heart all these years?" "Yes, without so much as once removing it." The young woman paused in embarrassment, and fixed her eyes upon the ground. Maurits contemplated her in silence. What were their thoughts at this instant? "Truly, sir," resumed Isabella merrily, "you have presented yourself here in a very unusual manner, introducing yourself to a young woman not only as her rescuer fro*n death, but also as a genius and an author known and much ad-mired by her. It is enough, more than enough, to arouse her interest." THE AFFINITIES 507 "I have not presented myself thus, let me assure you, for the purpose of exciting your interest. I sought only tc offer a plausible excuse for my bold- ness in daring to address you. I hoped for your in- dulgence. " "O, sir, how can you speak of indulgence? Do I not owe you my life?" 'I should never have mentioned the fact of our early meeting had I not felt it my duty to return to you the amber heart which I have preserved so many years, cherishing the hope that I might some day meet you and restore it." "You wish me to keep it then?" inquired the young woman. "Why not? It belongs to you." ' O, how much I thank you! I will keep it as a memento of my danger, and my noble rescuer; a me- mento of a day I can never forget." Ma-urits bowed in silence. "But tell me," continued Isabella, "are you here as a wayfarer, or are you visiting in the neighborhood?" "I am the guest of my former teacher, Pastor Berg- holm," answered Maurits. Up to this time, the actors in this scene had re- mained standing. Isabella now seated herself on the moss bench, and invited Maurits to a place at her side. The young man obeyed. 'How long do you intend to remain with the good pastor?" inquired Isabella. "It is uncertain. A month or so perhaps." "My parents are absent just now," resumed Isabella, "I cannot, therefore, invite you to accompany me home, but I hope, and it is my earnest desire, that you will honor us with a visit soon. Papa and mamma 5O3 THE PLAY OF FATE are expected home to-morrow evening. You must come the day after. May I look for you?" "I will do myself the honor if you can answer for one thing," said Maurits, smiling. "And it is what? " 'That I may escape all expressions of gratitude for the service it was my good fortune to render you when a child. It is my wish that not a word be said about it. Will you promise me this, Miss Isabella?" "That is a strange request," was the answer. "How- ever, if we may not see you short of these conditions, I must consent. " "Thank you." "Now I have something to ask from you, "said Isa- bella. "I wish you to satisfy my curiosity, or, better expressed perhaps, the interest you arouse in me. Tell me something of your life. I would know more of one who, from a peasant hut and the utmost pov- erty, has fought his way up to the topmost round of fame; for you must know, Mr. Sterner, that I recog- nize no other heights than those to which science, art and virtue lead, and to these you have attained." 'Not at all, my dear miss," said Maurits blushing. "I have not attained them, I have only struggled weakly to reach them. But on this point," added he smiling, "if I may credit report, you have ventured into the same paths, searching for the same objects. We stand on an equality with each other, psrhaps. " "Ah, no!" said Isabella, "you over-rate my acquire- ments very much. True, I love the beautiful. To me success and art are much more to be prized than riches or the lustre of birth. To me also nobility of soul is the only true nobility, but notwithstanding all my eager efforts, I know almost nothing I am THE AFFINITIES 509 only a weak woman who has skimmed over much, ab- sorbed a little. I am not a genius such as you, Mr. Sterner. We are wandering from our subject, how- ever. " "You wished to hear something of my early life?" "Yes, if I do not presume too much." "You have been informed that the boy who rescued you from the river was nothing more than an ignorant peasant lad. Is it not so?" "Yes," responded Isabella, blushing and embarrassed, "so I was informed. I was never able to get any other answer to my inquiries concerning you than that it was a peasant boy who rescued me, and that nothing had been heard about him since. I was in- formed also that diligent search had been made, but without result. " "It was your parents who answered you thus?" asked Maurits in a tone whose bitterness Isabella could not fail to see. Isabella now understood all. With a knowledge of her father's severe and tyrannical temper, she saw readily that Maurits had wounded his pride, and that the baron had treated his daughter's rescuer wjth scorn and contempt. She blushed for her father and with downcast eyes she answered Maurits' question: "Yes, it was my parents who said so. If they have done you injustice, as I am almost afraid they have, forgive them for my sake at least," added she, fasten- ing her dark blue eyes with an almost pleading look upon the young man. "My dear Miss Ehrenstam, your parents have in- deed done me injustice, great injustice, but I am not one in whose heart bitterness is everlasting. By my mother's memory, the most sacred of all to me, I as- 510 THE PLAY OF FATE sure you that there remains not a single feeling of resentment in my breast at the wrongs I have suffered." "I believe you, Mr. Sterner, and in evidence there- of, will you visit us when my parents have returned?" "Yes, I promise you." "But now," resumed Isabella, "tell me something of your childhood, of your mother. See, we are coming to be as brother and sister who have found each other after a long separation. You must be somewhat in- terested in me because of having saved my life, and I am in you in gratitude, and this bond of friendship ought to beget confidence in each other. So say my feelings at any rate." "You are right. I regard you already as more than a friend, as a sister." "And I regard you as a brother." The word did not come easily, but it came, finally, though it caused the blood to mount to Isabella's cheeks. Maurits began the story of his childhood, and of his mother's life. He spoke of her sufferings, her struggles, her sacrifices. Isabella's eyes were dimmed with tears as he described in his melodious tones the relation that existed between mother and son. Mau- rits passed over everything relating to the parts played in his life history by Baron Ehrenstam and Jacob Kron. Neither did he reveal the secret of his birth, having resolved never to avail himself of the advantages it offered him. He would, therefore, that it should be known to no others than his friends whom he had already made confidants, and on whose silence he could depend. What he permitted the young woman to hear, however, was sufficient to enable her, with her rich imagination, to form an opinion of the young THE AFFINITIES 51! man's character. She respected him already in her heart, and to this was now added her interest and sympathy. The evening shadows were now growing longer and longer, and this confidential, but dangerous tete-a-tete in the bower, to whose pleasures both had resigned themselves without thought of conventionalities, must soon come to an end. An hour had flitted by faster than if it had wings. Maurits rose to go. Isabella extended her hand, and again their eyes met. Isabella's hand trembled; her heart beat vio- lently. She felt instinctively that she stood at the turning point of her destiny, and upon her cheeks, the fresh roses gave place quickly to the snow white of the lily. She responded finally to the pressure of Maurits' hand, and said, with a slight tremor in her voice: "Farewell, Mr. Sterner. We shall soon meet again, shall we not? You will come to-morrow evening? ;l "Yes, I will come." "And be assured of my ever enduring gratitude for the much you have done for me. O, I can never dis- charge my obligations! " "Not so, Miss Isabella. It is I who am under obligations to you for the happiest few minutes of my lifetime. I shall cherish the recollection of this even- ing when I became acquainted with you and learned to know what treasures are stored in your mind. Yet a word," added he quickly; "is it necessary that you show the amber heart, or speak of it to your parents?" "Certainly not, if it is your wish that I do not, "said Isabella with some hesitation. "I wish it, truly." "Very well, it is granted. No one shall see it." 512 'THE PLAY OF FATE "Thank you." Yet again, Maurits pressed the young woman's hand, and departed, leaving Isabella standing at the entrance to the arbor. She watched him until his tall manly figure had quite disappeared among the trees, then, following slowly in the same path, she passed through the park and garden to the house. His heart filled with indescribable feelings, feelings such as he had never before experienced, Maurits leached the parsonage. He had seen her again, the girl for whom he had so many years experienced a romantic love without know- ing her. Time had not blotted from his memory the child he had snatched from death. Something had whispered to him long ago that she would one day recompense him fully for the injustice he had suffered at the hands of her proud and heartless father. And how did he find her now, at the age of eighteen? Everything he had fancied her; the ideal of his dreams; the ideal to which he had always given the name of Isabella, endowed not alone with physical beauty, and in the richest measure, but also with the sweet graces of innocence, and possessing such lofty qualities of mind, so cultured, so genuine and yet so unassuming, as to surprise and charm him. "How strange!" thought he, "that such a beautiful flower should have grown in such uncongenial soil; that a woman so cold, so proud, and a father so heart- less and tryannical should be the parents of such a daughter. But true, she has been educated by Holmer, who imparted to her all of his own noble and lofty qualities, and who has enriched her understanding from the treasury of his own versatility of genius. She THE AFFINITIES 513 has been neglected, held back, ill-used, may be, by her parents, who did not understand her, and she has fled to her noble teacher for consolation. And he, to make up for the bitter in her everyday life, has em- bellished her mind with his wealth of knowledge, and knowledge she possesses, in richer abundance than any woman I have ever met. I must see her again. I must visit her in her home in order to inquire into the situation of affairs between her and her parents, and also, to know how the baron will receive me." Busied with such thoughts, Maurits reached the par- sonage. CHAPTER IV ISABELLA It was late in the evening. The lamp was still burning in Isabella's work-room where she might have been seen bending over a writing-desk. This room, though simply furnished, did honor to its occupant, more particularly in the articles there gathered bearing witness to her habits and occupa- tions. Here stood an elegant piano; there an easel on which was resting a half-finished painting, and on the other hand a roomy bookcase filled with volumes of the choicest works of every age, from the Greek poets to the later philosophers. With a zeal that recognized no obstacle, the young girl had plunged into studies much beyond those of the ordinary woman. The dead languages were as familiar to her as those of her own day, and even in- to the mazes of philosophy, Holmer had found him- self compelled to lead her restless spirit, which scorned the pomp and glitter of this world. The faint light of the lamp fell upon Isabella's beau- tiful face, whose dazzling complexion was made still more beautiful by a white night dress draped in grace- ful folds around a figure that seemed to be borrowed half from Juno, half from Hebe. She wrote in her diary, her only confidant, and these were the words that flowed from her swiftly gliding pen: 514 ISABELLA 515 "A presentiment tells me that 1 have found to-day what I have hitherto sought in vain, a mind in har- mony with my own. I know no words that will de- scribe the feeling that came over me when he pressed my hand, when his glance rested on mine. I felt at once ill at ease and happy. Was it, perhaps, only gratitude to the rescuer of my life? I sat in the park reading 'Titan.' Albano's character charmed me, and I sighed longingly for the sight of his counterpart (as one always longs to see the beautiful ideal figure instinct with life) and when I looked up, behold he was before rne, "He is like, and yet so unlike, that hateful creature to whom my parents would sell me. How similar the finely chiseled, symmetrical and striking features, the Grecian nose and high white forehead, and yet how different. It is the expression that makes the distinction, for while the count's face is repugnant to me, Maurits Sterner' s seems to possess an almost supernatural beauty, in which genius and virtue are clearly reflected. "And when he talked of his mother, whom he loved so dearly, how my heart was moved! What a model son he must have been! "Ah, why was I almost a stranger to my parents, denied the happiness, the joy, of having a father and a mother to love! My parents do not understand my disposition, they thrust me coldly from them when I approach them with affection. No wonder that the love within me has frozen. "Even he has suffered injustice at their hands cold ingratitude; it is so long ago that I can hardly recol. lect the incidents, but I remember that' my preserver departed from us in no good humor. 51 6 THE PLAY OF FATE "It is quite certain they offended him. My father offered him money, perhaps, and such pride in a 'beg- gar young one' he could not understand. But I un- derstand it. Such a deed as his deserved a friendly look, a kindly word, and he received neither of these. "This young man is to come here in a day or two. I have so persuaded him. It may be I have done wrong in this. "It will be an embarrassing meeting to my parents. They will blush at the thought of their ingratitude, and my father, just because of this feeling, will receive him coldly, without doubt; perhaps, offend him anew. "But, no, that he cannot do. He is austere, cold, proud, but he is, nevertheless, a man of the world, and not wanting in tact and common courtesy. Such a person as Maurits Sterner is in every regard entitled to attention and respect. If my father should feel inclined to treat him otherwise, he will fear public criticism. I may be at ease, therefore. The young author will be treated politely at least." Isabella ceased writing. Laying aside her pen, she rose and went to the piano. But the fantasias she played were disjointed and freakish. By turns melt- ing away in sweet adagio like the first-born sigh of love, by turns stormy and wild like a cry of anguish. The hours sped by, the light went out, and when Isabella cast a glance through the window, the eastern sky was already colored with the roses of the coming morn. The day began to dawn. She closed the piano, went to the window, opened it and allowed the fresh morning breeze to play among her long dark tresses. ISABELLA 517 Was she not in that instant, with her dark eyes, deep blue as the sky of night, locks dark as the night itself, and cheeks rosy with the kiss of the morning zephyrs, like the new-born day stepping out of yonder glowing sky? She had passed the night without sleep. It was not the first. Souls such as hers are not disposed to allow the body rest. They are awake even during the body's slumber, for their fire is too strong to be restrained by fetters. At times upon the wings of thought, again upon the billows of her feelings, the exuberance of life that welled up within her sought contentment; and the hot blood that coursed through her veins had always flowed cooler and calmer when her mind, wearied with investigations, buried her, as now, in the waves of sound, or the sea of her own reflections. But now, now, it availed her nothing. It was no longer blood that flowed in her veins. It was streams of fire whose consuming heat she vainl) r sought to allay with the chilly morning breezes. Her heart beat with apprehension and fear. She felt that like the coming day, breaking over the slumbering grandeur of the landscape before her, a new life was unfolding within her. So was her spirit first lighted by the mild rays of the morning of love. Will this new day be cloudy or fair? Will this sun, hardly lighted, sink again into the gloom of the valley of death, or will it sometime shine bright and clear from love's zenith? Isabella retired to rest, and slept late into the morn- ing, but her slumbers were unquiet and as light as a bird's. A noise caused by the chambermaid, who, having 5l8 THE PLAY OF FATE tiptoed into the room to see if her mistress was awake, stumbled against a table, awoke her instantly. "Forgive me, miss," said the girl upon seeing Isa- bella sit up in bed, "forgive me for waking you. I did not d) it intentionally." "It is of no consequence. What time is it?" "Half past seven." "I'll get up at once, then. Go out and order the coachman to have the carriage in readiness at nine, I am going to Marielund this forenoon." "As you will, miss." Anna departed, and Isabella rose and dressed herself without awaiting her return. A carefully selected and becoming attire more than ever contributed to-day to the girl's natural beauty, and, when Anna had returned and dressed her hair, she surveyed herself in the mirror and smiled at the bewitching figure she pre- sented. "Ah, me, how grand my lady, who usually pays such little heed to her looks, has made herself to-day. Truly, I have never seen you look so beautiful as now, add you seem to be so happy that it does one's soul good to see you. " "Do you mean it?" said Isabella blushing. "That pleases me. " "Strange, too, these words, " resumed Anna. "Here- tofore, I have always been cut short when I have ventured to express my opinion about my mistress' looks. 'You may think you give me pleasure with such flattery, but I am not one to attach any value to beauty,' so you have always said, and you have always attired yourself in the simplest manner, but now " "Now," said Isabella laughing, "you are altogether too talkative, my dear Anna. I am going out. Is it ISABELLA 519 strange that I should attire myself with more than usual care? But go now." "Ah, ha!" muttered Anna to herself as she tripped down stairs, "I understand it all. T saw her yesterday t ilkiag with a handsome young rnan in the park: hut I'jl say nothing, not I. It was fun to make her blush a little. Well, well, her time will come some day." Such were Anna's thoughts. Liberated from her talkative waiting-maid, she drew from her purse the little amber heart that Maurits had returned to her the evening before, untied it from the silken cord to which it was fastened, and attached it to a gold chain she was wearing around her neck, and the trinket disappeared between silk and alabaster. "There," said Isabella softly, "there you shall rest until I die. Holy memories live with you." She would have said blood)' memories had she known but she did not. Maurits had forgotten, or attached no significance to Jacob's warning: "Who- so wears this trinket will be pursued by a terrible fate." Anna returned for the third time. "It is nine o'clock, and the carriage is at the door," said she. "Very well. But let me see, I have changed my mind. I think I prefer to walk. The weather is beau- tiful, and besides, it is only a little way. Give me my cape, parasol and hat." Anna executed the commands. "Shall I tell the coachman to unhitch?" asked she. "Certainly, since you hear that I intend to walk." Accustomed to her mistress' changes of mind, she made no answer. The horses were unhitched, and Isabella set out on foot. 520 THE PLAY OF FATE "So, ho! " said Anna to herself, "she hopes to meet him on the way. That is why she would not drive." After a walk of a quarter of an hour, Isabella reached the residence of her former teacher. She entered and proceeding to the dining-room, found Marie employed with the preparation of breakfast. "Good morning, Marie dear!" said Isabella cheerily. "You are, as usual, engaged in house-work, I see." "Ah, Isabella! cried Marie in surprise, "you did not go, then, with the family to Broby? " "No, I had no desire to make the horrid journey. You know that I very much prefer to escape such affairs. I was not designed for a salon, Marie." "You! How you talk! If our young cavaliers heard you, they would swear by their hopes of bless- edness that you are just the one to most adorn a salon." "Yes, they are all very much interested in me, or to speak correctly, in my prospective wealth. Were it not for this, you would hear what a fright they would pronounce me. But is your good man at home, Marie? " "Yes, he is in his room, writing. Be seated, my dear Isabella, and tell me how Holmer and I fell into disfavor at Liljedahl. " "Into disfavor?" inquired Isabella, seemingly sur- prised. "I don't understand you." "I heard that you had a great party some days ago, and, contrary to custom, we were not invited. It has distressed me, for I have felt the circumstance had to do with this long interval between your visits. I have feared that in some way Holmer has displeased your father." "Ah!" said Isabella, "I fear that you are right, ISABELLA 521 Marie. My father cannot reconcile himself to Holmer's school. But do not distress yourself unnecessarily. Let us hope the cloud will be removed." "God grant it!" sighed Marie. "But what objections has your father to our poor school?" "Let us leave this subject until another time. I have something else concerning which I would speak with you. " "What is it?" "Are you acquainted with the young author of 'The Amber Heart?'" "Maurits Sterner? Certainly. Have I never in- formed you that we are acquainted since childhood?" "Never. " "But we are, nevertheless. My father was his teacher." 1 I know, I know," said Isabella, "and during that time he saved my life. Have you never heard speak of it, Marie?" "Never. I was not aware that your life had ever been in peril," answered Marie, amazed. "Yes, it was. I was about to drown in the river near the bridge, and Mr. Sterner, then a boy, sprang into the water and rescued me." "It is strange that I never heard of it from you or him. " "I was made aware for the first time yesterday that he had done me this service, and he, on his part, has been too proud to seek praise, or to even speak of it. " 'Just like him," said Marie, "he is one of nature's noblemen. But from whom did you get an account of it?" "From himself." "Indeed! You have met him then?" J22 THE PLAY OF FATE "Yes, he surprised me in the park as I sat in the arbor. We soon became acquainted, you can readily understand." "Certainly, with such 'antecedentia,' as my father used to say. But what do you think of him?" "O, I'll suspend my judgment until later. I must go up to your husband no-w. You will not be jealous, I hope?" "It would not be worth while," said Marie pleas- antly. "But you must not fall in love with Mr. Sterner, for him you can never get." Isabella turned shortly upon the threshold. "No," said she with forced calmness, "he is already engaged, perhaps?" "No, not that I am aware of. I was thinking only of the difference between the proud name Ehrenstam, and the humble Sterner." "Do you know, Marie, that you are a little goose! Who in the world has thought of falling in love? "said Isabella humorously. "Not I! But I must be off to your husband to torment him awhile. " Isabella sprang up the stairs, and entered a small gable room where Holmer was found sitting at his writing table. He looked up quickly, and upon recognizing his former pupil, rose in glad surprise and extended his hand. "Well, well, this is an unexpected pleasure! " began Holmer. "It is nearly three weeks since my pretty miss has done us such an honor." "Ah! my dear teacher and friend," said Isabella, seat- ing herself, "you know more than well that it is not my fault My father has forbidden my coming here as he is angry with you, Holmer. But to-day I was left ISABELLA 523 alone at home, my parents having gone to Brobv, and I have availed myself of the opportunity, as you see, to make you a visit." "Good!" said Holmer. "Shall we resume the in- terpretation of the tragedy of ^Eschylus, or, may be, you prefer that we take up Milton's Paradise Lost?" "Neither." said Isabella. "I have so much else of which I would speak to you, that I fear we must alhw the p^ets to remain on the shelves for this tiir.e. "You are my on\y friend, my only confidant, Holmer I have never concealed from you a single thought, a single feeling that arose within me. I have found no one among my own sex in whom I could have con- fidence; for all women hate me because of what they term my pedantic learning, my fancied superiority. My parents look upon me as a little queer, and despise me lor what they term my plebeian tendencies, for which they blame you, Holmer. You knew it, and you know, too, that from my infancy I have concen- trated all my friendship, my gratitude, my affection upon you. " "And you know, too, that I have never betrayed your confidence, Isabella," said Holmer; "that I have by word and deed endeavored to show myself worthy of your friendship, as well since we were separated, as before when I was your teacher. But why do you bring up these things just now?" "Why!" broke forth the blushing Isabella, "O Holmer, because I wish to give you yet a better proof of my confidence; because I may soon need the benefit of your advice and wisdom. New feelings are storm- ing my heart. " She ceased abruptly, and her glance sank to the floor in embarrassment. 524 THE PLAY OF FATE "\Vell, Isabella, go on," said Holmer. "I suspect your secret already. You love for the first time. " Isabella was silent. "And the object of your love, the more than blessed man, who is he?" "O Holmer! I have seen him twice only. Once ten years ago, and again yesterday." "Twice only!" said Holmer, shaking his head; "Isa- bella, that is something extraordinary. You have prob- ably allowed yourself to be carried too far upon a momentary impression. It may leave you as quickly as it came." "No, no, Holmer. Love, the true, the eternal, must be such as I have dreamed. It is born in a minute, and ablaze at the first meeting of two con- genial souls. It is not slow in its calculation, cold, deliberate, exacting. It is a lightning flash that springs forth and in a second transforms the heart. O Holmer! You who have explored the paths of knowl- eJge, who have measured the heights and depths of human life, do you dare deny the great, the funda- mental truth that men call affinity of souls?" "I do not dispute it," said Holmer with a melan- choly smile, "but I am calmer, more inclined to prove things than you, Isabella. This feeling may, indeed. be stable, it ma}' also be false. One cannot know an affinity at a glance, First impressions are deceptive, and one should take heed thereof if he would escape lamenting his illusions. Believe me, the soul does not reveal itself at a glance. Time alone can bring out its full expression." "You must forgive me," interrupted Isabella ear- nestly, "if I do not agree with you on this point. I do not believe that it is always the case that congenial ISABELLA 525 souls know each other at first sight, but I do believe firmly that it can sometimes be so, and concerning myself, I feel that the impression I experienced can- not lie." "And who is it that has made this impression upon you?" asked Holmer, interrupting her. Isabella related the circumstances of her meeting with Maurits the evening before. She repeated the conversation that had passed between them with the exception of that relating to the amber heart. This the young man had requested that she keep to herself. "And you love this man?" asked Holmer when she had concluded. "I do not say that I love him, but I say that he is the only one whose glance has made such an impres- sion upon me, caused to vibrate in my heart chords that no other one has so much as set in motion. Is this love? I do not know, but I do know that it is not alone gratitude to the rescuer of my life, or ad- miration for a genius such as his." "And you intend him to visit Liljedahl?" resumed Holmer. "Could I well do otherwise?" "But do you not realize, my poor child, that you had better avoid the danger of another meeting? The passion once aglow in your breast will blaze with consuming violence, will grow to a tropical heat more quickly with you than with others, and you are putting yourself in the way of the flames thereof. And, too, before he has responded to your passion with one equally strong, equally fervent. What will the con- sequences be? Unhappiness for both." "And why unhappiness?" "Have you forgotten that Maurits Sterner is of the 526 THE PLAY OF FATE common class; that your parents would rather bury you alive than permit your union with a man not of the nobility?" "I have not thought of this, my friend, I have thought only of the present time. I believe in a prov- idence, and leave the future to it." "Do you know, my child, that if one casts himself blindly into danger and says, 'I believe in a provi- dence,' he opposes providence rather than puts trust in it? It is dangerous to play with fire." "How can you desire that I shall avoid seeing the preserver of my life? :i said Isabella with some impa- tience. "What would he have thought had I shown him that I wished to avoid him? Moreover, who has suggested a union?" "Not you, it is true, but the time may come when you will think of it." "And if so be, do you think it would be preposter- ous? Is not the name of Maurits Sterner more to be prized than nobility, and may it not be presumed that he will add greater luster to the name?" "In your eyes and mine, Isabella, his name is as worthy of respect as any other, but not so with your father. If a Sterner were so renowned that his name promised to live to the end of time, it would make no difference with Baron Ehrenstam. What are genius and its accompanying distinctions compared with the title of count or any title of nobility?" "You are right. O, my God! That such prejudices should exist." "It is truly to be regretted, but we can't help it. You must be careful, Isabella, not to allow your im- pression to grow into a passion. It will bring you only misfortune." ISABELLA 527 "You speak so calmly, so coldly, Holmer, that I do not recognize you," burst forth the young girl. "You, you, who have been my guide into the realms of science and art; you who shaped my mind to scorn the world's fetters and shams, to seek only the true, the beautiful in nature, in art, in all things; you who have never allowed the prejudices of the world to en- ter my mind, you will now forbid admittance there to the most holy, the most blissful feeling that can pos- sibly fall to mortals. You would close the only par- adise God has opened for mankind upon earth, the paradise of love. You say to me, Beware, young girl, do not love. He upon whom you would bestow your heart is of the common class, and you are a person of rank. How is it possible that you, my teacher, my triend, can say so?" "Because I at forty years can see things from a less poetical point of view than you at eighteen," said Holmer, smiling painfully, "and because I am your friend; because I am interested in you beyond the power of expression, I would rescue you from the woes of an unfortunate love." "No love is unfortunate if it meets with a response. " "It might be as you assert if love was a matter of the soul alone and not of the sense or passions, but it is sensual as well as spiritual. It will not be content with love in the broadest application of the word. It will possess the object thereof, and if it cannot be possessor it will renounce. Then comes the burning that consumes the heart, darkens the understanding, withers the roses on the cheek, and brings the tears of anguish and despair to the eyes. I would spare you these pangs. Therefore my warning." "Thank you, Holmer. I will weigh it in my heart," 528 THE PLAY OF FATE rising and giving him her hand. "You are always my friend, my only true friend on earth, I know. I come to you therefore, when anything moves, pains or charms me, for, ah! I look upon you as almost a father. In truth," added she laughing, "the world would smile if it knew that a young girl came to a man, to whom no bond of blood joined her, to ask his advice in matters of the heart. At any rate, it is not at all or- dinary." "You are, however, no ordinary woman, Isabella. But I hear Marie's step on the stairs. She comes to call me to breakfast." "Well, have you had your tete-a-tete?" asked Marie, opening the door. "Come and have a cup of coffee." "No, thank you, Marie, I have breakfasted." "But you can come down, nevertheless," said the young wife. "Come, I wish to show you something pretty." Marie smiled so drolly that Isabella hardly knew what to think. "Very well," said she, "I'll go with you." When they reached the lower room, there, first to meet her, stood her acquaintance of the day before. Pastor Bergholm had come with his former pupil to enjoy the pleasure of showing him how happy his son-in-law and daughter were, and how neat and com- fortable were their surroundings. Calmly and precisely, Maurits bowed to the blushing maiden, though he was more than surprised at her presence. But Marie broke in roguishly: "Allow me the honor. Mr. Sterner, Miss Ehren- stam." "We are already acquainted," said Maurits. "Yes, and since a long tjme ago," added Hplmer. ISABELLA 529 "True," said Isabella, as her glance met that of Maurits; "Mr. Sterner has a claim upon my everlast- ing" "Not a word about that, Miss Ehrenstam! " inter- rupted Maurits; "when, the opportunity was given me yesterday to exchange a few words with you in the park, I requested you to make no further reference to the service I did you. You promised me that you would not." Isabella was silent, but a glance from her deep blue eyes rewarded Maurits for his delicacy. The conversation was soon general. They discussed literature, in which all present were quite at home, and Isabella listened with secret joy to every word uttered by the young author. She felt that the ideas expressed by him were the utterances of her own soul, the echoes of her own thoughts, and, forgetting Holmer's warn- ing, she drank in at every breath the sweet but dan- gerous poison. Hours sped by as minutes. It was al- ready mid-day when Isabella finally thought of leaving. Pastor Bergholm and Maurits accompanied her almost to the mansion. Tha pastor following, silent and dreaming, left the young couple to themselves, and, as two happy, innocent children, they made good use of their liberty. They ran races after the butterflies that sported over the meadows, they plucked flowers which they exchanged with each other, and, again and again, their hands met in gentle touches, whereupon a thrill passed over them that sent the blood coursing to their cheeks. Few words passed between them. They regaled themselves with the dumb language of the eyes. "I'll see you again," said Maurits, as they stood at the end of their walk, about to separate, Isabella answered with her eyes onlv. CHAPTER V THE VISIT On the evening of the same day, Isabella's parents returned, accompanied by George and two young gen- tlemen, concerning whom we shall have more to say at another time. "Good evening, Isabella," said the baron as the young woman entered the salon. "Has any one called during my absence?" "No, father." The two guests who had been brought from Broby, now hastened forward to greet the young lady. "My dear miss!" exclaimed Lieutenant Hjertskold complaisantly, "how much we have deplored your ab- sence." "And you," added the Baron Ornskold, "must feel a little regret." "Over what, gentlemen?" inquired Isabella. "That an incomprehensible notion kept you from the charming party at Broby." "Yes, I am suffering some remorse. Unfortunately, however, it is now too late," said Isabella; "but of what do you particularly complain, lieutenant?" "At the same freak, of course," answered the lieu- tenant, "that deprived the festival of its chief orna- ment and allowed us cavaliers to feel the bitter in the disappointed expectation." "You ought to know, gentlemen," interrupted the 530 THE VISIT 531 baron, "that my daughter is given to a philosophy of life wholly unlike that of other young women.- She would withdraw from the world, and if there were such things as cloisters now, -she would seek a refuge there, I am sure, from its bustle and dissipations." "She remained home, I think, to enjoy herself un- disturbed with Virgil's idyls," added the baroness. "You have heard, I presume," said George, "that, next to Christina, my sister is the most learned woman of history, and she looks with haughty dis- dain upon us ordinary creatures who find entertain- ment in the vulgar pleasures of the world." Only a compassionate smile gave evidence that Isabella had heard these several remarks. "Is it possible, Miss Ehrenstam, " burst forth Lieu- tenant Hjertskold, "that you can love the idyls of Virgil more than the realities of our every-day life? Had you been at Broby yesterday evening, you could have seen a living idyl." "A living idyl!" said Isabella. "Yes, for most of the guests were clad in the garb of shepherds and shepherdesses. It was the count's birthday, and the countess wished to have something out of the ordinary. We danced until sunset out on the green meadow that lies at one side of the residence, after which the ball proper began in the salon. It was charming, and was kept up until morning. Most of the guests went then, but a few of the intimate friends of the family remained. This forenoon, we enjoyed a long horseback ride in our costumes of the day before, and dined in the forest near a pretty purling brook. But you are not listen- ing, Miss Isabella." "Yes," said Isabella, with a slight touch of irony in 53 2 THE PLAY OF FATE her tones, "I heard everything you said, sir. But you are cruel to punish me in such a manner. I could almost envy you your living idyls." ''Truly, Miss Isabella!" "Don't believe her!" broke in George scornfully; "she could find no pleasure in idyls other than those written in French, Greek or Latin, and as for dancing, that she loves only as a fine art. Our party dances are to her no more than a ludicrous burlesque on danc- ing in its higher sense. How is that, my little sister, right or not?" "Quite right, George. Just as our most zealous dancers and society lions are burlesques on mankind in its highest significance, " the young woman retorted, goaded by her brother's scoffing. "Isabella! " cried the baron with an angry frown, "3^011 forget yourself." Isabella felt the tears well up in her eyes, but she repressed them, unwilling to allow her unkind brother the triumph of seeing her wounded. Meantime, the lieutenant and baron, quite embarrassed, had gone to the window from which they seemed to be very much absorbed with the view before them. "Isabella!" said the baroness, aiming to break the unpleasant silence that had followed the baron's stern reprimand, "how did you occupy yourself during our absence?" "I visited Holmer's this forenoon," answered she, casting a defiant glance at her father. "What, Isabella!" said the baron angrily, "have you dared to disobey" he checked himself hastily, re- membering the presence of the guests. "Yes, I have dared disobey you," said Isabella, completing her father's sentence. "I would not, could THE VISIT 533 not, be so ungrateful to my former teacher as to wholly and so suddenly sever the relations that have so long existed between us. I wished him to understand that I had not voluntarily ceased my visits." "We will talk this over at another time, Isabella," said the barcn, his brow clouded with displeasure. "At Holrner's," resumed Isabella, casting a searching glance at her father, "I met a young man who intends to make us a visit to-morrow. You know him, father, by name, at least. " "Who is it then?" asked the baron. "His name is Maurits Sterner." "Maurits Sterner!" exclaimed the baron, springing excitedly from his chair. "That confounded play- wright!" added he, endeavoring to assume an air of unconcern. "Ah! Indeed!" broke in the baroness, "you must have made a very interesting acquaintance, Isabella. I am almost certain that you invited him here?" "Yes, mother." "I thought as much. It seems to me extraordinary, however, that a young woman, upon her first meeting with a man "It was not our first meeting," said Isabella, inter- rupting her mother. "Indeed! And where had you met him before?" "The first time ten years ago." "Ten years ago! She knows all," muttered the baron to himself; "curse the luck!" "Yes," resumed Isabella, "ten years ago, he saved my life as I was about to drown in the stream below here. You have not forgotten the circumstance, mother?" "Was it he!" exclaimed the baroness and baron in 534 THK PLAY OF FATE one voice, the first actually surprised, the latter feign- ing the utmost astonishment. "Yes. And you can understand, mother, that I felt it my duty to invite him to visit us." "Very true, Isabella," assented the baroness. "You did quite right. One should not neglect an opportunity to show gratitude for such a great service." "O, " interposed Baron Ornskold," how I envy the young man who was so fortunate as to have saved your life. He can always lay claim to your interest and sympathy. " "Right, baron, that he can," answered Isabella. "This Mr. Sterner," inquired the baron, "where is he residing just now?" "With his former teacher, Pastor Bergholm." "Ah! It must have been an agreeable surprise to find your rescuer, my dear Isabella," said the baron; "he left us on that occasion without giving his name, and though I sought his whereabouts afterward, I did not succeed in finding him. He was then but a boy, and his features and attire led me to suppose he be- longed to the lower class. I concluded him a peasant boy, and offered him what seemed to me adequate compension for his noble deed, but he declined it with a haughtiness that astonished me, and went his way without a word further. Since then, I have never heard of him." These words were uttered in tones so calm and measured that Isabella, who knew already from Mau- rits how deeply her father had wronged him, almost admired him for his ingenuity in giving color to his side of the story. "He is coming to-morrow then? ' resumed the bar- oness. THE VISIT ' fes, he promised. Upon one condition, however." "And that?" "That no reference snail be made to the accident at the bridge. He begged to be spared the least ex- pression of gratitude. I know not why." 'But I know!" muttered the baron to himself. "He could not have conceived anything keener. " The baroness was of a mind with her husband, but both concealed their thoughts. A servant entering the room about this time to an- nounce supper, the subject was not discussed further. All repaired to the dining-hall, where they separated soon after the meal to retire to sleep and to rest off the dissipations of the night before. It was four o'clock on the afternoon of the day following the incidents just related. The baroness, in all her state, was lolling on a divan near a work- table. The baron appeared to be fully occupied with reading a paper, and in a corner of the room, seated around another table, were George and his young friends engaged in a gams of cards. Isabella was seated in a rocking-chair at her mother's side busied with a piece of tapestry work. "Isabella," said the baroness, who was unusually agreeable to-day, "have you heard that Count Eberhard has returned from his visit to the baths? He could not stand it there longer than a week, and is now home again." "I had not heard it. Where did you learn it?" "His servant was here to-day, the bearer of a letter from one of my friends whom the count chanced to meet during his absence. 'Pierre,' said I, 'why did your master return so suddenly? Was he not to have been gone a month?' 536 THE 1>LAY OF FATE "'Yes,' answered he, 'that was the understanding, but the count is tired of travel, and when I asked him why, he answered, Pierre, I am weary of a bachelor's Lfe; I am going home to marry.'" A shudder passed through Isabella's frame. She feared her father's project, formed many years ago, but dropped because of the reluctance of the parties there- to, was about to be revived, and she was terrified at the thought of the many trials and agonies she must necessarily undergo in case the count showed a dis- position to reconsider the matter. She smothered her anxiety, however, and answered calmly: "But it is reported that the count has become a complete misan- thrope of late, and such a person can hardly think seriously of marriage. Has he not lived the three or four summers past at Odensvik the life of a hermit almost, seeing no one except his servant, Pierre?" "Very true, Isabella, but the count's language to his servant seems to indicate that he has changed his mind. It is more than probable that he will soon ask your parents for your hand, Isabella. He has, I am sure, always esteemed you highly, and it is only his unaccountable love for the freedom of a single life that has kept him from declaring himself before this. But now, having tired of the fleeting joys of the world, he has determined to settle down on his beautiful estate and choose himself a wife, and it is not yet too late for you to become the Countess Stjer- nekrantz, my daughter. " "Death first," thought the girl, the color going from her face. "Such a union has always been full of hor- ror to me, but now, now it is more impossible than ever. " Isabella was thinking of the meeting of yesterday in the park. I THE VISIT 537 "Well," said the baroness, receiving no response from Isabella, "you are silent." It is hardly necessary to mention that this conver- sation between mother and daughter was conducted in low tones, so that none of the others in the salon heard what was said. "Mother," said Isabella finally, with trembling voice, "would you really give your daughter in wed- lock to Count Eberhard?" What a question! Can you conceive a more prom- ising union? You are both young, both rich, both of high birth. It is your father's intention to give you Liljedahl and two hundred thousand dollars in cash as a dowry. George is to have for his share my pat- rimony in Oster-Gothland and the rest of our prop- erty. This when we are no more, of course. If to your inheritance Odensvik is added, and the count's other possessions and wealth, yours, without doubt, will be the wealthiest house in all Sweden. More- over, this union has been your father's most cherished thought for years "Mother," said Isabella, "you said just now that the count had probably tired of his single life and had determined to settle down and choose himself a wife. It cannot be unknown to you that this man has drunk to the dregs of the goblet of pleasure, that he has dis- sipated even to the verge of imbecility, and now, when the bloom of youth has been destroyed by passion's poison; when excesses of all kinds, even of the lowest and most unmanly, have undermined his health and made him no better than a shadow of his former self; reduced him to a living skeleton, to an enfeebled ghost of a man; gloomy almost to despair, cold and egotist- ical to heartlessness; you will give your only daughter THE PLAY OF FATE into his arms and compel her to become the wife of one whose past life should make him an object of scorn to mankkid in virtuous horror and contempt. Have you thought of this, mother?" "Isabella, always the same, I see!" burst forth the baroness with a shrug of her shoulders, "always ex- alted! Extravagant, unreasonable! Will you never learn to look at things as they are, but continually wander off into imaginings and wild notions? In all the terrible pictures you have portrayed, not one thing is true, except that Count Stjernekrantz, just as so many other young men of wealth, has given himself up for a few years to the pleasures of the world. He has been fickle and thoughtless, it may be, but he is not nevertheless, an exhausted roue. Admitted that he has sometimes of late shown signs of melancholy, and of the misanthropist, but this has, doubtless, had its origin in that he felt himself alone and isolated. Once married, he will resume his former happy and agreeable disposition. This you ought to have no doubt about. He is also quite a young man yet, only a few and thirty years old, and regarding his looks, he is a. little thin, but far from disagreeable looking. If you marry him, as I hope you will, you will surely find yourself contented, if even you are at first unable to cultivate any warmer feeling for him." "But it is impossible, mother!" exclaimed Isabella in despair; "it is impossbile! I can never love him!" "Codille! Brother Ornskold," shouted George tri- umphantly, in the other corner of the room. "Codille! That play will cause you to lose the game by one hundred and sixty." "The accursed scribblers!" muttered the baron be- tween his teeth, hurling the paper from him and seiz- ing another, "such a shameless pack! " THE VISIT 539 "Isabella," resumed the baroness after a pause, "what silliness to prate about love! A rich heiress, such as you, does not marry for love. Such things belong these days wholly to the stage and romances. You should think of the words of the Dowager Queen Christina to Ebba Brahe: 'The one you will, the other you shall,' etc. You remember the story?" "Then you intend to compel me, mother?" asked Isabella, in a voice vibrating with a thousand strug- gling feelings. "Compel you! I hope it will not be necessary.-" "I will not voluntarily go to the altar at that man's side," replied Isabella with the energy of despair; "and I beg you, mother, if such a terrible thing should happen that he propose, do not drive me to extremes. In such an event, I should be equal to " She checked herself suddenly. "Well, what!" asked the baroness. Isabella was spared an answer, for at that instant the door was thrown open, and a servant announced: "Count Stjernekrantz. " Baron Ehrenstam threw the paper aside; the three players rose hastily from the table; the baroness ad- vanced majestically to meet her guest, and Isabella, who had risen from her seat, felt the blood rush from her cheeks, and a fear that rendered her almost pow- erless. She staggered, and was obliged to steady her- self against the divan to escape falling. Eberhard entered, and with a bow saluted the ladies, then ex- tended his hand to the baron, who shook it with an expression of pleasure rarely observed on his marble- cold features. Count Stjernekrantz was clad, as usual, wholly in black. His melancholy and somewhat sunken, but 54 THE PLAY OF FATE always handsome features, shadeM by a head of coal- black hair, which had already begun to show silver threads of time, bore marks of excesses and a satiety of life which long-continued dissipation and offerings at the altar of pleasure never fail to leave. The scornful curl of the lips, the deep glow of the eyes, the furrows on his forehead evidences of the fearful ravages of the passions the deathly pale, almost white cheeks, gave to his face, notwithstanding its harmonious beauty, an expression that begot aversion in one who saw him for the first time. No one had yet seen that face illumined by a smile. Always cold, gloomy, marble-white, it seemed rather to belong to a ghost than a human being. Only the eyes, that now blazed with a consuming, hellish glow, gave it life and betrayed the fire that was burning within, "Well, well; you have come upon us quite unex- pectedly, my dear count!" exclaimed the baroness, motioning him to a seat. "It was your intention, we thought, to spend your summer at the sea-shore, but you are as changeable as ever, I see." "Yes, my lady, I did so intend, but I did not thrive at the baths, and, wearied with travel and pleasure parties, I concluded to return home and settle down at Odersvik. " With this utterance, his eyes fell, with a peculiar expression, on Isabella, whose blood was made to rush to her heart thereby. She seemed to read her fate in his glance. "But you are not going to lock yourself in as you did last summer, my friend," said the baron. "You were then almost unapproachable, living the life of a hermit. You must visit your neighbors frequently, and us in particular, being your nearest." THE VISIT 541 "I will come," said Eberhard, "on condition that I am to be considered a member of the family. I enjoy a hearty and unrestrained sociability above all things." "And it shall not be wanting here, mon frere, " said George. "We will hunt, play cards and 'drink cham- pagne together during the two months I am at home, and here are two jolly young fellows that 1 have had the good fortune to gather in for the summer sojourn Baron Ornskold, Lieutenant Hjertskold," added he by way of introduction. Eberhard rose and bowed coldly. The three gentlemen resumed their play without further attention to the newly arrived guest. The conversation between her ladyship, the count and Baron Ehrenstam was confined to ordinary topics. Isabella took no part in it, but busied herself with her needle-work. Isabella cast frequent glances at the door of the salon, and at every footstep on the porch she turned hastily to listen, but a half hour sped by without in- t erruption. "He is not coming," thought she. "He has forgot- ten his promise. Well, very good!" Here she paused, for at the instant the door was thrown open and a servant announced: "Mr. Sterner," Eberhard was engaged in describing to the baroness a painting by Rubens which he had seen while in Milan. He ceased abruptly at the announcement, and sprang from his seat as if shot upward by a catapult. With firm step, and perfectly self-possessed, Maurits entered, clad in black, as was Eberhard. A dead si- lence prevailed for some seconds. All were over- whelmed at this instant by the most dissimilar feel- 542 THE PLAY OF FATE ings. Pride, curiosity, anger, gratitude, love, embar- rassment, all of these impressions, made by Maurits' presence, were soon concealed under the desultory con- versation that was now opened. "My dear sir," said the baroness, approaching Mau- rits with marked graciousness, "I need not tell you how delighted we all are to see you among us. We know how much we are indebted to you from many years ago, and we realize that we are under obliga- tions to you that it were vain to attempt to discharge." "I beg you, my lady, not a word about it," said Maurits, bowing; "the subject would hardly have been remembered had it not given me a welcome opportu- nity to enter your pleasant circle during my visit to these parts. " "A circle that bids you welcome with gratitude, sir, and we hope to count you among our daily guests," said the baron, extending his hand with that delicate tact and courteous smile under which the accomplished man of the world knows so well how to conceal his real sentiments. The attention of the guests was now occupied with a happening of a very different character. "My God! Count Stjernekrantz!" cried the baron- ess, her eyes chancing to fail upon Eberhard ; "what is the matter! Are you ill?" The count did not answer. With his hands con- vulsively grasping the corner of the sofa, lips quiver, ing and knees quaking, he was staring wildly into Maurits' face. Horror was so clearly depicted on his countenance that every one felt a chill to the very marrow. Eberhard appeared to have forgotten his whereabouts, and to be' insensible to the fact that he was at this instant the object of inquiring glances from all sides. THE VISIT 543 "Whew! But it is dreadful!" whispered Baron Ornskold to George; "he looks as Hamlet must have looked when he saw his father's ghost." This, though uttered in an undertone, reached the ears of the count, and echoed in his heart, in his con- science. As if on the verge of madness, he stretched forth his unoccupied hand toward Maurits, who was standing near with folded arms, his eyes fixed upon him, and burst forth in tones befitting an exorcist: "It is the i6th of June to-day, the i6th of June! Away! Away! It was not I, it was fate!" "Eberhard! Mon Dicu! Are you beside yourself!" ciied George, grasping the count's arm. "You are not a ghost seer, I hope!" These words brought the count to his senses. With an almost superhuman effort, he succeeded in tearing himself from the terrible apparition that clouded his understanding. His face gradually resumed its cus- tomary calm; his body seemed to draw together again, and his eyes, that for a time threatened to burst from their sockets, sank back again to their normal condi- tion. He drew his blood red handkerchief across his corpse like face. "Forgive me, ladies and gentlemen," he stammered in uncertain tones. "I was not well. I I it was as if a giddiness had come over me, but I am better now. " Isabella had observed these strange actions with a shudder. She was the only one of the company upon whom the thought flashed: "This man must have some terrible crime on his conscience." All the others, ex- cept Maurits, who did not know what to think, ac- cepted the count's explanation in good faith. A serv- ant hastened at the command of the bareness after a 544 THE P LAY OF FATE glass of fresh water which she handed him on its ar- rival. Eberhard drained it at a single draught, and had soon so far revived that he resumed his part in the conversation. George greeted Maurits with manifest embarrass- ment. The latter responded with a cold bow only, declining the hand extended to him. 1 Maurits," whispered George, drawing near, "forget the past. No one is master of circumstances, and the best of intentions may be foiled. Moreover, Helena is happy." "Forget! Never! But we must not speak of it here." Maurits made his way to Isabella's side, where he took a seat. The young man surveyed the salon. Seldom has one found himself in such a peculiar po- sition as Maurits at this instant. Everybody over- whelmed him with attention and flattery. His remark- able play, which all present had witnessed and ad- mired, was discussed the beauty of the dialogue, the deep truth portrayed, and the brilliancy of effects dis- played in the piece. Maurits amused himself with the endeavor to fathom the sincerity of the expressions uttered. Never had he comprehended so perfectly as now the truth of Thorild's words: "Language was given us for the purpose of concealing our thoughts." "Your play, Mr. Sterner," said the baron," is, beyond doubt, one of the most interesting that has ever been presented on the world's stage. Our dramatic writers can take courage from your success " Maurits smiled. "This interpreted," said he in his mind, would be: "You accursed ink-slinger, who have employed your despicable art for the purpose of pre- senting to the world a picture of my past life, I wish you had been hissed out of existence at your debut." THE VISIT 545 "How agreeable," said the baroness, "how more than agreeable it is for us to be able to count as one of our circle a person whose genius has already won for him, though so young, the admiration of all lovers of the beautiful art." Strange! Maurits must have possessed Delphine Gay's marvelous lorgnette; for between the words of the baroness, he read clearly as follows: "I wish you were where pepper grows How provoking that we must receive into our house one who believes himself to have been an object of injustice and ingratitude at our hands. " "And let me add," broke in George, "that it is a pleasure to again see an old acquaintance of my happy college days, for you must know, mother, that Maurits and I were the best of friends at Upsala." "Curse the luck!" Maurits interpreted, "that brought this fellow here, the fool that I duped so nicely at Upsala. It is decidedly embarrassing." "Mr. Sterner," said Eberhard, who had not spoken for some time, "you have every reason in the world for being surprised at my agitation a few minutes ago. I can only explain it by informing you that I am the victim, at times, of nervous shocks that deprive me almost wholly of my senses. Moreover, your face brought to mind a distressing incident in my life." Isabella thought she saw Eberhard shudder as he uttered these words. If Maurits could have interpreted his utterances faithfully, the blood in his veins would have been turned to ice in horror, but he understood them thus: "He thinks it quite natural that I should be a prey to violent feelings at sight of the youth whose poor blind mother was trampled to death under my horse's hoofs." 546 THE PLAY OF FATE Maurits was in error this time. Eberhard was not thinking of that occurrence. He had long ago forgot- ten all about it. Isabella was the only one of the company who did not give expression to one of those meaningless speeches which are known in our language as cloakings for the real thoughts, but she fixed upon the young man a glance that spoke with a thousand tongues. Maurits interpreted this glance: "Gratitude and in- terest;" and he seemed to read also something more that he did not dare attempt to translate. The striking resemblance between Maurits and Eber- hard had not escaped the attention of the company, but rio one ventured an observation on the subject, fearing, perhaps, that he might touch upon a delicate topic. The comparisons were much in Maurits' favor, however. It was, as Isabella wrote in her diary, little more than an expression that distinguished them. The fine regular features, the high white forehead, the black wavy hair, the prominent nose, the oval-shaped haad and the pearl-white teeth resembled each other to a remarkable degree. Eberhard' s eyes were, how- ever, somewhat darker than Maurits', whose were more lika the famous chestnut-brown of the Circassian. As like as they were in outward aspect, however, the spiritual likeness, if we may so put it, was so different that one could not mistake them. The complexions were pale, but Eberhard's had assumed almost the color of death, while Maurits' was that paleness that the susceptible young lady terms interesting, and which, undeniably, often gives an expression of a su- perior intelligence, and betokens incessant study and struggles of the mind. Moreover, Maurits could blush, while not a drop of blood ever made its appearance THE VISIT 547 in Eberhard's face. The blood had left his cheeks for all time to pulsate in his veins, not to flow calmly and quietly, but to rage with a glow that can be com- pared only with molten lava. But more than by their complexions, they were dis- tinguished by the beauty of character so clearly de- nned in the countenance of the one, and the fire of genius and sentiment that in unison flashed from his eyes; while in that of the other, there was a coldness, a gloominess, a scornful curl of the lip and a gleam of ravaging passion burning in his eyes that destroyed the agreeable in his otherwise regular features. Mau- rits was Milton's angel before, Eberhard his Satan after the fall. Eberhard's face was like a wax mask modeled after Maurits' and impressed upon its owner without leaving an opening, except the eyes, out of which the soul might issue. One rarely sees greater contrasts than existed be- tween these two men, yet there was a resemblance, as if accident had amused herself with forming their feat- ures in the same mold. To add to the strange in all this, was the similarity of voices. The tone and artic- ulation were the sajme, but, as with the faces, each possessed an individuality. In short, make Eberhard thirty years younger, and let him pass through a like schooling with Maurits, and who knows whether there would have been anything by which they could have been distinguished. CHAPTER VI THE CONSERVATORY The company which we have gathered in the recep- tion hall at Liljedahl was increased, later in the even- ing, by the arrival of other guests, among whom the priest and his literary wife were to be counted. They had separated into groups, some wandering through the garden and park, while others, and among them Mau- rits, remained in the salon to listen to the music. By degrees, however, the hall was deserted. Maurits and Eberhard were the only guests remaining. The former fettered by the power of music, the latter be- cause he had a horror of after-dark promenades. The two brothers avoided each other. The count sat in the most distant corner of the salon, Maurits remaining near the piano at the back of Isabella's stool. The elder Baron Ehrenstam passed through the' room. Eberhard rose at once, grasped him by the arm, and accompanied him to his private apartments where the two gentlemen locked themselves in. For a few minutes Maurits and Isabella found them- selves alone. The young girl had turned hastily at the noise made by the opening and closing of the doors, and seeing Eberhard follow her father, she was seized with a sud- den fear. 548 THE CONSERVATORY 549 The music ceased and, as frightened as a young doe, Isabella started from her stool. "In God's name, Miss Isabella!" said Maurits, "what is wrong! You are pale and trembling " "Hush! Hush!" said she, drawing a deep breath. "My fate is to be decided now. O. my God!" "Your fate?" "Yes, yes, you do not know. You are fortunate to be ignorant of what birth and riches mean, by what ter- rible sufferings they are accompanied." "I do know, but explain your utterances." "Do you know Count Stjernekrantz?" she asked. "Know him!" exclaimed Maurits vehemently; "oh, yes, slightly," added he, checking himself. "Do you know that he is a monster of lusts and in- dulgences; that his crimes are weighing him down; that his health is destroyed; that he now drags out his miserable life with a 'fond perdu' upon all inner worth? " "I know it, but proceed." "Well, to that man my parents would give me, an offering, as the heathen offered their children to Moloch. They would give into his embrace a flower to be destroyed by his poisonous breath." "Impossible! " cried Maurits. "It cannot, it must not be!" "Nevertheless, the)' are bargaining over me now with- in yonder room. My father offers him Liljedahl and two hundred thousand dollars if he will take me." "But it is said that the count has a horror of mar- ried life. ' "Yes, but the fancy has now taken him. O my God! Who will save me!" "I!" said Maurits shortly and decidedly. 550 THE PLAY OF FATE "You!" "Yes, be calm. You shall not be that creature's wife. " "O, ought I to believe you! You would then be giving me my life a second time. But how can you prevent it?" "Have you read a play titled 'The Devil's Mem- oirs?'" asked Maurits. "Yes," answered Isabella in surprise, "but what has that play to do with my marriage?" "Much. Assume for instance that I, as Robert in that French drama, am in possession of certain secrets of sufficient power to influence the persons who seem disposed to decide for you your fate." "You jest!" "Assume that I know things that would embarrass them, that would make them glad to buy my silence at any price. " "My God, sir! Whom do you mean? My father?" "Your father less than Count Eberhard." He feared to wound Isabella's feelings by an intimation that her father had anything that he would conceal from the world. "But this is not the place for such a discussion. We may be disturbed any minute. I beg you only not to give yourself unnecessary pain. I will watch over your weltare." 'In what tones of assurance you speak!" resumed Isabella, who felt a heavy burden lifted from her breast. "O, you can't deceive me! I must believe you! I will." Maurits laid his fingers hastily upon his lips. The salon door opened, and George, with his two friends, entered. THE CONSERVATORY 55! "So, ho!" cried George, "here is my learned sister discussing literature, I presume, with her rescuer. What is the subject, Pindar's songs, Sophocles' trag- edies, or Ovid's 'Metamorphoses?' You must know, bother Maurits, that Isabella is the Wendela Skytte of the nineteenth century. She has the Greek and Roman writers at her fingers' ends. Were she a man, she could take a degree any da)'." "I have heard," answered Maurits seriously, "that your sister employs a great deal of her time with study,, an occupation much more elevating and satisfying than the dissipation and noisy pleasure of the world. And when such a cultivated mind, such a remaikable knowledge, is accompanied by a modesty such as we see in your sister, it must arouse in the mind of every honorable and intelligent person- a feeling of admira- tion and wonder as it produces scoffing and envy among the thoughtless and ignorant." George bit his lips with vexation, while his sister expressed her gratitude in an indescribable glance. After some minutes, during which George had suc- ceeded in smothering his wrath, he resumed: "You will acknowledge. Maurits, that you were very unbecomingly uncommunicative at Upsala to never mention the accident that gives you so great a claim upon our gratitude, I never heard a word of it before to-day "O, " said Maurits, eyeing him closely, "you know very well that you owe me a greater debt in another direction, and contracted since our Upsala days. We must not speak of that, however." George did not reply. He flushed and dropped his glance to the floor. But his embarrassment could not be called shame. George was not one to blush over 55 2 THE PLAY OF FATE his misdeeds. On the contrary, he boasted of them, and. he had many times related to his young friends how he duped the over-crammed Upsala student who was simple enough to believe that Baron George Ehrenstam would undertake the education of a young girl from no other motive than sympathy. The embarrassment experienced at this instant was only such as comes over every deceiver, when he is unexpectedly brought face to face with the victim of his deception. But it was not of long duration. George lifted his head again quite self-possessed and replied coldly: "If you have anything for which you would upbraid me, this is neither the time nor the place. Will you join us in a game?" "No, thank you," said Maurits, "I do not play. I was about to visit the garden and conservatory." "Allow me to accompany you," said Isabella, "it is so warm and sultry in the house." Let us enter the baron's private rooms, which are situated at one end of the salon, while at the other, a long row of drawing rooms, sleeping apartments and cabinets are arranged. In the inner of the baron's two rooms, Eberhard had cast himself down upon a sofa, and before him stood the baron with folded arms. "I tell you, my dear count, you must help me to abate this nuisance. I can't directly forbid Holmer's teaching these young ones, but if we, who are the principal property owners in the neighborhood, hold together, we can very soon tumble his little scheme about his head. You must not look upon the matter with indifference. It is a subject of incalculable THE CONSERVATORY 553 weight, for only by holding the peasantry in ignorance can we hope to control them and lead them in the way we would have them go. Consider what a pretty plight we shall be in if through the education they may receive, this obstinate pack arrive at where they imagine they can think for themselves. You must, therefore, keep your tenants from sending their chil- dren to this damnable school." "I will speak to my inspector about it," said Eber- hard. I! He will easily contrive some means of fright- ening them from it." 'Good! 1 resumed the baron. "We have the priest on our side also, and he has promised to aid us I, for my part, have already had conveyed to my tenants an intimation that I intend to evict them, and supply their places with others if they persist in sending their children to Marielund. It has done good work already, and the number of that fool's pupils has di- minished noticeably. We must, for principle's sake, pull up this evil by the root." "Nothing is simpler, with the owners of Liljedahl and Odensvik working together, " said Eberhard. "But let us dismiss this subject for the present. I have something of quite another character to discuss with you." "Ah, indeed!' 1 exclaimed the baron curiously. "Some years ago, you offered me the hand of your daughter. Hitherto, I have not been disposed to look favorably upon the proposal, because I have always dreaded a yoke on my freedom. In a word, I have never felt inclined to marry." "And now?" inquired the baron eagerly. "Mow, I have no objections to reopening the nego- tiations if you are to-day of the same mind as then. 554 THE PLAY OF FATE Miss Isabella's talents, virtues and graces have quite captivated me, and overcome my opposition to the married state. Furthermore, I am beginning to grow weary of the life I have been living, and am disposed to be serious, practical, attend to my business, and, in fine, settle down and marry." "I congratulate you with all my heart that you have arrived at such a sensible resolution! " ejaculated the baron, hardly able to conceal his satisfaction. "A manly determination, nobly uttered. I have long ex- pected you to arrive at this, and have therefore rejected all of the many proposals that have been made. It has been the pet scheme of my life to wed my daughter to you, and thereby provide for her future. 1 ' "You consent, then?" "With all my heart, and I hope the dower she is to receive, if not equal to your wealth, will be satisfac- tory to you. I am old now, and can't live long. Af- ter my death, Isabella is to receive Liljedahl, with the provision that it is to be Cecilia's home while she may live. Besides, I will give her, on her wedding- day, one hundred thousand dollars in cash, and at my death she is to receive another equal sum. Are you content?" "Perfectly," said Eberhard, whose utmost expecta- tions were more than realized. "I had no idea you were so rich. But that is apart from the subject. The most important part of the affair now is to gain your daughter's consent." "Can you have a doubt about her consent, when it is I that am giving her in marriage?" said the baron with a shrug of the shoulders. "Then, too, I am quite certain she has not yet formed an attachment for any one, wherefore she will be be the more ready to yield THE CONSERVATORY 555 to her father's commands. I will speak with her in the morning about it." "But if she refuses?" "Refuses!" exclaimed the baron in tones of the ut- most surprise, "how can you seriously ask such a ques- tion? Because I have in many things allowed my son full rein, you must not conclude that I have reared my daughter in the same manner. Moreover, her tal- ents and knowledge notwithstanding, she possesses anything but bravery and an obstinate disposition. She will fear my wrath." "Do you think so?" said Eberhard, who had pene- trated Isabella's character with greater accuracy than either of her parents; "I fear the contrary." "Leave it to me," said the baron impatiently. "The business is settled;" and to seal the bargain, the two men shook hands heartily. While Isabella's fate was thus determined, she, her apprehensions quieted by Maurits' assuring words, was wandering at his side through the shady walks of the beautiful garden. Baroness Ehrenstam, with the rest of her guests, had halted at one of the many inviting arbors where- in she was seated engaged in a lively literary discussion with Madame Washolm, which was drunk in with bated breath by the priest and two elderly dames of the company, recently added guests of the mansion. Neither Maurits nor Isabella cared to join this com- pany. Mutely they wandered side by side, their only speech the language of the eyes. The evening sun sinking in the lake; the birds singing in the trees; the flowers emitting their fragrance at their feet; the fountain's glittering drops purling in the urn watched 556 THE PLAY OF FATE by naiads; nature's holy quiet, grandeur and majesty; all these spoke with a thousand tongues love's per- suasive, transporting language that feeble words are powerless to express. Therefore, they were silent, knowing that, at a time such as this, their souls were joined in feelings too deep, too holy to be interpreted by human lips. Thus they had reached the end of the garden where the conservatory was located; the door stood open, for the gardener was within tending his plants. "You wished to see the conservatory, " said Isabella, breaking the silence, "let us enter." An exclamation of admiration and joy escaped Mau- rits as he stepped into this flower world where the no- bles of Flora's kingdom, nodding upon their stalks, emitted their fragrance in myriad variety. It was as if he had been suddenly transported to a tropical clime and was wandering among its groves of palms, figs and pomegranates. The most magnificent colors, deftly handled by the greatest of all painters, Nature, charmed his eyes. He paused, and held his breath as if expecting to hear the sweet notes of the night- ingale. "Well," said Isabella, who was regarding him with a smile, "what do you think of this world? We are in the kingdom of the beautiful, are we not?" "And what a kingdom!" exclaimed Maurits, seating himself in the shade of an almond tree. "Who could not here fancy himself under the beautiful sky of Italy, or transported to Mahomet's paradise, and you one of the houris, Isabella! " "No, no! You must not dream such dreams, my dear sir," said Isabella, smiling sadly. "Here on earth, the only blooming paradise is in a hot-house; THE CONSERVATORY 557 and we, what are we but plants removed from our home-land to be cultivated, to fade and die at last in a strange soil!" "O Isabella!" cried Maurits earnestly, "do not say so. The beautiful does not fade -does not die--for it is imperishable. It is born of heaven, is the issue thereof, but it can bud and blossom, nevertheless, even here on the earth. To us both, it has opened its im- measurable kingdom where eternal spring breezes mur- mur in the tree-tops. We have seen its figures peep forth, its rays reflected from the mirror of art, and we have plucked its flowers and pressed them to our hearts. These flowers cannot die, their perfume can never be dissipated. The world we bear within us is our own, death cannot deprive us of it." "But this world," returned the young woman, "O! how limited by exterior restraints; how often obscured by heavy clouds of reality! You who have lived your rich life through to this without being restrained by the fetters of dependence, such as hold my spirit in check, you may not feel as I but, woe is me! With me how different! " Here she hid her face in her hands, and from be- tween her fingers, Maurits saw several tears chase each other. "Do not weep, Isabella," Maurits pleaded in tones as mild, as tender as the west wind whispering among the flowers of the meadow. "O, do not weep so. Even I have been restrained by fetters, though of another kind from yours. Mine were not gilded, they were of iron, for they were the fetters of poverty. How strange that we both we who have dreamed the same dreams, hunted the same images, who have sought with the same unquenchable yearning, and loved the 558 THE PLAY OF FATE beautiful how strange that \ve nave been standing at opposite and extreme ends of the human chain, each bewailing his lot. The gleam of riches and birth, the restraints of conventionalities, the emptiness of your surroundings and the scoffing of fools, have destroyed many illusions and laid obstacles in the way of the free unfolding of your spirit. On the other hand," continued he with a smile, "I have had nothing of this sort to deplore. Reality has presented to me afflictions; it has held out to me poverty's chalice, and I have emptied it to the very bottom, knowing well that man must suffer much if he will enjoy the fruits of victory. But what signify these fetters, Isabella? There come times in one's life during which he feels himself free, periods of blessedness when the strings on the lyre of thought and feeling vibrate without hin- drance. There come hours such as these, when the heart expands because it feels within the fragrance of the beautiful; when the soul swells with delight because it may prove its wings in a purer air. Well, why should we bewail our lot?" "O Maurits!" exclaimed Isabella in ecstasy, "how I love your day-dreams; how I feel at this instant that our souls are very much akin. Yes, you are right, life's cup is bitter; but there are hours, nevertheless, when one feels proud and free; when the restraint of the fetters is not felt. You have uttered what my soul has foreseen and dreamed, though it could not find words with which to interpret its dreams." She stooped down over him, and fastened a camellia into the button-hole of his coat. When he looked up again their glances rested on each other, and around them bloomed a flora as beautiful, as charming, as it blooms in a southern paradise. THE CONSERVATORY 559 Happy pair! Though earth and all had gone up in smoke, they would not have seen the flames, and though the heavens had been hurled to earth, they would not have heard the fall. From this instant the faith of Maurits and Isabella was plighted, though no word was added to the dumb utterances of the eyes. The gardener, who had been away after water with which to sprinkle the plants, returned at this point to disturb the happy dreams of the young couple. "Let us return," said Isabella, "our absence may cause comment." Maurits sighed and rose. Proffering her his arm, they retraced their steps to join the others. "Do you see that tall lady coming there in company with my mother?" asked Isabella. "Yes, who is .she?" "She is the wife of the priest Washolm, a woman who never discourses upon nor discusses anything but literature. She will be delighted to make your ac- quaintance. " "No, spare me!" Maurits pleaded. "Such discus- sions are detestable to me. " "But it cannot be helped," said Isabella in a roguish manner. "She has already caught sight of us, and is bearing down upon us under full sail. She looks upon you as excellent game for the rest of the evening." "O Isabella! How cruel you can be!" His companion laughed, and when a few minutes later, they met, Maurits was presented by the baron- ess to the learned woman. "What do I hear!" exclaimed Madame Washolm. "Mr. Sterner! O, so agreeable to be permitted the honor of your acquaintance. You have upon your con- 560 THE PLAY OF FATE science, sir, that you caused me many a sleepless night. " "I?" "Yes; for your interesting play, which I have read and re-read with rapture, has often kept me awake until far into the morning hours. I wished then so much to know you, and to have the opportunity of discussing the subject with you a little. Those scenes brought tears to my eyes at times, then again I was positively out of patience with you. To what cruel sufferings you subjected your Isabella." "You embarrass me, madame," said Maurits smiling. "Do you not know that one should not criticise an author in his presence?" "That I never heard, and, though I admire your modesty, I feel that talent should be encouraged. You are gifted, highly gifted, sir! Your work will compare well with the great Shakespeare whom you re- semble in many respects, though it may be you do not possess an equal knowledge of human nature, which, however, is not to be expected in an author so young." Isabella laughed in her sleeve, and the baroness bit her lips to suppress an outburst. Maurits fidgeted and perspired, heartily wishing all blue stockings in pur- gatory, but it availed him nothing. Madame Was- holm had persuaded herself that she must "discuss lit- erature" with the young man, and nothing could re- strain her. Maurits, all too good-hearted to make sport of her, resigned himself to the torture of her oratory, but finally, when the woman had talked herself tired, discovering that she was getting only monosyllabic, if any, response to her effusions, she ceased abruptly, and Maurits, availing himself cf the opportunity to make his escape, rose hastily and made his way from THE CONSERVATORY 561 the arbor. Isabella had gone in advance, but Mau- rits soon overtook her at the garden gate. "Well," said Isabella, "what do you' think of our learned guest?" "She is terrible!" ejaculated Maurits in mock dis- tress. "I say with Tegner and Hammerspik,