7
IJJI 1
THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
i
by
OF CALIFORNIA ;
THl
LOS ANGELES
tht
mg
GIFT OF
offi
of
the
California State Library
E
an;
the
1
mo
penou man iwo weeKs. COOKS OF REFERENCE SHALL NOT BK
TAKEN FROM THE LIBRARY AT ANY TIMK. [Extract from the
Rules
49
"The foregoing Regulations will be strictly enforced."**
'
WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
THE CHILD FROM THE EBRAERGANG.
AFTER THE GERMAN OF AD. YON VOLCKHAUSEN.
BY MRS. )L L. WISTER,
TRANSLATOR OP "THE OLD JIAM'SELLE'S SECRET," "GOLD ELSIE,'
"ONLY A QIRL," ETC.
PHILADELPHIA:
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. .
1871.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
PT
PKEFACE.
THE egotism of the translator prompts her to say a
word in her own person upon offering to the public
this rendering of a German novel. Her aim in these
translations has been, and is, to provide entertainment
not too exciting in its nature for warm summer
afternoons, or brains weary with labour or care, re-
solving that her interest in the very mild amount of
work which such translations require shall not be poi-
soned by the reflection that she has offered for perusal
anything that can be considered pernicious to the
youngest of her readers. Her past experience induces
her to request that there may be no confounding of
the translator with the author; where anything worthy
the name of an opinion, or a view of any kind, ultra
or conservative, profound or otherwise, occurs in the
light works she has selected for translation, she begs
leave to remind the reader that it is the opinion or view
of Miss Marlitt, Madame von Hillern, or Ad. von Volck-
hausen, and not of
MRS. WISTEE. '
PHILADELPHIA, March, 1871.
1*
332674
CONTENTS.
PART I.
PAOE
CHAPTER I. The Letter 9
II. The Hero of our Story 26
III. Seven Hundred Marks 35
IV. The Little Friend 41
V. The Housekeeper 51
VI. The Adopted Son 63
VII. The Picture of the Ship 78
VIII. The Wolf in Sheep's Clothing 88
IX. The Child from the Ebraergang 95
X. The Conspiracy 101
XL The Portuguese Coin 112
XII. Intrigue 124
XIII. The House of Correction 133
XIV. Widower and Housekeeper 143
XV. Returning Home 154
XVI. Netta's Resolution 165
XVII. The Goal Attained 178
XVIII. A Craft heyond Priestcraft 187
XIX. An Old Couple 202
(vii)
viii CONTENTS.
PART II.
PAOK
CHAPTEE I. The Uhlenhorst. The Water-Lily 211
II. Atonement 224
III. Young Love 237
IV. Foes to the Death 246
V. A Mysterious Remittance 256
VI. The Prodigal Son. Ancient Allies 264
VII. The Former Playmate. The Fugitive 280
VIII. Domestic Life 297
IX. Skating 309
X. The Birthday Fete 322
XL Father and Son 340
XII. Why he did not die 361
WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
PART I.
CHAPTER I.
THE LETTER.
" IP a memorial to the inventor of water-proof cloaks
should ever be talked of, I certainly will contribute some-
thing to it," muttered the letter-carrier Kurten to him-
self as he carefully buttoned up his garment of that de-
scription, "for," he continued, "the thing was invented
expressly for people in my line of life, I am not only
comfortable, I rather enjoy rain and snow nowadays,
no storm can harm me." And he walked briskly along
the broad pavement not at all annoyed by the fact that
his face, hardly protected by the rim of his hat, was ex-
posed to the driving tempest, it was more than half
covered by a thick beard, and his complexion certainly
could not be affected by the weather.
"I don't envy the porters," he thought, "for all that
they think themselves so grand, driving wagons instead of
wheeling barrows as formerly, walking is far healthier."
He opened the leathern pouch at his side and took
from it a letter which he left at the first floor of a very
elegant mansion. Another he carried to the counting-
room of a largo warehouse a third to the cellar of a
beer-saloon, and others to the inhabitants of second,
(9)
10 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
third, and fourth floors, until at last there remained only
one letter, containing money, left to deliver. And its
destination was not very distant. Kurten had gradually
gone the entire length of the wide but winding street at
the end of which appeared a fine old Protestant church.
It stood far back from the street and was separated from
the noise and tumult by a spacious courtyard, inclosed
within tolerably high walls with a richly ornamented
iron gate. Thus was secured to the sacred building
something of the quiet enjoyed by the village church in
the midst of its peaceful graveyard, " where the rude fore-
fathers of the hamlet sleep." Kurten entered the orna-
mented gate and pulled the bell at the door of the par-
sonage that nestled snugly by the side of the church,
and partook of its retirement.
A neatly-dressed maid-servant with a coquettish cap
crowning her smooth hair answered his summons.
" Is the Herr Pastor at home ?" asked Kurten.
" Yes, but give me your letter-, I'll carry it up-stairs to
him."
"No, by your leave, my girl, 'tis a money-letter."
" Very well, I can the Herr Pastor is busy with
his sermon/'
" No matter for that, my orders with money-letters are
strict, I must deliver it into his own hands," replied Kurten.
"Then you must take the risk upon yourself. The
second door to the left at the top of the stairs," said the
girl, turning back to her warm kitchen.
" I know," Kurten muttered, as he wiped his shoes
carefully before mounting the well-carpeted staircase, at
the foot and head of which bronze figures held lighted
lamps. The house was luxuriously furnished. In the
holy man's study there reigned only a dim religious
light shed by a single study lamp upon the writing-
THE LETTER. 11
table. There was no reflection of its glimmer in the rich
dark-green of the carpet, or in the heavy curtains that
were closely drawn before the windows. The table was
covered with sheets of paper written and unwritten, and
a large Bible lay open with which Pastor Siegfried was
evidently occupied when his " Come in" admitted Kurten
to his sanctum.
The postman is always an interesting visitor. Pastor
Siegfried looked up with more of expectation than of
annoyance at intrusion in his glance.
" From Mexico," said the carrier, handing the Pastor a
large letter with five seals, " containing a draft for seven
hundred marks."
" From Mexico ?" repeated the Pastor with evident
surprise. " Oh, yes," he added with an indifference that
caution suggested as he looked at the address which was
in a perfectly unfamiliar handwriting. There was no
occasion for the postman to know whether a remittance
of money from Mexico surprised the Pastor or not.
" Depart and instruct all nations !" he murmured as if
to explain why such remittances should naturally be sent
to him as the president of the foreign missionary society,
and in fact his own idea was that the letter in question
was from some pious adherent of the church.
As soon as Kurten had left the room, the Pastor
hurriedly broke the seals, first examined the check within
the envelope, and then read the following:
" RESPECTED SIR, Accustomed, as I have been from
earliest childhood, to regard you as the most intimate
friend of my family, I turn to you for aid in a strictly
confidential matter about which I must urgently entreat
you to say nothing to my mother. It is of the first im-
portance to me to apply in an affair of such excessive
delicacy, to a man upon whose honour and discretion I
12 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
can rely, even although I expose myself to his serious
condemnation. From my young friends I should meet
with no censure, and more than one among them would
be perfectly ready to serve me, but I could not have the
relief in intrusting my commission to their hands that I
feel in reposing confidence in a man of your well-known
piety and integrity.
" Not to weary you with any long story, I will simply
inform you that there is living in Hamburg a girl whom
I love, a poor girl to whom I am bound by the strongest
obligations, and Avhotn I have promised to marry as soon
as I am my own master. I am led to believe that ways
and means have been found for intercepting my letters to
my darling, Marie Gunther, for I have received no answers
to the many I have written to her until to-day, when a cry
for help has reached me from her, that wrings my very
soul. She accuses me of terrible neglect, and has lost
all faith in me, while I have been tortured by home-sick-
ness, made tenfold more agonizing by the thought of her
whom I so love. And now, sir, pray receive this brief
explanation and forgive me for making a still further de-
mand upon your valuable time by imploring you, in the
cause of the weary and heavy laden, to deliver, with all
possible dispatch, the inclosed sum of seven hundred
marks to the girl of whom I write. It is not an alms,
but a debt, or rather a small instalment of a debt, which
I acknowledge, but which is yet far from paid. It is
your reverence's office to perform deeds of charity ; this
that I ask may be reckoned among them in a twofold
sense, since you will restore peace and hope to a heart
now greatly agitated and embittered. Have the kind-
ness to deliver into Marie's own hands the accompanying
letter, and she will doubtless give you information upon
any point that my hurried communication leaves unex-
THE LETTER. 13
plained. Should you consent to add to your great kind-
ness by writing me a few lines you would, most reverend
sir, secure the eternal gratitude of your most obedient
servant, " W. GRAVENSUND."
" A precious story this !" said the Pastor to himself, in
a tone of annoyance as be tossed the letter aside after
having read it attentively, " and wonderfully simple and
excessively impudent to make me a confidant in such
matters. The fellow is a fool, evidently one of those
who, without strength to resist temptation, would fain
keep terms with virtue and honour. Hm rather a good
sort. It will never do to let him go ; the church needs
him." And Pastor Siegfried leaned back in his luxurious
arm-chair and pondered the matter.
Had Gravensund been a man of no means, it would
have been useless to waste a thought upon him. If the
draft had been for forty or fifty marks instead of seven
hundred, and had represented the savings of some pov-
erty-stricken clerk, the Pastor would most assuredly have
forwarded it to its address by the hands of his curate,
who dined with him every Sunday, and who undertook
to fulfil those duties, in the way of deeds of charity,
which were too burdensome for the Pastor himself. Per-
haps in such a case he would have felt it his duty to in-
form the young man's family of the matter, not by any
means to shift the responsibility from himself but from a
sense of impropriety in being the sole sharer of such a
secret. But this was quite another affair. Gravensund
.was the heir, the probable sole future possessor, of an
enormous property ; his name was one of great weight
in the business world of Hamburg. To do him a ser-
vice was to place money at heavy interest, an excellent
investment for a small capital of Christian charity.
2
14 H7/r DID HE NOT DIE?
Pastor Siegfried took up the letter and read it a second
time. "With all possible dispatch," the request ran.
" Of course," thought he, " that's just what they all say
merely a phrase nothing especial." The next day was
Saturday ; nothing could be expected of a Christian
clergyman on that day, and most certainly not on Sun-
day. Monday, then, was the earliest date at which he
could fulfil the commission intrusted to him. Then
his eye fell upon the address at the end of the letter.
"Ebraergang, No. 10, up-stairs." Ebraergang ! It was
really hardly fit for a respectable man to go to such a
place. " I might send my assistant," said Siegfried to
himself; " he must learn how to find his way about such
places. Well, there's time enough." Then he folded
the letter again and locked it up with the draft for seven
hundred marks in a drawer of his writing-table. Then,
rising, he walked slowly to and fro for a few moments,
finally seating himself and continuing the work in
which he had been interrupted. It was the sermon for
the next Sunday, and the text was, " Inasmuch as ye
have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren,
ye have done it unto me."
Monday was another of those gloomy, rainy days so
frequent during the winter in northern Germany. Pastor
Siegfried, looking from his study-window, saw the fall-
ing drops dance upon the pavement and the passers-by
endeavouring to keep open their umbrellas against the
whistling wind. A mirror beneath their feet kept pace
with them ; it looked as if the whole pavement were a
sheet of water.
" I will wait until evening," he said to himself. " I
bad far rather it should be dark when I go to such a
detestable hole. I am not afraid, but it is not at all to
THE LETTER. 15
my taste to be so stared at as I should be if I went there
by daylight."
The weather was no better by night ; but Siegfried
resolved to be quit once for all of such a disagreeable
business, and sent for a droschky, into which he entered,
bidding the driver take him to the Newmarket.
The Newmarket is a tolerably extensive square in the
Jewish quarter of Hamburg, a most thriving place of
business for vendors of petty wares of every description.
The articles for sale, however, in the various booths Were
now covered with sail- or oil-cloth ; the fruiterers and
green-grocers alone left their wares exposed to the pour-
ing rain. There were only a few lanterns hung out here
and there, for, in such weather, scarcely anything was
bought or sold, and it was next to impossible to keep
warm ; even the pans of hot coals used for warming the
feet were of no use in such a wind.
Pastor Siegfried alighted from his droschky in the
neighbourhood of one of the booths, and looked about for
the entrance to the low alley of which he was in search.
Although he had not been in the place for years, he
thought he knew his way perfectly, and yet he was now
entirely at fault. He accosted the proprietor of the booth
who was about closing bis shop, which, as the whole
affair was upon wheels, he was dragging under shelter.
In answer to the Pastor's inquiries the man stared to see
so well dressed an individual in such a place and at such
a time, and replied " the passage that you are looking for
is directly behind you." The town-bred minister of the
gospel is not as easily recognized as his country brother,
and the man addressed could not have distinguished
either very easily, for he was a Jew ; but, with a Jewish
trader's readiness to oblige all, even Christians, he con-
ducted the Pastor a few steps back from the spot where
16 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
they stood, and pointed out a narrow passage between
the crazy tumble-down houses, only scantily furnished
with light in the part nearest the square. " You go in
here," he said, " it is not so dark inside. But the
gentleman ought to have a cigar. I have the best
quality, two shillings apiece. They cost me that, but
the weather is so bad that I have made no sales to-day,
and my wife and seven children "
" Here are four shillings, give me a couple," Siegfried
interrupted him impatiently, freeing himself from the man
and entering the dark passage, where he threw away
the cigars. He stepped cautiously along the damp slip-
pery path with a sickening sensation that he might any
moment tread upon some slimy reptile, until the way
grew somewhat brighter ; but he was breathing that foul
reeking atmosphere peculiar to such crowded human
dens.
A cigar was indeed desirable in such a place ; but to
smoke when entering the abodes of poverty would hardly
be seemly in a man of God, and he could not now have
far to go. He knew by the decaying sign-boards nailed to
the crumbling walls that he must turn to the left, and
thus he reached Ball Place, a small opening like a half
circle, from which led the narrow passage through which
the Ebriiergang was to be reached.
The Pastor found the state of the weather most favour-
able for his expedition, for the streets, if such narrow
alleys can be so called, were mostly empty and the pour-
ing rain had washed away some of the dirt that filled
them. There were no filthy beggars to arrest his steps,
no drunkards, no scolding gossiping women to be seen ;
and none of those wretched daughters of sin whose out-
ward uncleanliness typifies their moral degradation.
At last the Ebriiergang was attained. The gutter in
THE LETTER. 17
its midst overflowed its entire length, and the numbers
of the houses were almost illegible, so that Pastor Sieg-
fried stood irresolute. He was looking at a house that
seemed ready to fall to pieces, being only kept together
by the shabby dwellings that propped it up on either side,
and with a strong suspicion that it was No. 10, was half
afraid to enter such a tumble-down place. Suddenly
a woman approached him, so hideous, so offensive in
appearance, that he hurriedly descended several steps
into the basement of the house he had been contemplat-
ing, to avoid the odious contact. In the damp mouldy
room that he entered lived a family of street musicians;
they informed him that he was right: this was No.
10. But the address that he had with him said " up-
stairs," and the upper story of this house had no con-
nection with the basement, but was reached by a separate
entrance from without.
In order to find the "Marie Gunther, Milliner," in
question, Siegfried saw himself obliged to ascend two
crumbling flights of stairs, so frail and decayed that he
shrank with a shudder from committing his portly person,
to their support. The organ-grinder's wife good-nat-
uredly offered to light him up, and thus the Pastor
mounted without any accident and found himself just in
front of a door. There was no balustrade to the stairs
and no landing, one false step would have precipitated
both himself and the flights of stairs into the filthy alley
below. He never even stopped to take breath, but
knocked hastily at the door, as if in entreaty for admis-
sion to a place of safety.
To his surprise it was opened by a respectably dressed
woman who gazed at him in amazement and stood aside
to admit him.
" You are a physician ? " she asked, but dubiously, for
2*
18 WJir DID HE NOT DIE?
she knew the dispensary doctor, and this was not he.
The woman who had lighted him up had asked the same
question, and the Pastor had briefly answered " no," say-
ing to himself, "these people think every decently dressed
man must be a physician !"
" I am a physician," Siegfried now replied, in a tone
of great dignity; " not of the body, but of the soul. I
am Pastor Siegfried."
" Merciful Heaven ! Then Frau Hanking has told you
all about it ?"
The name of this " wise woman," Siegfried had acci-
dentally heard before, and he began to have a glimmering
idea of the critical moment in which chance had con-
ducted him hither.
"Are matters really so bad ?" he asked, in a tone of
sympathy, desirous of learning what had happened.
"As bad as possible, Herr Pastor," the woman replied.
" The poor girl has lain almost without consciousness since
yesterday evening. The boy screamed all night long;
but he has been perfectly quiet to-day. They are both
dying, I think."
" When was the child born ?"
" Yesterday morning. Everything seemed to be going
well at first ; but poor Marie is worn out with doubts
and anxieties."
A low voice from the adjoining room summoned the
woman, and the Pastor, left alone, had leisure to observe
the low chamber in which he stood. It was entirely des-
titute of furniture. Upon two old shelves were a few
broken articles of earthenware ; the stove had been re-
moved to the next room, and by day the place must have
been pitch dark, for it had no window, and the only light
in it now came from a smoky oil-lamp which had been
left upon the floor.
THE LETTER. 19
"Why did you delay?" said the voice of conscience
within the Pastor's breast. " Two or three days are of
vast importance in such a crisis. Who can estimate
what they would have been in this case ?" True enough ;
but who can provide for chance ? How could I know all
this ? A letter from beyond seas might easily have been
detained a couple of days.
The door opened ; the woman re-entered and said,
"My niece is very desirous of speaking with you. I
hope it will not excite her too much. Will you be so
kind ?" And she took up the lamp and led the way into
the bed-chamber. It was a low, close room, with one
window. Before this window hung a scanty, snow-
white curtain. A geranium and a rose-bush on the win-
dow-sill were withering for want of water. A covered
basket in one corner must have contained all the worldly
possessions of the inmate, for there was nothing else in
the room except two old chairs and a little table close
to the bedside. Against such a squalid, gloomy back-
ground the dim light of the lamp revealed, with startling
effect, the exquisite beauty of the girl who was sitting
propped up in bed with her baby by her side.
" A study from the antique," thought the Pastor, as he
gazed at the noble features of the invalid, who never
stirred as he entered. Only the eyes in that face of
marble glittered and flashed. She made no reply, except
by a fixed and searching gaze at the Pastor, to his unc-
tional " Good evening, niy dear child."
" It is not he ! it is not he !" she suddenly shrieked,
and thrust out both her hands as if to push away the
intruder. " How could it be Wilhelm ? Where is he ?
Wilhelm ! Wilhelm !" She sank back exhausted, and her
eyes closed, although her lips muttered unintelligibly.
" She is delirious," said the woman ; " it is dreadful.
20 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
But if the Herr Pastor will sit down for awhile, she
may come to herself."
" I will wait in the next room," replied Siegfried, to
whom the stifling atmosphere of the low apartment was
unendurable. " You can give me some further informa-
tion there without disturbing the poor girl." And he
returned to the adjoining room, followed by the woman
bringing a chair upon which she begged him to rest.
In answer to his inquiries, she informed him that she
was a distant relative of Marie Gunther, who had al-
ways called her "aunt." Marie had formerly occupied
two pretty rooms in her neighbourhood, where she had
easily supported herself very comfortably. Under some
pretext or other, she had moved away, probably at the
time when she had formed an intimate acquaintance with
the father of her child ; but she, the aunt, had thought
no harm, for Marie had always been such a good, honest
girl, and so industrious and capable too. Suddenly she
had lost sight of her altogether, for she left her second
apartments without saying whither she was going.
"All my inquiries were useless," the woman continued ;
"it is so easy to hide in a great city. I would not put the
police on her track for fear of offending her. I wish I
had done so now, for Heaven help us ! this is a terrible
disgrace. A week ago she sent for me to come here.
Want and sorrow had broken her down ; and when a
woman's hour is at hand, Herr Pastor, she always
thinks it may be her last, and it is hard to die alone.
She treated me very unkindly ; but when I found her
here on that old straw mattress, covered with rags and
so terribly changed, I forgave her on the spot, for it
wrung my heart to look at her. But, oh, the disgrace,
Herr Pastor, the disgrace ! Think of this scandal coming
upon our family, that has always been so good and
respectable !"
THE LETTER. 21
" Who cares for that in this Sodom and Gomorrah?"
thought Siegfried ; but he only said, " Do you not know
the name of the father of her child ?"
" Oh, no, Herr Pastor," was the reply, " she refuses
obstinately to tell me. She raves of Wilhelm in her
delirium, and showers terrible curses upon him, but it is
such a common name."
" Is her name yours also ?"
" Thank God, no ! My name was Gunther before I
was married, Johanna Gunther, but my husband's
name is Kurten, and he is a postman and letter-carrier
under government. We have an excellent income, and no
children. So I promised Marie I would take her child
by-and-by when the story has blown over a little, and
that I would do what I could for her and the child now,
until she can get to work again and things look a little
brighter.
"And if the mother dies now," asked the Pastor, " wbat
will become of the child ?"
" Oh, the child will die, I am sure, before the mother,"
Frau Kurten replied, "its lips are quite blue, and it
breathes with difficulty. If it should live and the mother
die, I would adopt it, we have always wanted children,
my husband and I, and it would be a deed of charity."
" Well, perhaps Heaven may even now send you the
opportunity for so good a work," rejoined the Pastor.
" ' Blessed are the merciful, for they will obtain mercy.' "
And, as if reminded by this quotation from the Bible,
he drew out his pocket-book from his breast-pocket.
" Here," he said, handing Frau Kurten a five-thaler note,
" give that to the sick woman when I am gone and she
comes to herself, to procure necessaries for her."
" Oh, Herr Pastor !" said the woman, taking the note
with reluctance.
22 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
"It is not for you, Frau Kurten," he replied; "but
your patient will need many things. What would have
become of her if you had not taken pity on her ?"
" True, true, I thank you for her. She has scarcely
anything to put on the child."
" If she is quieter now, I will go in again," said Sieg-
fried rising.
" She is quiet," replied Frau Kurten, " for I have been
listening as we talked. I will just see for a moment."
She returned instantly from the sick girl's bedside,
saying, " She is sleeping restlessly. I do not think your
reverence could do any good by going in there now."
" Then I will not disturb her. But I will come again,
say to-morrow about this time, if I am not unavoidably
detained, in which case I will send my assistant. If
there is any decided change, my dear Frau Kurten, let
me know of it as soon as possible, for, as you may
suppose, my time is greatly in demand. You know
I am the pastor of St. Mauritius, and live close by the
church."
" Oh, I know very well, I did not recognize your
reverence because I belong to St. .Michael's. I never
miss a Sunday at church."
" That is right. God bless you, and minister of his
special grace to the inmates of that room. Farewell,
until to-morrow."
" Good-night, sir," replied Frau Kurten, as she lighted
the reverend gentleman down the narrow staircases.
Below, the cold night air struck a chill to his very
bones. He buttoned his warm overcoat across his broad
chest, first assuring himself that his pocket-book was safe,
the pocket-book containing the seven hundred marks
that belonged to the sick girl in that upper story. In all
probability she would shortly have no use for such earthly
THE LETTER. 23
dross, and it would be the means of feeding so many
wretched heathen with bread from heaven.
The Pastor found his way out of the gloomy labyrinth
of alleys with far greater facility than he had groped the
way in, and the purer atmosphere of the Newmarket was
a relief to his lungs after the experience of the last hour.
There was no droschky in sight, and he was obliged to
walk home. He found, however, that exercise accorded
with the disquiet of his mind, and he had time to arrange
his thoughts upon the long walk. He came at last to the
conclusion that the Lord had ordered all things for the
best. If he had gone " with all possible dispatch" to
this girl, and had handed over to her the seven hundred
marks, what would have become of so large a sum in
case of the death of both mother and child ? It might
have fallen to the state, or Frau Kurten, who, by her own
confession, had no need of it, would have inherited it as
next of kin, a use to which the giver certainly had not
destined it.
No, the finger of the Lord was evident here, in case of
the double death of mother and child, the whole, or at
least a large part, of the money might be devoted to the
missionary society. Should they live, a few days hence
would be quite time enough for handing over such a sum.
Marie Gunther ought certainly to be in full possession of
her senses when she received it.
" How fortunate that Wilhelm is so usual a name ! for,
under all circumstances, it is better that Frau Kurten
should remain in entire ignorance, she might else cause
me no little trouble."
Thus Pastor Siegfried closed his self-communings, as
he reached his luxurious home in a tolerably contented
frame of mind, his self-satisfaction being considerably
increased by the contemplation of the elegance of his
24 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
surroundings. What a contrast did his room present to
the place he had so lately left ! With feelings of lively
self-congratulation, which he imagined to be gratitude to
God, he walked to and fro upon the thick carpet of his
warm study. Pastor Siegfried was far more of an Epi-
curean than an ascetic, he did not even affect any gloomy
views of existence, but understood perfectly how to stim-
ulate the loving offices of his flock in ministering to and
sanctioning what he himself styled the weakness of his
nature.
Some years before, when he first entered upon his
duties as Pastor of the church of St. Mauritius, he had
chosen a rich dark-green paper for the walls of his study,
upon the ground that his eyes were not strong, and re-
quired just this colour. Then, when visited by any of
his wealthy parishioners, he jested playfully about the
light muslin curtains with which his housekeeper had
adorned his windows, and nothing certainly was more
natural than that a loving flock should provide the
study of their beloved Pastor with heavy dark-green
curtains and portieres. He procured a valuable print of
some biblical scene ; and every visitor was a witness of
his enthusiastic admiration of it, during which he never
failed to remark how necessary to his spiritual and mental
culture the sight of such artistic gems was, and to lament
the decay of Christian art in these degenerate times.
Of course this was not intended as a hint, but it had
all the effect of one, and thus it came to pass that, in the
course of a few years, Pastor Siegfried possessed quite a
valuable little collection of engravings, and his small
library had swelled to very respectable dimensions.
The Medicean Venus or the Apollo of the Vatican
would, to be sure, have been rather out of place in his
house. But Christian mythology had many a figure
THE LETTER. 25
that could supply their place, and a niche here and there
iu the dwelling of the servant of the Lord was appropri-
ated to some graceful form of marble. The house at last
came to be quite stocked with various treasures of art.
Beneath its roof there was gathered a collection which
many a rich Hamburg merchant might have envied. All
display, however, was most carefully avoided, and Pastor
Siegfried well knew that, for most of his visitors, a val-
uable engraving was nothing more than any picture
framed and glazed would be, and that they could form
no idea of the value of a costly bronze or marble, exactly
similar, for all they knew, to what they saw daily in
many a shop-window.
So they smiled at the Pastor's love for such trifles, and
if they found it at variance with the profound earnestness
required by his office, or with the simplicity that should
characterize the Christian priesthood, certainly it was to
be excused in a man who was such a defender of the
faith such a corner-stone of the church. Who laboured
with such power and with such results in the vineyard
of the Lord as Pastor Siegfried ? Who was so eloquent
an expounder of the Word ? Who so zealous and untiring
in the establishment of sisterhoods of various kinds?
Who had such influence with the young men in training
for distant missionary stations, the youths destined to
preach the gospel to the unconverted heathen? And
who, beyond all, was so capable and admirable in all
business transactions connected with these missions and
with the church ? Why, he reigned almost with absolute
sway within the limits of his parish.
26 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
CHAPTER II.
THE HERO OP OUR STORY.
THE poor invalid in the Ebraergang grew no better,
and the next morning the nurse informed Frau Kurten
that Marie could not possibly live twenty-four hours
longer, and that the child was dying. Frau Kurten shed
a few tears, but could not help thinking that it was really
best that Heaven should receive them both ; the child
would then be safe, although had it lived she should
most certainly have adopted it, as would have been her
Christian duty.
And if there were no hope for poor Marie it was as
well that her release should be as speedy as possible.
Frau Kurten was no lady of leisure, and of course found
it difficult to take time amid her domestic occupations to
be with her niece. Frau Hanking was prevailed upon to
stop for an hour in the morning with the dying woman,
while Frau Kurten hurried home to fulfil her most im-
perative duties there, promising to return and stay until
her niece's eyes were closed in death.
When she got back at the end of little more than an
hour, she found the nurse with the child upon her lap. It
lay white and motionless, and Frau Kurten's look of in-
quiry was answered by an assenting nod from the nurse.
The newcomer took the lifeless little body sadly in her
arms and laid it gently down in the corner of the room
upon a pillow that she bad brought for her own use in
case Marie should live through the night. She carefully
covered the baby with a cloth and placed the old basket
THE HERO OF OUR STORY. 27
before it, that the mother, in some moment of con-
sciousness, might not see the little body. Frau Hank-
ing departed, promising to look in again after a few
hours. The physician had left word that he was to
be informed if there 'were any change for the worse.
There could hardly be any change now but the final one,
and where was the use of troubling him ? Frau Hanking
herself certainly knew as much about such cases as so
young a man.
Frau Kurten took her knitting and seated herself
beside the bed, dividing her attention between the shap-
ing of her stocking and the motionless, unconscious form
of the invalid. She reflected the while upon the wicked-
ness of all large cities, how unprincipled the men were,
and how easily led astray the girls, and then came the
commonplace wonder that the latter should be the only
sufferers, public opinion condemning them in every case,
and letting men go entirely unpunished.
" Aunt,'' whispered a voice beside her. Startled from
her reverie, Frau Kurten threw aside her knitting and
took Marie's damp cold hand.
" Here I am, my child, drink this." And she offered
her a glass of cooling drink.
Marie refused it. " Where is my child ?" she asked
wearily.
" I laid him a little while ago upon a pillow there
in the corner. He is better there, your bed is so
narrow."
" Oh, bring him to me !"
" He is sleeping so quietly."
" Well, never mind, then. Poor little thing I"
There was a pause, for Frau Kurten could not think
of any comfort to administer. Marie's eyes were turned
towards the corner where the child lay, but after a few
28 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
moments she raised her heavy eyelids, and, looking full
at Frau Kurten, said,
" I am dying, aunt."
" Oh, never think of such a thing I What, die? and
you so young!"
" I am dying, I know it. So young, indeed, do you
know, aunt, that I am not yet twenty years old ?"
The poor child spoke very slowly, and with difficulty,
and Frau Kurten begged her to be quiet and not fatigue
herself.
But Marie gently shook her beautiful head.
" I must speak, for my time is short. I would so gladly
have lived for my baby's sake. What will become of
him ?"
" Why, I am here, Marie, and I solemnly promise that
if he lives he shall be to me as my own."
" How kind you are ! Now I can die in peace. Let
his name be Richard, it was my father's name, my
father's, not his father's. Not Wilbelm, don't let him
be called Wilhelm. Wilhelm deceived, forsook, betrayed
me ! Wretched girl that I am !"
" My poor, dear Marie ! all will be well some day.
Only tell me who the child's father is."
"Yes yes when he comes back he will come
back, go to him ; but don't let his haughty mother see
you in his splendid home; tell him tell tell
Wilhelra "
Her lips moved, but Frau Kurten could distinguish no
sound.
" Rest a moment, Marie, and then you can tell me
who he is, and he shall do his duty by you," she said, in
intense desire to know the father's name. Marie lay ex-
hausted, with closed eyes. Her aunt eagerly watched
her face a change passed over it ; the features twitched
THE HERO OF OUR STORY. 29
for an instant the lips opened for a long-drawn sigh ;
then another sigh, but shorter and more gentle one
more it was the last, and the fair young form lay dead.
Her aunt bent over her and called her by name. She
chafed her hands and bathed her forehead, but in vain.
Marie was dead I her lips closed forever, and her secret
would go with her to the grave. Frau Kurten's first
sensation was one of vexation. One minute more, one
single minute more, would have told her what she so
longed to know. But then she reflected that the revela-
tion would have sufficed only to gratify her own curi-
osity, the child was dead, too, and there was no claim
to be made upon the father. Kurten would, at all events,
have to defray the expenses of the funeral, he was per-
fectly aware of that. For the credit of the family poor
Marie must not be buried from the poor-house.
As for the child, she had no duties to perform towards
it now. Kurten had not been very eager to adopt it,
but she would have taken it she was accustomed to
have her own way if it had lived. She closed the eyes
of the dead girl and shed tears again, for she could not
resist the mournful impression made upon her by the
squalid, poverty-stricken apartment, where lay two frail
bodies just claimed by death, who had taken them from
the hard, grinding misery of a cruel world. And she
thought of her own comfortable home, with its huge
tiled stove, diffusing such an agreeable warmth ; its
neatly, papered walls, the clock ticking in the corner, and
the wide sofa beneath the mirror.
Frau Kurten looked around and shivered. What
could she do here ? Watch with the dead ? Not for
the world 1 Her nerves, were not strong enough. She
would try to wait until Frau Hanking came, and would
then return to her neglected household. Her husband
3*
30 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
had not been as comfortable as usual during these last
few days, and there'was much to do in her home.
Then the thought of Pastor Siegfried occurred to her.
It was absolutely necessary that he should be informed
of Marie's death it would soon begin to grow dark, and
the good man must not be allowed to take a long and
fruitless walk. How did he come to know Marie ? He
had probably found her out in his visitiugs among the
poor he was so benevolent.
Frau Kurten left the room, locking the door, and in-
trusting the key to the organ-grinder's wife in the base-
ment, telling her, with tears, that mother and child were
both dead, if the child had only lived she would so
gladly have adopted it, and that she meant to have re-
mained until Frau Hanking came back, but that she must
go to Pastor Siegfried as soon as possible. Frau Hank-
ing would go up-stairs and see that all was right, and send
for the doctor if she could not write the certificate herself.
The organ-grinder's wife promised that everything should
be attended to, and Frau Kurten took her departure.
Pastor Siegfried received the sad intelligence with the
deepest sympathy, although he could not in fact decide
whether matters had turned out desirably or no. To be
sure, the seven hundred marks were not to be despised, but
at the same time it would have been of great advantage
to him to be young Gravensund's sole confidant in such
a delicate affair. As far as the young man's family was
concerned, it was doubtless happier for them that there
should thus be a release from the trouble and scandal
that must have ensued in the case of Wilhelm Graven-
sund's marrying the young girl to whom he declared
himself betrothed, or, if she had survived, with a living
witness of the connection, to haunt his path in life. Men
seldom stop to consider in such cases that. the " release"
THE HERO OF OUR STORY. 31
in question is obtained at the cost of two human lives.
If the thought occurs to them, they banish it as quickly
as possible. It is so uncomfortable to have our selfish
desires crossed by such tragedy to others that self must
be annihilated in contemplating it.
Pastor Siegfried gave Frau Kurten five thalers more
towards funeral expenses. "I was very much interested
in the girl," he said, thus giving it to be understood,
without saying so, that he had known Marie for some
time; " and the fate of these poor fallen creatures moves
me profoundly. Let us remember her in our prayers,
my dear Frau Kurten, she has great need of interces-
sion and pardoning grace ; but ' Judge not, that ye be not
judged,' saith the Lord."
Frau Kurten took her leave of the good man in a state
of great edification, and allowed herself the luxury of an
omnibus, so shaken were her nerves and so anxious was
she to reach her comfortable home once more.
Thank Heaven, all was over now except the funeral,
and the Pastor's money would help to pay for that. Frau
Kurten had some misgivings about taking the money,
but then Marie was not her own niece, and had really no
claim upon her. All that she had done for her had been
done out of pure kindness of heart, with some view, to
be sure, to her family credit. She need not mind taking
money from the Pastor, whom she possibly might never
see again. What a fool she would have been to refuse
his five thalers 1 She was far too practical a woman for
that, born and bred, as she had been, in a commercial city.
So she sat down once more upon her sofa with the
tea-table all spread, the lamp burning brightly behind its
white glass shade, and the hands of the clock in the
Corner pointing to a few minutes of the time when her
husband would come home tired from his rounds and
32 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
glad enough to find everything settled and done with.
He was not fond of changes, and although he had for-
merly wished for children, he was beginning to grow old
and fixed in his habits.
In a short time a man's heavy step was heard, then
the sound of some one carefully wiping his shoes, and
Kurten the letter-carrier entered. He stopped for an
instant in amazement at the threshold of the door, for he
had not expected to find his wife at home. When he
heard what had happened, he was evidently well con-
tent that his comfort was to be no longer interfered with.
So the tea was drunk in a most placid frame of mind, al-
though a certain amount of pity was bestowed upon poor
Marie, who had always been such a good and pretty girl.
Kurten looked at his watch, for his day's labour was
not yet ended. He had half an hour still to spare, and he
leaned back comfortably in the corner of the sofa beside
his wife. The subject of their conversation was ex-
hausted, and in the pause that ensued some one was
heard coming slowly and carefully up the stairs, which
were rather steep and poorly lighted. Frau Kurten made
no pretence of elegance in her domestic arrangements,
but all was clean and orderly.
Then came a knock at the door of the room.
" Come in I" husband and wife cried at the same
moment, and there entered Frau Hanking the nurse
with a large bundle in her arm.
"What ! is it you, Frau Hanking?"
" What is it ? What have you got there ?" asked
Kurten and his wife.
"Don't be frightened. I've brought you the child,"
replied the woman, seating herself without more ado,
and beginning to unwrap the coverings from about the
little body.
THE HERO OF OUR STORY. 33
"For God's sake, Hanking, what are we to do with a
dead child?" cried Frau Kurten, while her husband
added, " I will pay for its burial."
" But it is not dead," Frau Hanking replied, in a tone
of exultation,^" only look at it, it is breathing beautifully,
and has just taken some sugar and water. Now you can
keep it : your wish is granted. It is a splendid child !
A great strong boy, and with sense enough too, I'll
warrant me. Poor little man ! How lucky that I got
there in time ! I was just putting him in his mother's
arms, that they might lie together in the coffin, when he
seemed to me very warm, and old Frau Mu'ller, who was
holding the candle, said, ' Why, it's not dead after all 1'
And she was right! We took it down into the Muller's
warm room and she gave it a nice warm bath in her
dish-pan. All the children stood round delighted. Why,
when the little fellow moved and began to scream, I was
as pleased as if I had just brought him into life ! Dear
me ! all the children seem like my own until they grow
big enough to run alone. Frau Mu'ller wanted to keep
him, and she with her eight ! but I said, ' No, Madame
Kurten would never allow it, for she wanted the boy
herself, and was dreadfully disappointed when she thought
he had died ; and he'll be far better off with her than
with a poor organ-grinder who has hard work to find
bread for his own.' "
The Kurtens were greatly surprised, and made no
reply to all that the good-humoured nurse had to say.
Kurten ran his fingers through his hair and stroked his
beard, while his wife gazed first at the child and then at
her husband.
" Well, you've got him now 1" he said at last in rather
a grumbling tone. " I'm off, it's three minutes of
seven. Good-by !" And the door closed behind him.
34 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
" He is not so very much pleased," said Frau Hanking.
" No," was the reply. " I persuaded him at first to
consent, but we were glad when it was all of no use,
that is, he was glad. And now this conies so suddenly ;
you know men require to be managed."
" Of course, of course ! My husband was just the
same ; properly managed, an excellent fellow, but obsti-
nate, obstinate as a mule if suddenly thwarted. Oh,
we women need an immense deal of tact !"
"But, my good Hanking, what shall I do with the
child now ?"
" What shall you do with him, Madame Kurten ?
Good heavens ! First see that he has proper nourish-
ment, the milk of a good healthy cow weakened with
water. I will show you how to feed him, for of course
you are entirely inexperienced ; and until you have a
cradle for him you must take him into your own bed."
Frau Kurten gave a little sigh. " I know nothing about
it," said she.
" You'll soon learn," said Frau Hanking, " and it will
be such a pleasure to see him grow from day to day.
Here, take him, he will want nothing but sugar and
water to-night, and to-morrow I will come in early. I
must go now ; I have stayed too long already."
And she went, saying to herself as the door closed
after her, " I verily believe that they would have been
quite as well pleased if the baby had not revived. And
so well off as they are, too 1"
Frau Kurten sat down with the sleeping child on her
lap; she looked entirely helpless, and thought herself
really an object of pity. The boy moved restlessly and
opened his eyes large dark eyes like his poor mother's.
Frau Kurten started. She imagined that the child looked
imploringly at her, and something of maternal tenderness
SEVEN HUNDRED MARKS. 35
stirred within her. She lifted the little thing in her arms
and kissed it, and, as if by so doing she had made it
really her own, she said, " You shall be well taken care
of, you poor little creature, and when we are old we shall
not be so alone in the world if we have a grown-up son."
And so the Kurtens, who had been married about fifteen
years, at last had a son, for as the child grew older, the
beautiful boy with dark curls and large brown eyes was
known in the little world in which he moved, as Richard
Kurten. Richard himself never dreamed but that he was
the letter-carrier's son. When he was not quite two years
old, his adopted parents left the house where they had
lived so long, and removed to a distant part of the city,
Kurten being transferred to a beat in the vicinity of
St. Catharine's church, and no one in their new neigh-
bourhood knew anything of the child's parentage, so that
it was very easy to rear him without awakening the least
suspicion in his mind that they were other than his real
father and mother.
CHAPTER III.
SEVEN HUNDRED MARKS.
PASTOR SIEGFRIED wrote a very edifying and consola-
tory letter to young Gravensund in Mexico, informing him
that Marie Gunther as well as her infant son, who had
survived but a few hours, had been called away to another
and a better world. A relative of the deceased had, it is
true, taken charge of the poor girl, but he had fortunately
been able to afford efficient relief by means of the sum in-
trusted to him, most fortunately, as births and burials were
36 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
always expensive affairs. Then followed a solemn and
paternal exhortation and fervent hope that the misfortune,
which the Lord in his inscrutable wisdom had permitted,
might prove the trumpet-call to arouse the young man's
soul, and send him to the Redeemer, where he might find
consolation and be relieved of his heavy burden of sin by
true repentance ; in token whereof the writer asked that
he might be permitted to appropriate what remained of
the seven hundred marks to the missionary fund.
An exact account of the sum thus left in his hands,
Pastor Siegfried thought entirely superfluous. He knew
young Gravensund well enough to be sure that it would
never be required of him.
After the lapse of a considerable time, an answer to
this letter arrived, it was favourable, inasmuch as it
placed what remained of the seven hundred marks at the
Pastor's disposal. But the whole tone of the letter was
repellant. The money was evidently considered as the
merest bagatelle, no longer of any consequence to the
writer. There was not a word of penitence, and only a
formal hope expressed " that the money might be of use
to the missionary association."
" Quite satisfactory," said Pastor Siegfried, as he shut
up the letter in his portfolio with a contented air. " I
shall take occasion to make the missionary association a
present upon my own account."
It was his hour for receiving visits, and for some time
he was busied with all sorts of people connected with
his church or with the missionary association. After
their departure, just as he was thinking of going out, a
respectably clad woman from the lower classes was
shown into his study. Siegfried turned towards her,
and felt sure he had seen her face before, but could not
remember where.
SEVEN HUNDRED MARKS. 37
" Oh, Pastor Siegfried," the woman began, " 1 have
been meaning to come to see you for a very long while
you were so kind to us ; but I have so much to do I
could not find the time. Only think, sir, the child is
alive, and I have adopted it for my own !"
Siegfried could not at first understand what the woman
meant, for the thought of Marie Gunther's dead child had
never entered his mind.
" I beg your pardon, my good woman," he said, set-
tling the bow of his cravat and leaning back in his chair.
" I have so many things to occupy my mind. To what
do you allude ? It has quite escaped my memory."
"Ah, good heavens, Pastor Siegfried!" the woman
replied, putting her pocket-handkerchief to her eyes, " it
was such a sad, sad story. Marie died, you know,
Marie Gunther, my niece."
"And the child ?" exclaimed the Pastor, starting for-
ward with eager attention in look and tone.
" It is living, sir it was not dead. * Oh, how fright-
ened I was when Frau Hanking brought it to me. It
was on the very evening when I last saw you, sir, just
as I was sitting comfortably with my husband, telling
him " .And she related at length what the reader
already knows.
"The child is living 1" the Pastor repeated, revolving
anxiously in his mind the terrible dilemma in which he
was placed by this unforeseen accident.
"Yes, sir, it is living. It certainly is a special proof
of God's grace, and we childless people are very well
pleased, I assure you. The boy shall never know that
he is not our own, at least not until he is grown up and
we are dead, and this is why I have come to beg you,
sir, not to tell any one anything about the matter we
should be so sorry to have it known. The boy has no
4
38 WHY DID HE NOT DIE9
father, and so he is called Richard Kurten ; and if he
grows up honest and industrious he shall be to us as our
own."
" But tell me, Frau Kurten," said the Pastor, who had
hardly heard what the woman had been saying, "you
must have some suspicion of who the father is ?"
"Not the faintest, Pastor Siegfried."
" Did the mother tell you nothing before she died ?
You may trust me entirely," the Pastor continued, in his
most persuasive accents.
" Oh, Pastor Siegfried 1" and Frau Kurten's ready
tears began to flow " that was the worst of it. She
was just going to tell me she was just about to utter
the father's name when her voice failed her, and she
never spoke again. It was not to be."
" No, it was not the Lord's will," was the Pastor's
unctional comment. " Had it been otherwise, I might
have been able to assist the boy, and perhaps your-
self."
" It is hard, very hard, sir. If I only had the slightest
hint ; but I know absolutely nothing except that his name
is Wilhelm."
"And that is of no consequence."
"Of no consequence at all. In fact, I confess I had
half a hope that you, sir, might know something about
the matter."
Siegfried looked keenly at the woman, who thus be-
trayed the actual cause of her visit to him, but she evi-
dently spoke in all simplicity. So he replied in a tone
of utter indifference : " I ? oh, how could I possibly
know anything about it ?"
" I see, sir, that I was entirely mistaken. I thought,
perhaps, from your coming so charitably to see my
niece "
SEVEN HUNDRED MARKS. 39
" Why, Frau Kurten, I was only fulfilling the duties
of my office. The dispensary physician told me of poor
Marie" (this was a happy inspiration on the Pastor's
part), " and I immediately went to seek the lost daughter
of the flock."
"And because you were so kind then, my husband
thought it our duty to let you know the truth. I hope
I have not intruded too long," Frau Kurten added as she
arose. >
" Oh, no, I have been much interested," the Pastor re-
plied graciously, " in hearing of your benevolence. ' In-
asmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of
these ye have done it unto me.' Bring the boy up in the
fear of the Lord. You are not, it is true, of my especial
flock, but I shall certainly look in upon you if I should
chance to be in your neighbourhood."
And Siegfried was once more alone.
" A most vexatious affair," he said to himself. " What
was the use of that fool of a woman's coming here to
boast that she had adopted the brat ? I thought him
dead and done with, and here he is alive, while I have
laid out the seven hundred marks so excellently." It
was probably chance that directed the Pastor's gaze at
this moment to the little table by the window, whjch was
furnished with costly portfolios and writing materials.
" If I only knew nothing about it," he thought, " it
would not matter. I an* not responsible for what I do
not know. I must look at the matter from all sides. I
am the only living being who knows that the son of Wil-
helm Qravensund and Marie Gunther is alive, but if I do
not tell what I know, he is to all intents and purposes
dead. What was it the woman said ? ' It was not to
be.' I say it shall not be. The name of the father is
buried with the girl. Let it be so I am perfectly safe.
40 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
I would on no account imperil my name and reputation,
and there is no possibility of it here. Wilhelm Graven-
sund's son is dead, and the Kurtens' son is living for
the present. A large proportion of children die before
they are ten years old, and possibly this boy may be one
of the number. But that is no matter, no matter at all.
Who is the loser by the change of name ? Certainly
not the child. For bis father would never have ac-
knowledged him publicly, and now he will be well
cared for by excellent people as their own. Such chil-
dren are very much in their fathers' way, and Wil-
helm Gravensund may congratulate himself upon being
well rid of this one. And as for the family, it would
kill old Madame Gravensund if she knew anything
of the matter she, with all her pride in the stain-
less name that has been handed down through at least
three generations, an immense descent for this city of
parvenus.
"Then the Kurtens ? They certainly lose nothing. I
remember the woman's saying how much they had
wished for children, and could I be so cruel as to take
this boy from them? No, no, not for a moment." And
the Pastor paused and looked around him with a con-
tented air.
" What a fright the woman gave me ! But it was
perfectly groundless. The boy can do me no harm, and I
will not think of him any longer."
He shook back his thick hair, passing his hand over it,
as was his custom when wishing to have done with any
subject, and then turned his thoughts elsewhere, or at
least tried to do so.
Perhaps he might have expended more thought upon
the matter if he had known that the postman who had
delivered to him the letter from Mexico and the adopted
THE LITTLE FRIEND. 41
father of the child in question were one and the same.
But he would not have recognized Kurten, whom he had
seen only very rarely, and, since his transfer to another
part of the city, not at all. Besides, what connection could
there possibly be in the postman's mind between those
seven hundred marks from Mexico and Marie Gunther's
child? It had made no more impression upon Pastor
Siegfried when Frau Kurten informed him that her hus-
band was a postman than if she had said that he was a
tailor or a shoemaker. In the huge city a postman's
occupation was not an exceptional one.
It is very easy to conceive, therefore, that Pastor Sieg-
fried was able not only to ignore the whole affair but
gradually to forget it, at least so far as to feel no pricks
of conscience about it.
CHAPTER IV.
THE LITTLE FRI'END.
THE Kurtens lived in a very modest and narrow street,
but the back windows of their house possessed the ad-
vantage of looking directly out upon the spacious court-
yard and garden of a very large and elegant mansion,
an enormously valuable property, for it was just in the
midst of the city. It fronted upon Margarethen Street,
not in that part of Hamburg that has been rebuilt since the
great 6re, and consequently there was something quaint
and peculiar in its massive architecture that was want-
ing in more modern houses. It was assuredly one of the
finest and most aristocratic houses in the city.
4*
42 WET DID HE NOT DIE?
Of course the back buildings that looked out upon the
courtyard and garden beneath the Kurtens' back win-
dows were the least elegant part of the structure, but
Richard admired them extremely. There were two win-
dows in particular, hung with heavy crimson curtains,
that were a great delight to him. How splendid it must
be to live and sleep behind such curtains I What a beau-
tiful light the sunshine must make through them !
" Why don't we have curtains like the Gravensunds' ?"
he asked his mother.
" Mercy on us, child, how you talk I Why ? because
we are not rich as they are, and our house is so much
smaller. They can throw money out of the windows, if
they choose, they're so rich."
" Out of the windows ?" Richard asked, in wonder, with-
out, however, expecting any further reply. He pressed
his forehead against a pane of the window, at which
he was kneeling in a chair, and tried to see if there were
any money lying upon the pavement of the courtyard.
No, none. But perhaps there was some in the garden.
He could not see very well, the bushes were so thick.
If he could only walk about there 1
" Don't smear the window-pane," cried Frau Kurten,
who was busy at the other end of the room. " Just see
what you have done 1 There is the mark of all your ten
fingers ; you can hardly see through the glass. Run and
get the wash-leather, and make it bright again."
Richard looked in dismay at the mischief he had done,
and then got the wash-leather and rubbed away until all
was clear and bright once more, although there was still
a greenish hue that he could not rub away, and about
which he said nothing, for fear it was his fault. But
those windows over there in the great house must be far
brighter, or the crimson curtains would not be of such
THE LITTLE FRIEND. 43
a beautiful colour. And just then the fair, curly head of
a little girl peeped out from between them over the win-
dow-sill. She must have been a very little girl, for one
could see from her position that she was standing on
tiptoe to look out.
The head vanished, but appeared again a moment
afterwards higher up. The child must have brought a
chair and mounted upon it, for now she leaned both arms
upon the window-sill.
Richard knew nothing of Raphael's angels in the great
Dresden picture, or he would have thought how like the
little girl was, as she thus leaned, to one of them ; but
he felt all the beauty of the picture before him, and stood
at the window, leaning his head upon his hand, gazing
at it. The child reached forward to look into the garden,
and saw the boy. She gazed at him for a moment, and
then she smiled and nodded. Richard nodded in reply.
The little girl beckoned and went on nodding, nodding,
until suddenly a tall female figure in a dark dress ap-
peared behind her, looked out of the window, and then,
without more ado, lifted the child and carried her away.
Richard stood gazing up there for awhile, and then
he, too, turned away. " It has gone," he said, and he
thought, as he looked round, that the room had grown
very dark.
" What has gone ?" asked his mother ; and Richard
told her what he had just seen ; but she scarcely listened,
and it made no impression upon her.
Often as he looked up, it was long before Richard saw
the pretty child again, for Netta had been forbidden to
climb upon a chair at the window, and she was, besides,
playing elsewhere. And he could see no money upon
the courtyard pavement either ; so he thought, " My
mother cannot mean what she says, although, perhaps,
44 WET DID HE NOT DIE?
there may be some in the garden, if I could only get in
there and look. If I should find any, I would buy ever
so many picture books !" and he looked rather disdainfully
at the torn book before him, although it was his most
precious treasure. For the hundredth time he opened
it, and, sitting close by the window, which was open
to-day, he was soon buried in its contents.
" Little boy, what have you got there ?" cried a child's
silvery voice.
Richard started up. There was the little angel-head
stretched far out of the window opposite. The child had
evidently clambered up into a chair again.
" My picture-book," replied Richard.
"Let me see it."
Richard found the picture that he liked best, and held
it high up in the air as far out of the window as he could.
" Oh, I can't see it at all. Wait a minute !"
The child vanished, but was back again in an instant,
holding up a doll. " Can you see her ?" she cried.
" Yes," said Richard, " she is dressed in a blue gown."
" It is my doll ; do you know her name ?"
"No."
" Her name is Lotty. What's yours ?"
"Richard."
"Richard? Well, now you want to know my name;
but I can't tell you; no, I won't tell you," and the child
laughed roguishly. " But, if you really want to know,
I will," she continued. " My name is Netta. Mam'selle
Jager says Antoinette ; but mamma says Netta. Which
do you like best, mamma or Mam'selle Jager ? I don't
like Mam'selle Jager one bit; and if you like her I can't
like you."
" Oh, no, I don't like her at all," Richard hastened to
assure her.
THE LITTLE FRIEND. 45
" Then wait one minute," cried Netta ; " I'll come right
back; don't go away."
Richard would not have stirred for the world. There
she was again with a basket in her hand.
" Here I" she cried, and down flew a handful of splen-
did red cherries, but not one reached Richard's window.
" Oh, what a pity 1" he said.
" Why didn't you catch them ? Pick them up."
" I can't reach them," and Richard stretched far out
of the window, but he could not touch one of the
cherries.
" Can't you climb out ?" cried the child to him from
above.
" They won't let me."
" Oh, then you must do it when nobody sees you.
They won't let me climb on a chair, but if nobody sees
me, I don't get scolded at all."
" But may I come into the courtyard ?" asked Richard,
still hesitating, although the cherries looked most tempt-
ing.
"The courtyard? Oh, yes, it is our yard, you may
come in, and I shall come down and play there when it
grows warmer and ray cold is well. There 1" and down
came another handful of cherries.
That settled the matter. Richard's window was not
high, one bold leap and he stood without in the court-
yard. In the greatest agitation he picked up the cherries ;
he seemed to himself to be doing something wrong in
which he must not be discovered. He spoke not one
word, while the little girl above him chattered away,
throwing out more cherries until her basket was quite
empty.
"Now you've got them all," she cried, in a tone of
triumph.
46 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
"But you have none now!" said Richard, conscience-
struck.
" No matter for that, mamma will give me some more,
mamma always says we must give to those who have
nothing, and you had no cherries, you know. Oh, there
is Mam'selle Jager calling," she added in a great hurry.
" Come again to-morrow, Richard, do you hear ?"
The pretty child was gone, and Richard scrambled
back again through the window There he sat with his
cherries, hardly knowing what to think of the whole ad-
venture. He had really spoken to the little girl behind
the red curtains, and what had she said ? that she would
come down some day into the courtyard and play. Why,
she could come close up to his window and he could show
her his pictures. And the cherries ! the very first of
the season, he really had seen none this year beside them.
How surprised his father and mother would be !
He privately got a saucer, and put the cherries in it.
And when the simple meal was over, he placed his
charming dessert upon the table with a most triumphant
expression.
" Why, what are these, my child ? How did you get
them? Where did they come from?" A glance of sus-
picion from his mother, and his father's reproving tone,
made Richard's face flush for one moment, but he was so full
of his adventure that he told with beaming eyes how he
had come by the cherries. His words bore such a stamp
of truth that no one could doubt him, and the boy's de-
light was so keen that there was something touching in
it. Still Frau Kurten asked in a tone of some severity,
" How did you come to climb out of the window ?"
" Yes, your mother is right," Kurten added, " you might
have broken your neck. But we will say nothing about
it to-day, because you have not tried to deceive us, and
THE LITTLE FRIEND. 47
you were a good boy not to eat all the cherries your-
self."
Eat them all up himself! Why, it never had occurred
to Richard to do so.
" Come again to-morrow," Netta had said, and Richard
scarcely stirred from the window all day long, but no
Netta appeared. Most probably she had forgotten all
about it, for she was not alone as Richard was, she had
a brother, and a little sister, too little at present to be
played with, but whom she was allowed to hold quietly
upon her lap now and then. But when a few days after-
ward the children had permission to go out and play in
the garden and courtyard, Netta danced about with de-
light, and cried, " Then Richard may come, too, and play
with us, mayn't he, Mam'selle Jager ?"
Mam'selle Jager knew perfectly well who Richard was,
for when the cherries were missed Netta was questioned,
and she told with great frankness what had become of
them. Mam'selle Jager knew that the Kurtens were
good honest people, from whose son it was not at all
likely that the Gravensund children could learn any
harm ; but she judged it best to preserve the aristocratic
reserve of a wealthy family, and not to expose young
impressionable natures to plebeian influences.
" No," she said, in answer to Netta's request. " The
strange little boy must not come into the courtyard, for I
do not know whether he is a good boy or not. Now go
directly down into the garden, and I will come to you
presently."
Willy looked greatly concerned, for he would have
liked a new playfellow, and he ventured to add his en-
treaty to Netta's, but with no better success. Netta,
however, said nothing more, but walked into the next
room, where Madame Gravensuud was sitting with little
48 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
Anna in her arms, and appealed to this higher tribunal,
without hinting that Mam'selle Jager had already said
no.
"Richard is very good," she concluded her petition;
" you don't know how good he is, and he is not a strange
boy at all."
" No, Netta, he is not ; I have often seen him playing
so happily by himself, and sometimes helping his mother,
and he always looks nice and neat ; if you will only take
pattern by him, my darling, ask him to come into the
courtyard and play with you."
"Oh, Emma, that will be lovely!" cried Netta, "we
shall have such delightful plays !" and she was rushing
from the room when Madame Gravensund called her
back.
" But, Netta, what is my name ?"
"Your name? Why, one name is mamma, but then
you are Emma, too, you know."
" So I am. But, my child, these matters are changed
sometimes. I used to be Emma Bornefeld, just as you
were Netta Bornefeld, and my little sister. Now no one
calls me Bornefeld any more. I am Emma Gravensund.
And because our Father in heaven took our dear mother
and father to live with him, you came to us, and I am
your mother now, and my husband, Herr Gravensund, is
your father."
" Yes, you are my mamma, my dear, sweet mamma,
but your name is Emma for all that," said Netta half
in defiance, half puzzled ; she could not yet understand
the change of names.
"But you love me, don't you?"
"Oh, ever so much!" cried Netta ardently, opening
wide her arms.
" Well, then, to please me, always call me mamma, as
THE LITTLE FRIEND. 49
Willy does and as little Anna will soon. No one must
call me Emma but papa."
" Yes, yes, indeed I will, Emma, I will never call you
anything but mamma, for ever and ever."
Madame Gravensund smiled and kissed her little step-
sister, who had not been with her long.
" Now go," she said, " and ask Richard to come and
play with you."
" Oh, yes," cried Netta, whose mind had been quite
diverted from him, and off she ran.
Below-stairs Willy was standing at the door opening
into the courtyard, with his hands behind him, greatly
depressed, for Richard was there at the window, and
Willy was so sorry not to be allowed to play with him.
Netta came rushing down-stairs.
"Come, come, Willy!" she cried, "I asked mamma,
and she says we may play with Richard. Climb out
quick, Richard," she continued, running up to his win-
dow, "and bring your picture-book, we will go sit in
the arbour and look at it, and then play hide-and-seek."
" I will go and ask my mother," Richard replied ; " she
is in the kitchen."
" Oh, come !" Netta entreated, " you didn't ask her
before."
"No, no," said Richard, "I ought not; I won't be
one moment."
" Netta, that's a sin," said Willy, with wise solemnity ;
" don't you knoV it's a sin to do what you ought not ?"
" Yes, but it's not a sin to come into our courtyard.
Here comes Richard. Will she let you ?"
" Yes, I'm coming," he answered joyously, climbing out
of the window : and before ten minutes had passed, the
children were playing together as happily and intimately
as if they had seen one another every day for a year.
5
50 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
The picture-book did not occupy them long. It was
far more interesting to run around the garden, and to
lay out a beautiful little flower-bed in the broad gravel-
walk, and fill it with stemless flowers plucked from the
bushes all about. Netta took the command, but did not
refuse to follow any new and charming suggestion of
Richard's, and she grubbed and scratched so zealously
in the gravel that she got very much heated, and her
fair curls fell all over her face. Suddenly a shadow fell
upon the path before her, and, with a start, she stood
upright. It was Mam'selle Jager. The two boys had
also arisen, and were standing motionless on the gravel.
Mam'selle's cold glance dwelt upon each in turn.
" Did I not forbid you to have the strange boy to play
with you ?" she asked in a hard, stern tone of voice.
" But mamma said he might come," Netta immediately
replied, " and Richard is not a strange boy, and he always
looks so very clean, mamma says he does," she added
quickly, noticing that just at this moment Richard's
hands, and even his jacket, hardly deserved the praise
that had been awarded him.
" That is another thing," said Mam'selle Jager, " if
your dear mamma allows it, she is always so kind and
condescending. But has she been down here ?"
"No, I went and asked her," Netta replied.
" Yery well, go on playing," said Mam'selle Jager,
taking a seat upon a bench at a little distance. " Stub-
born little creature!" she muttered to herself. " Why must
she come here for my special torment ? She has turned
Willy against me, and he used to be a perfect lamb."
The children had been interrupted in their play,
Richard in particular stood still and stiff, looking venge-
fully at Mam'selle Jager. He had half a mind to run
home, but he did not, for Netta seized him by the hand
THE HOUSEKEEPER. 51
and cried, " The garden is finished now, let's wash our
hands." And they went to the pump in the courtyard, and
spent a long time in washing their hands so thoroughly
that their clothes came in for a good share of water
also ; but they laughed and frolicked about in the sunshine,
and their clothes dried without Mam'selle's knowing that
they were wet, for, instinctively, the children played as
far as they could from the bench where she sat with her
sewing.
CHAPTER V.
THE HOUSEKEEPER.
MAM'SELLE JAGER had been at Herr Gravensund's sev-
eral years. The young master of the house had not been a
year in Mexico when he was called home by the death
of his mother, and suddenly found himself the possessor
of great wealth, and the proprietor of a dwelling so ex-
tensive that he made use of only a part of it. Pastor
Siegfried had been a frequent and welcome guest here
during old Madame Gravensund's life, for she not only
shared his artistic tastes, but everything connected with
the missionary cause possessed the deepest interest for
her. This interest came at last to be almost fanatical,
she contributed large sums of money to the missionary
fund, and frequently promised Pastor Siegfried that at her
death she would prove how near the church lay to her
heart.
Her sudden and unexpected demise before she had ar-
ranged her affairs, caused Siegfried to regard her almost in
the light of a runaway debtor. He hoped to recover pay-
ment from the son and heir, and was determined at all
52 Wffr DTD HE NOT DIE?
hazards to maintain Lis position in a house that had always
been so ready to further the interests of the church.
He was, therefore, among the first to welcome young
Gravensund upon his return, and to express his sym-
pathy, not, however, alluding as the chief cause of bis
grief to the lost legacy. The Pastor's visit was agree-
able and consolatory to the young man, for in him he
thought he saw both his mother's friend and his own.
To whom else could he have turned upon the occasion
of his former distress ? They talked of those who had
gone, Gravensund mourned them deeply, and Siegfried,
who was ready and willing to speak of the deceased
Madame Gravensuud, overcame his dislike of the sub-
ject when the young man, with some embarrassment,
began to speak of the girl whom he had loved.
The Pastor gave him a succinct account of his visit to
Marie in the pouring rain, adding that he had ministered
richly, and to the great content of the dying girl, to her
earthly wants from the liberal sum transmitted to him by
young Gravensund, not a word did he say of his delay
in seeking her out, or of Frau Kurten's late visit. And
there was no necessity, either, for describing the sick girl's
condition in as gloomy colours as truth would have
required, he spoke merely of the relative whom Provi-
dence had sent at Marie's sorest need to take charge of
her.
The Pastor's terror was excessive for a moment when
Herr Gravensund asked for the name of this relative, and
he suddenly reflected that her name, even although he
should suppress it, might easily be learned by inquiries
at No. 10, Ebriiergang, where the organ-grinder's wife
probably yet resided.
So Pastor Siegfried not only declared that he had
entirely forgotten the woman's name, "a most provoking
THE HOUSEKEEPER. 53
circumstance it was one of the commonest names in the
world," but added that she had made an extremely
disagreeable impression upon him, from the vehement
fanatical hatred that she evidently cherished towards
Marie's unknown lover, regarding him as a personal
enemy, who had wickedly assaulted the honour of the
family. As for the child, Gravensund hardly spoke of
him, what could there be to tell about a baby who had
lived only two or three days? He inquired whether it
were a boy or a girl, and then dropped the subject.
The Pastor had not been very far wrong in reflecting
that fathers seldom trouble themselves greatly about such
children.
" The city is a desert to me," said Gravensund, " I
cannot feel as if it were my home, and here I am in this
huge empty house, forced to occupy my time and mind
with matters that do not interest me, and that are of no
real importance."
"But, Herr Gravensund," replied the Pastor, "this
is only an interregnum, you will marry."
Gravensund shook his head : " I cannot forget Marie
BO soon."
" The Lord has laid his hand heavily upon you, it is
true, but, my dear young friend,, who knows whether
you will not one day acknowledge that it is all for the
best ? Afflictions sent by Him are often blessings in dis-
guise. You cannot see this now, it would be too much
to ask of you. Those children of grace are few in num-
ber, to whom it is permitted to say, ' I glory in tribula-
tions.' You are groaning beneath a severe human
affliction, believe me, I understand this perfectly, and I
have been young myself, and know how hard it is when
the tempter approaches to say, ' Get thee behind me,
Satan !' "
5*
54 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
Gravensund winced involuntarily, he could not en-
dure to hear his love for Marie alluded to as the work of
the fiend, even indirectly. Siegfried noticed this, and,
as it was of the first importance to him to preserve the
young man's confidence, he continued :
" You would have atoned for your wrong, I am well
aware of that, but it would have cost you a hard strug-
gle with your family, with society, and with the world,
and I very much doubt, my dear sir, whether your de-
parted mother would ever have blessed your union. Per-
mit me, then, as one of your sincerest friends, to repeat
that the ways of the Lord are wondrous indeed. His
ways are not as our ways, nor His thoughts as our
thoughts. "
Gravensund sat silent for awhile. Of course he had
nothing to reply to the Pastor's pious quotations, he had
always been accustomed to hearing such introduced into
all conversation from his earliest childhood, and his was
not a philosophic nature, ready to meet all trials with
resignation. Still less was there in him the stuff for a
religious fanatic, be had simply remained passive amid
the religious influences of his education, and the constant
harping upon the letter of religion had grown somewhat
wearisome to him.
In fact, it had once seemed rather problematical to
Gravensund whether he should ever marry Marie: es-
pecially when separated from her by the ocean, without
any tidings of her, his attachment had seemed to him a
thing of the past. Her letter, the announcement of her
death, and the death of his mother shortly afterwards,
had so impressed him that the whole matter was trans-
figured, as it were, to his mind, and, at present at least,
he had not the smallest doubt but that he should have
made Marie his wife, he even felt that the mourning
TEE HOUSEKEEPER. 55
that he wore was as much for a well-beloved wife as for
his mother.
" With regard to your house, Herr Gravensund," the
Pastor began again, " you must procure the services of
some reduced lady as housekeeper. I may be of some
assistance to you in this respect, my circle is so large
that I can scarcely fail to find a suitable person for such
a position."
" Ob, my dear Pastor Siegfried, what a relief it would
be to me I Of course such an arrangement must be
made. Only help me in making it, and I shall be more
grateful to you than I can tell. I will take any one upon
your recommendation, if only I do not have to look for
her myself. I understand nothing of such matters."
" Then leave it all to me, my task will not be difficult
to perform."
" I should like to have it all settled as soon as pos-
sible, these petty cares are very annoying."
"I will do my best," said the Pastor. "And now
cheer up, my dear friend. A wealthy young fellow like
yourself has the world before him, and certainly is in a
most enviable position."
Gravensund smiled sadly ; he felt anything but con-
tented and cheerful, and when, shortly afterwards, the
gardener, the coachman, and the footman came to him for
orders, he seized his hat and left the house to be rid of
them.
As soon as Siegfried reached home, he wrote a note to
Fraulein Therese Jager, urgently desiring to see her that
very day. Theresc, who had known the Pastor for many
years, had good reasons for complying with this request,
and entered the pious man's study with a cold salutation,
accompanied by a searching glance, as if to discover in
56 WHY DID UE NOT DIE?
his face the nature of the communication that he was
about to make to her.
But there was nothing to be learned from the Pastor's
countenance, he simply said, "Pray be seated," and
pointed to a chair without rising from his own.
Therese took off her gray shawl and sat down, smooth-
ing the folds of her ample skirt with a dexterous hand as
she did so.
" How much do you make by your millinery establish-
ment ?" asked Siegfried, without further preface.
Therese gave a scarcely perceptible shrug, and an-
swered, " Hm little enough."
" Have you laid up anything ?"
" Laid up anything ?" she repeated. " You can hardly
know what living in Hamburg costs. My wants are few,
and yet I can scarcely make both ends meet."
"Are you in debt?"
" Debt ? I have some debts in the way of my business,
that I look to my business to liquidate."
" In short, then, you have not only laid up nothing, but
you are in debt, and certainly do not lead a very luxu-
rious life. These are the facts."
As this was not a question, Therese deemed it entirely
unnecessary to trouble herself to reply, and her large
half-closed gray eyes rested upon the speaker as calmly
as if his words did not at all concern her personally.
" If I could offer you a fixed yearly income of three
hundred marks," Siegfried continued, " with unimpaired
liberty and an almost independent position, how would it
answer ?"
" Almost independent ?" Therese repeated slowly, pon-
dering the words.
"At least as independent as your present position
with the creditors you mention," said the Pastor.
THE HOUSEKEEPER. 51
"What is the plan you propose ?"
" Young Gravensund is looking for a lady to relieve him
from the burden of domestic details."
" That is, Herr Gravensund is looking for a house-
keeper," said Therese in a negligent tone.
" You are too clever not to understand the nature of
the case at once," replied Siegfried with an ironical in-
clination of his head.
"And why do you wish that I should have the
place ?"
" Why, I thought you would like to have it if it were
offered to you."
" Then it is a matter upon which you are entirely
indifferent ?"
" Certainly not, inasmuch as I should be very glad to
see you so excellently provided for," Siegfried answered
as he leaned back comfortably in bis chair and lighted a
cigar.
Therese Jager knew thoroughly the man who con-
fronted her, she knew how far from frank he was, and
felt sure that he had ends of his own to serve in this
affair.
" If you have no special reasons for my accepting the
position," she declared after a pause, "I decline it upon
the spot. I know what a mere phrase independence in
the house and the service of others is. And in the
course of time young Gravensund will marry, and where
will the housekeeper be then ?"
" Oh, with regard to that, you can make yourself so
indispensable to him that there need be no talk of his
marrying. As far as that is concerned, Therese Jager
can do just as she pleases ;" and again he inclined his
head, but not in the least ironically.
" Hm he is beginning to flatter," thought Therese :
58
" he has something important at stake." But she said
nothing, only sat quietly, as if weighing the matter, with
her white hands crossed in her lap.
" Three hundred marks is not to be despised," Sieg-
fried began again. " And in such houses the presents
often double the salary: you could accumulate quite a
little fortune."
" And what should I have to do ?"
" With your own hands, almost nothing. Superintend
the housekeeping, keep the servants in order, occupy
the place of mistress of the house, in short."
" That is not what I mean. All that Herr Graven-
sund would require of me I could easily tell off on my
fingers, but you you are not usually backward in
claiming your pay."
"Aha, how acute you are!" replied Siegfried laugh-
ing, for, in fact, he was indifferent as to whether his fair
friend saw through his motives or not. " Really I have
no interest in the affair at least no personal interest."
" If not personal, what then ?"
"I always have the interest of the church at heart."
" L'eglise, c'est rnoi 1"
"Aha, not bad! L'eglise, c'est moi if not exactly
in the same sense in which the phrase was originally
used by the haughty French king. In truth, the ag-
grandizement of the church occupies my every thought
and feeling, and indeed its power is ray power," he
added, with great self-satisfaction, for he was far more
disposed to overrate than to undervalue his force and
influence.
"And your personal ambition and the care of your
finances harmonize extremely well with your ecclesias-
tical zeal," said Therese. " Come, Pastor Siegfried, let
us lay aside all sophistry. You wish me to accept this
THE HOUSEKEEPER. 59
position at Herr Gravensund's, and I wish to know why
you do so, and what you require or expect of me in
return."
" Well, then, I am desirous of keeping young Herr
Gravensund within the sphere of my influence, and wish,
therefore, to have some one of my devoted friends in his
employ. He is very sensible at present of his lonely
condition, and turns to me naturally as his mother's
friend, but my influence with him will decline as his tears
for her loss cease to flow, and he learns, as he inevitably
must, that so wealthy a young man can have as many
friends at his beck and call as he chooses. The cause of
the gospel possesses no interest for him, and I must be
very careful not to thrust it too persistently before his
notice. His mother promised me, oftener than I can
remember, a legacy, but she died intestate, and it has
escaped me. I do not yet despair of it, however, and
I must seize the right moment in which to present my
claim to the son as a debt of honour that it is incumbent
upon him to discharge. This is my first consideration,
and, of course, the welfare of the young man's soul is
very dear to me."
A smile of contempt flitted across Therese's face as
she glanced at the speaker. The Pastor continued :
" He has very little decision of character, he is yield-
ing and easily led. Such men are apt to go astray when
left to themselves, but may be readily won to the good
cause if they are influenced and guided with tact. This
shall be my task, and you, Therese, can be of great
service to me."
" I '( hm ! What can I do ? He will treat me, of
course, as an upper servant."
"Not at all. He might, perhaps, treat another thus,
but not any one introduced by me. I will manage mat-
60 WHY DID IIE NOT DIE?
ters so that he shall feel himself under great obligations
to us always supposing that you accept the situation."
" I cannot say that the prospect looks inviting. The
house will be very dull."
" It is impossible to know anything about that. How-
ever, I do not require an immediate answer, take time
for consideration. I have only one thing more to say."
Here the Pastor made a very effective pause, and The-
rese altered her negligent attitude and looked directly at
him.
" There is nothing," he resumed, " that would more
entirely conduce to veiling securely certain portions of
your past life than a residence beneath that roof."
Therese's eyes shot indignant fire at him for an instant,
and were then cast down as indifferently as before. Sieg-
fried was silent, as if this last discharge of heavy artillery
had conquered the position.
After a pause, during which he arranged the papers
upon his study-table, he began to talk of other things,
and only when Therese arose to take her leave he asked,
" When may I expect your answer with regard to the
matter under consideration ?"
"To-morrow."
"Very well until to-morrow, then."
Therese went home and looked through her accounts,
reckoned the number of her creditors and the possible
profits of her little shop, considered the Pastor's words,
and drew a comparison between her present " independ-
ence" i.e. needy existence and her luxurious life in the
Gravensund mansion. Then she pondered deeply Sieg-
fried's last hint, and muttered between her set teeth, " I
must." There were reasons why she felt under special
obligations to comply with the Pastor's requests, and why
it would have been extremely unwise to make him her
THE HOUSEKEEPER. 61
enemy. If she regarded his wishes in this matter, she
made him in a manner her debtor, and she was by no
means magnanimous enough to leave this out of her
reckoning.
The result of her cogitations and reflections was that
Therese Jager accepted the situation of Herr Graven-
sund's housekeeper, and had, as yet, no reason to regret
doing so. At first she had, to all intents and purposes,
reigned there as mistress, and ter dominion was scarcely
contracted when Herr Gravensund married a young wife.
Pastor Siegfried proved himself so skilful a tactician that
Wilhelm Gravensund never dreamed, when he brought
home his gentle, submissive bride, that the Pastor had
selected her for him even before he made up his mind to
seek a wife among the daughters of his native town.
But Emma Bornefeld always knew that she owed her
good fortune principally to her reverend friend, and the
admiring veneration with which she had invariably been
taught to regard him increased to such a degree after her
marriage that Siegfried might declare to himself without
arrogance, " I am master at the Gravensunds','' especially
when he thought of his power over Therese Jager.
On his wedding day Gravensund presented a consider-
able sum to the missionary association, and he was not
made of stuff sufficiently stern to resist the influences
now brought to bear upon him from all sides. He had
from his earliest years been taught to think that the
formal observances of the offices of religion a constant
repetition of sanctimonious phrases were sure indica-
tions of piety and the fear of the Lord, and he had never
doubted them to be manifestations of the loftiest virtue.
They had been very wearisome at times, and he would
gladly have occupied himself otherwise. But he truly
loved his really devout and gentle Emma, and was well
6
62 WET DID HE NOT DIEf
content to go diligently to church on Sundays and holi-
days with her, and to have prayers constantly said at
home, imagining that this was his natural manner of
life, and extremely well satisfied that it should be so as
long as his wife was happy. Two children had been
born to him, and he would have been perfectly happy
had not his wife's health, without any ostensible cause,
begun to fail.
He seldom thought of* the sins of his youth ; he
avoided all recurrence to them in his mind. From his
present outlook, his affection for poor Marie had been
sinful and degrading to the last degree ; he even, with
superstitious credulity, made an anonymous present of a
large sum of money to one of the city hospitals " in
expiation of a former crime." This he felt made him
quits with the past, his conscience was clear, he had
purified it by a gift that proved his repentance, and he
was sure that his state of grace was such that he could
cast the whole burden of his sins upon Christ.
And that bygone affair had been very nearly if not
entirely wiped out of Pastor Siegfried's remembrance.
He had no longer any dread of consequences that might
ensue, and it was not a pleasant subject to occupy his
thoughts. He was a lover of ease, and avoided the
recollection of the postman's family, who he knew re-
sided in another parish, congratulating himself upon the
convenient size of the immense city, where individuals
might be encountered once and then lost from sight for-
ever.
THE ADOPTED SON. 63
CHAPTER VI.
THE ADOPTED SON.
RICHARD lived on in the house of those whom he
called father and mother without a doubt that they were
really his own never attempting to criticise their treat-
ment of him, any more than to analyze his feelings
towards them. He looked on in wonder to see Frau
Gravensund so tender and loving to her children, and
Herr Gravensund playing and joking with them, yield-
ing kindly to all their requests. He would stand quietly
at a distance at such times, gazing silently, and a sensa-
tion of loneliness would come over his childish heart.
His mother never went up to bed with him, and, after
covering him up closely, gave him a good-night kiss:
she rarely ever kissed him. She cared nothing for his
play, nor when he went to school was she interested in
his lessons, for she did not understand them. She only
enjoined it upon him to study diligently, because "the
school is so dear," she averred, a slightly exaggerated
statement. Frau Kurten was not actually harsh to the
boy, still less was she a mother to him in the real sense
of the word. She would have been very sorry to part
with him, but he was sometimes a great burden to her.
She would expatiate to her husband upon the responsi-
bility they had taken upon themselves, lamenting tho
cost they were at for the boy's maintenance, the addi-
tional work that he made, the sewing and mending she
had to do, her worry and fatigue. She never could rest
when the day's work was over, she must slave and
deny herself for the child's sake.
64 Wlir DID HE NOT DTE?
"And he is a strange boy," she would add. " He does
not really love us." Frau Kurten did not understand
that the real affection of the parent first awakens the
love of the child.
" Yes, there's a screw loose somewhere about him,"
replied Kurten, without knowing what he really meant
himself, for he was a very narrow-minded, ignorant man
all the more useful as a public servant, perhaps. " A screw
loose, I say, for he sits there and pores over his books ;
he certainly must have read them through by this time."
" Through ? Why, he has read them through ten
twenty times, he always begins again at the beginning,"
said his wife.
" Well, well, I never heard of such a thing. When 1
read the address of one of my letters I know just where
to take it, and Richard reads the same thing over twenty
times. But," Kurten added with a thoughtful air, as he
touched his forehead with his pipe-stem instead of his
forefinger, " the boy is not wanting here."
" No," said Frau Kurten decidedly, " he is not he
sometimes surprises me, but he oftener vexes me. Chil-
dren nowadays are very different from what they were
in my tim$, when = " She paused, for she heard
Richard, who had been sent of an errand, coming in at
the kitchen door.
Not finding his mother there, he went into the next
room, the door of which stood open, without, however,
seeing his parents, who were sitting on the sofa, to which
his back was turned.
Kurten had not been at home when the boy had left
the house, so Richard probably.thought himself alone, for
without seeming in any hurry to give an account of his
mission, he stood still before the little bookshelf in the
corner of the room, searching among his few treasures for
THE ADOPTED SON. 65
a book. He was humming softly to himself, and suddenly
he began to sing aloud, in a ringing, boyish treble :
"There was a king once reigning
Who had a big black flea,
And loved him past explaining
As his own son were he.
'He called his-
He got no further, and his song closed in a quaver of
consternation, for Frau Kurten's hand was hard, and had
descended upon his ear in a ringing blow.
" You vagabond, you bad, disgraceful boy !'' cried the
angry woman, " where did you learn such low, vulgar
songs ? How dare you sing them in this house ? Where
did you learn them ?"
Richard could not inform her that the song was
Goethe's, our greatest German poet, for he was not
aware of the fact himself, and it is extremely improbable
that Frau Kurten's wrath would have been appeased
even by the mention of so great a name.
" In school," Richard replied with hesitation, he would
at least suppress the name of the boy from whom he had
learned the song, which he had thought only jolly and
funny.
" What in school ? Is this what we pay our money
for ? I will ask the schoolmaster about this. And now
you must be punished, march right off to bed, for I can-
not bear to look at you."
Kurten now thought his dignity required that he
should add his word, although he was usually only too glad
to leave all correction to his wife, for, when he returned
late and weary from his rounds, he cared more for peace
and comfort than anything else, and hated to be disturbed.
"How often you have been told," said he, "that you
must keep quiet when I am at home! You must learn
6*
66 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
to stop this whistling and shouting, or I shall have to
take you in hand myself."
This was a terrible threat, for there was something
very brutal in Kurten's nature, and any outbreak of
auger on bis part was sure to bring it into play. His
wife, who knew this well, generally avoided all exciting
causes when he was present.
She motioned to Richard to go, and with a scarcely
audible "good-night," he crept into his dark room, which
was little more than a closet. Tear after tear rolled
down the poor boy's cheeks while he was undressing,
his innocent light-heartedness had been so rudely inter-
rupted, he felt unhappy and forlorn, and came to the
conclusion that wealthy people were all very different,
because he had never known such scenes occur at the
Gravensunds'. But would Willy have sung a song about
the flea ? or Netta ? Well, Netta might, and then she
would have been well scolded by Mam'selle Jager, but
Willy, no, not Willy, he learned verses out of the hymn-
book and said them to Mam'selle Jager, and behaved him-
self always with the greatest propriety, although Richard
could not help seeing that he was very slow and dull.
" Shall we let Richard go without his supper ?" Frau
Kurten asked her husband after they had sat together in
silence for awhile.
" Of course," was the reply. " Where would be the
punishment if he were not sent hungry to bed ?"
" Yes, but suppose it should make him ill ?"
"Pshaw ! ill! I was sent to bed hungry hundreds of
times when I was a child, it doesn't kill one."
" It's very well for you to talk, but if he is ill the whole
care of him comes upon me."
" Then take the child something to eat, if you are
afraid, I have told you what I think."
THE ADOPTED SON. 67
Frau Kurten was silent, but in a few minutes she arose
and went into the kitchen as if to look for something, and
when she thought herself unobserved by her husband,
slipped into Richard's room.
What a blessing it would have been for the boy if she
had said one tender, gentle word to him, even although
she gave him nothing to eat ! But it was not in Frau
Kurten's nature to do so ; on the contrary, she spoiled the
effect of her kindness by her severity, and changed the
bread that she brought into a stone by saying, " There,
you naughty boy, is something to eat! You don't deserve
it, but you are always treated with more kindness than
you deserve "
Through the open door a narrow ray of light fell upon
the coverlet of the bed, as she laid the bread down upon
it. She could see nothing of the traces of tears in the
boy's eyes. For awhile his childish heart resented the
injustice of her words and manner, and he left the bread
untouched, but then he thought, " Mother means kindly,
after all," and he was very hungry. What wonder that
the bread was eaten with relish I
It was a perfect passion with Richard to wander about
on the wharves of the beautiful harbour, a pleasure that
was not often allowed him by his foster-parents. The
temptation to disobey was sometimes too strong for him,
and he had gone thither secretly, always confessing his
fault afterward, and taking, with manliness, the punish-
ment that was sure to ensue. If meadow, field, and forest
had been free to him, he might have been attracted by
such inland charms, but he had seldom been outside of
the walls of the extensive city, and knew nothing of this
phase of nature except from the villas and gardens within
the city limits. In the harbour alone he found food for
that poetic fancy that slumbers in the soul of every gifted
68 WHY DID TIE NOT DIE?
nature. Sometimes he only took time for one glimpse
from the Stint-fang, or Elbe-hill, of the incomparable pros-
pect the ships crowding the left of the picture, and on
the right the widening mouth of the river stretching far
away to the ocean, where, upon the horizon, water
and sky blended mysteriously, or, leaning against the
stone ramparts of the wharf, he gazed at the busy life
around, the going and coming, the setting sail and cast-
ing anchor, the lading and unlading of the vessels, an
ever-changing panorama of delight. And then the huge
ships packed so closely together! Richard was never
weary at home of attempting to draw upon paper just
such noble vessels, with masts and cordage all complete,
and to do this he must visit the harbour sometimes.
He greatly liked to descend the steps that led from the
quay to the water's edge, and had even formed au ac-
quaintance with several sailors and boatmen, who, on two
or three memorable occasions, had indulged him with a
short row in one of their little boats, either to some large
vessel or to the island of Steinwarder and back.
It happened one day that he was persuaded to take a
longer sail in a Blankenese craft that had brought a load
of fish to the city and distributed them through it by the
canals intersecting it.
"You can land at Blankenese, "the fisherman Knudsen
told him, "and run home from there. 'Twill do you no
harm come."
Richard knew that he ought not to do it knew that
he could not reach home at the right time, but the oppor-
tunity was so very tempting, the skies so glorious, school
was not in the way, for the holidays had begun, and he
had never been so far upon the water. He could not
say no, and he went.
Ah, how delightful it was ! The inevitable punish-
TEE ADOPTED SON. 69
merit was of no consequence his eyes sparkled and his
cheeks flushed. With ready hand he assisted the pro-
prietor of the boat in setting the sail, in hoisting the
anchor, and in arranging the nets.
Skipper Knudsen had waited for the ebb of the tide to
reach the open sea with the current ; the wind was favour-
able, the light boat flew over the water, and in a very
short time came in sight of Blankenese.
The fisherman did not like to part with the bright,
active boy, who was very useful to himself and his
brother, his only assistant. So he painted to Richard
in the liveliest colours the delights of a fishing excur-
sion, and especially of catching haddock with a line.
He described to him how the line twitched every mo-
ment it was not such slow work as catching trout, and
there were all sorts of curious fish to be seen, too, and
sea-spiders, and crabs, and oh, the haddock were so
plenty this year, such fine, large ones as there were 1
He could carry his mother a whole basketful of them
the next day, and then she could not scold. " You may
never have such another chance, and a Hamburg boy
like you ought to see and know all about fishing," was
the close of Knudsen's tempting proposal.
Richard looked down thoughtfully for awhile, and then
gazed back towards the Hamburg harbour that was no
longer in sight. He turned towards Blankenese, the
vessel was rapidly passing it, it was hardly possible to
land there now. Far out on the open sea the crisp-
ing waves were dancing and sparkling like gold, silver,
and glittering diamonds, the boat rocked so gently, the
air was so intoxicating, it was all irresistible, and
Richard sailed on.
As the clock struck one the same day, Frau Kurten
70 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
put the soup upon the table, for her husband was sure to
be at home in five minutes, and was very much annoyed
if he had to wait for his dinner.
" Where is Richard ?" Kurten asked as he sat down
at the table.
" He is late for dinner again. Heaven knows where
he is," his wife replied.
Now, Richard was usually quite punctual, but Kurten
never forgave the least infringement of the domestic
routine.
" It is too bad 1" he said, looking at his clumsy
watch. " Ten minutes past one, I must put a stop to
this. Hand me that cane."
Frau Kurten took the cane from behind the cupboard,
but before she handed it to her husband, she went to the
door and looked to the right and left to see if the boy
were not coming. Delay as she might, he was not to be
seen, and she made up her mind to the unpleasant scene
that was sure to follow, which, however, she thought
too necessary to allow of her interference to prevent it.
The cane was therefore laid directly across Richard's
plate, a dreadful hint of the dinner that awaited the boy.
Grumbling and growling, Kurten finished his meal,
frowning sternly as Richard's place remained empty.
When he was obliged to leave home again without the
boy's appearing, he enjoined it upon his wife to lock up
the truant in his room when he did come, and give him
nothing but dry bread to eat, he would inflict the pun-
ishment himself.
But no Richard made his appearance, and gradually
Frau Kurten began to grow anxious, all the more so as
she had no idea what to do to find the boy. To go out
and look for him in such a huge city, without any knowl-
edge of the direction that he had taken, would be simply
THE ADOPTED SON. 71
waste of time ; and, for the child's sake, she could not
bear to shut up the house, " For," she thought, with
something like tenderness, " if he should come back, tired
and hungry, and find the door locked, it would be too
hard."
She ran out into the street every five minutes, and
the neighbours soon knew the cause of her anxiety, and
often looked out of their doors themselves, for they were
all interested in the handsome rosy boy. At last Frau
Kurten took a chair and 'sat in the doorway, longing for
her husband's return, he could at least advise what was
to be done.
Kurten had hardly bestowed a thought upon Richard
during the afternoon, but as he drew near his home he
remembered the punishment that he was to inflict, and
felt an increase of irritation towards the lad for making
such exertion incumbent upon him at the close of a
fatiguing day. When his wife ran to meet him with
a hurried account of Richard's prolonged absence, his
anger vanished, and he stood still in blank amazement.
" I must go to the police-office," he said, " perhaps I
may obtain some assistance there ;" turning instantly
away, all his fatigue forgotten. For the first time since
her marriage, Frau Kurten was obliged to delay her
husband's evening meal.
It was scarcely to be hoped that the police could be of
any service that night, but Richard might possibly return
of himself. This possibility, however, faded as time
wore on ; and perhaps the husband and wife were made
more conscious, in these hours of anxiety, than they could
ever have been without them, of the hold the boy had
taken upon their hearts. He was the link connecting
them with the future, the one thing that made their lives
other than purely selfish.
72 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
And yet Frau Kurten's lamentations were eccentric.
" Good heavens !" she cried, " when people wish for
children, they little know what a grief and responsibility
they are. How often I think that if I had only never
gone to that vile Ebraergang, I should have been spared
a world of trouble and worry. And suppose the boy
should disgrace us ! Kurten, if that boy disgraces us, I
shall never survive it."
" Nonsense !" replied her husband. " If he should bring
disgrace upon my good honest name, I'll take it from him,
and he may have his mother's name instead."
"But that is my name, and I will not have it dis-
graced. "
" It is not your name now, it was your name long ago.
But where is the use of all this talk of disgrace ? How
can a child of twelve years bring disgrace upon us ?"
" That's true. Some terrible accident must have
happened, so many people are drowned here every
month. Why, only a few days ago, as I was passing
the Alster, I saw a basketful of One white cabbages,
that had just come off a market vessel, and as I stopped
to buy a couple, who should I see busily helping to
unload the boat but our Richard ! He was so hard at
work that he never saw me until I called to him. He
might easily have tumbled into the water then, and we
might have missed him as we are missing him now."
"Yes, I'm afraid something of the kind has occurred,
or he would certainly have come home by dark."
" He has never stayed away so before. Ought we to
go to bed ?"
"What! stay up all night? That I cannot stand.
I must be off just as usual in the morning, and it
would be of no use. If the police find him, they will
keep him until to-morrow, and if he comes home alone,
THE ADOPTED SON. 73
he knows where to find the bell. No, no, I have done all
that I can, and shall go to bed."
" I suppose it would do no good for me to sit up alone,"
said Frau Kurten ; " but I will put a lighted lamp on
the window-sill, for he would hardly dare to come in
if he did not see we were expecting him."
"Yes, that will be best," said Kurten, as he retired to
his room, "and if you hear the slightest noise, wake
me."
It was rather longer than usual, although not very long,
before Kurten was asleep ; his wife, too, yielded to the
fatigue of the day, and both husband and wife were
aroused from sound repose by a loud knocking at the door.
" What is it ? What is that noise ?" cried Kurten,
starting up.
" It must be Richard," his wife replied, hastily putting
on a few articles of clothing.
" Oh, yes, the boy I Young vagabond ! Wait ! wait !"
It was not Richard, however, but the baker, who was
obliged to rouse the household that morning, although he
usually found the door wide open.
Kurten arose, irritated and out of humour, for he had
to make great haste to be at his post in time. His wife
reminded him to stop at the police-office, to ascertain
if anything had been heard of Richard; and he promised
to do so, although he had to drink his scalding coffee
standing, which did not tend to improve his temper, and
then to hurry from the house with his mouth full, for the
duties of his office were not to be trifled with, and in all
his twenty-three years of service the letter-carrier Kurten
had never been late at his post.
The day wore on, and when Frau Kurten laid the
table for dinner she did not put on a third plate. No
tidings had been received of Richard at the police-office,
7
14 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
and Kurten hurried home sooner than usual, in hopes
that his wife had some news of the boy. The dinner
was a rather melancholy meal.
It was beginning to grow dark, and Frau Kurten had
just retired from her lookout at the street door, when,
with a long, narrow basket in his hand, Richard came
walking quickly along the street. He was almost run-
ning, and yet, when he came in sight of the house, his
steps involuntarily grew slower. He stood still before
the door, then went on a few steps, and as Frau Kurten
turned round in the room she encountered the wistful,
imploring glance of a pair of large dark eyes that were
gazing at her through the window-pane. She screamed
aloud, and, rushing out, met Richard in the passage, and
gave him a hearty kiss.
Then followed a storm of questions, mingled with re-
proaches, even before she knew whether the boy were to
blame or no for his absence.
" Here is a basket of haddock, mother ; only look what
splendid fish. I brought them home for you," said Rich-
ard, lifting up his basket.
" Fish ? You ? Where did you get fish ? Who gave
you the money ?" asked his mother.
" I did not pay any money for them," replied Richard.
" I will tell you all about it ; but see what splendid
fellows they are ! There is enough for three dinners,
and you will not have to buy any fish. I caught them
all myself, and I picked out the biggest for you. Knud-
sen, the fisherman, lent me the basket, and I am to carry
it back to him in the course of the week."
Haddock was her husband's favourite fish, and Frau
Kurten lifted up one of those that Richard had brought
to prove its weight ; but she instantly imagined that
Richard hoped to bribe her with his present of fish,
THE ADOPTED SON. 75
and so, dropping it instantly, she turned to the boy, and
demanded a thorough explanation of what he had been
about.
When he had made his confession, and his foster-mother
learned that he had not been in the slightest danger, but
that he had been enjoying himself greatly, while she had
been harassed by anxiety on his account, she fell iuto a
rage, and, seizing him by his thick curls, she proceeded
to box his ears soundly.
At this moment Kurten made his appearance. Great
was his astonishment ; and when in answer to his in-
quiries as to whether "the young rogue had been brought
home by the police," his wife informed him how Rich-
ard had really spent the hours that had passed so
anxiously for them, his wrath entirely mastered him, es-
pecially as Frau Kurten omitted to mention the fish that
Richard had brought home ; and the punishment that he
inflicted upon the boy was cruelly severe.
Richard knew that he had earned a flogging, and had
made up his mind to take it like a man ; but this one far
exceeded what was due to his fault, and his boyish sense
of justice was so outraged and his sufferings were so
great, that, when at last he crept aching to bed, there
was but one thought in his mind " I will run away,
and never come back. I will go on board of some vessel,
where I shall not be so abused and beaten. I will not
stand it any longer. I wish I had not brought those
splendid fish home ! How mother hurt when she pulled
my hair so 1 It was terrible ! Aha 1 She shall never
do that again, at all events. I know a way to put a stop
to that. Never again 1"
He arose very softly and slipped barefoot out of the
room. He groped his way about the kitchen until he
found the pair of large scissors that always hung there
76 WHf DID HE NOT DIE?
upon the wall. His father and mother were in bed,
and as the kitchen was quite bright with the moonlight
that shone in at the window, and the closet where he
slept was pitch dark, Richard began his work here, and
slashed away with the scissors at his dark-brown curls
most unmercifully. The scissors creaked as if reluctant
to undertake such devastation, and the hair was so thick
that it was impossible to cut it straight; but it was
hacked and jagged as close to his head as he could go.
As the curls fell to the ground, an expression of satis-
fied malice passed over the boy's features ; and when at
last he saw what a huge heap of them lay at his feet,
he passed his hand over his head with great content.
He experienced no trace of regret for the shorn honours
of his head ; on the contrary, he seemed to have atoned
by his deed for the degradation he had undergone, and
his tears were no longer bitter.
As usual, Frau Kurten was the first to enter the kitchen
the next morning. As soon as she opened the door, the
heap of curls upon the floor caught her eye, and she
stopped in the doorway with her hand upon the latch.
She saw immediately that they were Richard's curls,
and it was almost as if his dead body were lying there.
" The boy may have done himself an injury 1" passed
like lightning through her mind ; and the consciousness
that both her husband and herself had gone too far on
the previous day flashed upon her. In her sudden re-
morse she saw her treatment of her foster-child in its
true light.
" He has run away again," was her next thought; and
she turned and looked into the partly open door of
Richard's room.
There he lay asleep. His face looked pale and sad,
and was so pinched and changed by the loss of his curls
THE ADOPTED SON. 7f
that Frau Kurten seemed to see poor dead Marie lying
before her.
" I solemnly promise he shall be to me as my own."
These were the words that she had used to the dying
woman with regard to the boy, and her conscience asked
her now, " How have you kept that promise?"
Frau Kurten had none of the humility of the publican
in the parable, " Yes, indeed," she said to herself, as
she turned away much relieved, " I have treated him
like my own child, every one must acknowledge that, I
have done my best ; and yesterday evening well, every
one gets angry sometimes. The boy deserved to be
punished, but now all shall be forgotten. He shall sleep
until Kurten has gone, and then he can get the fish ready
to be cooked, I must not let them spoil, they are too
fine."
Richard did not make his appearance for a long time.
After lying awake so late, he slept very late in the morn-
ing, and when the bustle of the city awoke him he still lay
in bed, dreading to get up. In his dreams he had been
rocking gently upon the bright water in a little boat, where
he was all alone, with nothing around him but sea and
sky. He had not been afraid, he had felt unutterably
happy in the sense of freedom that possessed him. Sud-
denly he awoke, and looking around at the walls of his
narrow room, was reminded of the story in one of his
books of the cruel French king who shut up one of bis
victims in a dungeon, with walls so contrived that every
day, by means of hidden machinery, they inclosed a
smaller space, thus consigning the prisoner to a slow
and agonizing death. A child twelve years of age is
hardly capable of drawing a poetical comparison, but
there certainly are instances of living souls inclosed
7*
78 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
within narrow bounds that contract daily, and gradually
crush out all spiritual life.
Only one of all the gloomy, defiant thoughts that
had filled Richard's mind on the previous evening sur-
vived the morning light, the thought of flight. " Oh, if
I could only run away !" But he was well aware of his
entire helplessness, his outspoken resolution to run off
had only been an angry cry, an expression of suffering ;
and he remembered with a sigh that two years at least
must elapse before he could leave home to be bound as
apprentice to some trade.
"I will go on board ship," he said to himself, "so that
I can get far away." " But what a naughty boy you must
be I" said the warning voice of conscience. " A child
should love his parents, and be grateful to them. Are
you not grateful ?" " Oh, yes, yes, indeed, I am 1 and I
love them sometimes, but just now I cannot force my-
self to feel differently." And the boy lost himself in the
attempt to understand the conflicting emotions, self-accu-
sation and self-exculpation, that filled his mind.
CHAPTER VII.
THE PICTURE OP THE SHIP
THERE was no allusion made by his foster-parents to
Richard's shorn curls. Kurten was disposed to be angry
with the boy when he saw him, but his wife, who could
not help feeling rebuked by her conscience in the matter,
appeased him, told him she would say all that was neces-
Aary to Richard, and begged her husband to take no fur-
THE PICTURE OF THE SHIP. 79
ther notice of the affair, but to treat Richard as usual
when they all met at the noonday nieal. He yielded to
her request, but it was impossible for Richard to appear
unconstrained as before. For the first time he wished
the holidays were over, he was quiet and grave, did as
he was bade, and sat brooding by himself most of the
time.
Netta and Willy were playing in the courtyard and
came and peeped through the window, but Richard hid
himself in a corner, for he was ashamed of his cropped head,
and wondered how he should explain it to them. When
they both went into the house, he seated himself at the
window and began to draw. Beneath his skilful hand a
little picture was soon produced. There was the grace-
ful Blankenese boat in which he had passed such enchant-
ing hours, the man in the pea-jacket was Knudsen, and
the other, at the helm, his brother, while the boy busy
with the sail could be none other than Richard himself,
with his long hair fluttering in the wind. The waves
through which the vessel should glide were still wanting,
and they were the hardest to draw, the boy thought.
But he had watched them so narrowly the day before
that he drew them better now than ever. He was
buried in his drawing, and it grew bolder and truer every
moment.
He leaned back and held the picture at arm's length,
to observe the effect, when he was suddenly aware
of Netta standing close beside him outside of the win-
dow. The child had been looking at him for some time,
but the absence of his curls made her almost doubt
whether this were really he.
" Richard," she cried out, in a tone of wonder and
inquiry as he turned towards her, " how you look 1
What have you done with your curls ?"
80 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
The blood rushed to the boy's checks, and for a moment
he could not answer.
"Did your mother cut them off?" Netta continued.
" I think it was a great pity, the curls were so pretty. I
always ask Mam'selle Jager to curl my hair like yours,
I used to have curls too, but she says ' No,' and makes
these ugly thick braids." And Netta pulled one of the
beautiful dark-brown braids over her shoulder and con-
templated it with great disgust.
" But the braids are beautiful !" said Richard, only too
glad that there was something else to talk of beside his
curls.
"No, they are not," Netta declared, emphatically,
" and I wish they were cut off, that I need not have my
hair combed out, it hurts me so."
" Oh, no 1" exclaimed Richard. " Who would cut off
such beautiful hair, such braids? It would be too bad."
" But your curls are cut off."
" Yes mine oh, mine that's an entirely different
thing. I am a boy, and ought not to have long hair. It
ought to be cut, for in two years I shall be confirmed,
and only small boys wear long hair."
" But that's not so. You know Pastor Siegfried, his
hair is quite long, it is not pretty as yours was; it
doesn't curl at all, but it hangs down over his coat-collar."
" Yes, I think clergymen wear it so, often."
" I know they do. Two missionaries came to see us
last week, I'm pretty sure they were clergymen, they
both had long hair."
" Missionaries," said Richard sententiously, " are not
clergymen, they go to foreign countries to teach Chris-
tianity to the savages."
" Oh, it's the same thing, they have long hair, at any
rate."
THE PICTURE OF THE SHIP. 81
"Bat I don't want to be a missionary," said Richard.
" I'm glad of that, for I can't bear them. But what
will you be when you are a man a letter-carrier ?"
" A letter-carrier ? No, indeed!"
"What, then?"
" I don't exactly know," Richard replied, determined
to be silent upon the subject of his resolution to go
to sea some day.
" I know what I'm going to be," said Netta.
" You ?" cried Richard in surprise. " Why, girls
girls " He did not know how to finish his sen-
tence.
" You think there is no need for girls to do anything.
Stuff! I am not going to be a merchant, or a clergyman,
or a letter-carrier. I am going to be a wife, I shall be
married as soon as I am big enough, and live in a fine
large house, and have ever so many children, who will
every one have to mind what I say, and I needn't
mind Mam'selle Jager any more."
Richard laughed aloud, and his mother, who was busy
in the kitchen, was glad to hear him, rightly suspecting
that his little neighbour was at the window.
" Who are you going to marry ?"
" I can't marry you, for your room is too little, I don't
know who yet, perhaps the painter Victori ; his hair curls
beautifully, too, and he is dining with papa and mamma
to-day. There are a great many other people there too ;
we children had our dinner earlier, but we are to go in
at dessert."
" A painter !" said Richard, as his glance involun-
tarily wandered to the last production of his pencil.
"I should like to be a painter, and then," he paused,
but in thought he concluded the sentence, "then you
could marry me."
82 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
"Then do be a painter," said Netta. " Why, you draw
beautifully now. How pretty that ship is that you have
just made there ! It looks exactly like one, please let
me look at it in my own hands."
" There, take it," said Richard, both proud and pleased.
" You may keep it, I can draw another. That is Knud-
sen the fisherman's ship."
" Oh, Knudseu the fisherman's ship ! Do you know
him ?"
" Yes, I know him."
"How did you come to know him?" Netta further
inquired. " Is he one of your relatives ? Is his ship on
the Alster ? I might look and see if you have copied it
well. No ? In the harbour, then ? When were you there ?
Were you on board this ship ? I once went on board
a great big ship, it did not move at all. Does Knudsen's
ship move ? Oh, where did you sail to ?"
Thus the little chatterbox overwhelmed him with ques-
tions, to which at first Richard gave reluctant answers,
but when the grand fact had been once extorted from him
that he had lately been on a fishing expedition to the
mouth of the Elbe, the boy's heart expanded at the re-
collection of his delight, and he related all the particulars
of his excursion with such enthusiasm that Netta listened,
wide-eyed and open-mouthed, to bis story, and could
scarcely hear enough of it. She admired and envied
Richard, who could be the hero of such an adventure,
and would have given worlds to go upon just such an
expedition. But Richard informed her with dignity
that it would not do at all for girls. He could row as
well as steer, and Knudsen had said to him, " Come again,
my boy, you are very useful."
" And when are you going again ?" asked Netta.
" Oh, and Richard's tone grew very much depressed,
THE PICTURE OF THE SHIP. 83
" I don't know when, I shall not be allowed to
go."
" How tiresome it is not to be allowed to do what we
want to !"
"Oh, you don't know, you have fine times, but
I "
" I have line times ? And can't even take a sail in a
Blankenese boat !"
Richard had to laugh, and for the first time a dim idea
entered his head that it is seldom permitted to any one,
in whatsoever rank of life, to gratify the dearest wishes
of the heart.
"Antoinette! Antoinette!" a voice was heard calling;
and the little girl ran off, leaving Richard alone again,
but quite cheered up, because the remembrance of his
pleasure had thrown a sunny light around the dark sur-
roundings of his home.
Netta, in the mea while, leading little Anna now five
years old by the hand, and with Willy following her,
went down-stairs to the dining-room, where quite a large
party were sitting at dessert. Of course all sorts of
pretty speeches were made to the parents about the trio,
and Netta might have heard far more flattery than was
at all good for her if she had paid the least attention to
what was said. But she was entirely occupied with her
little sister, helping her to gather in her apron the fruit
and bonbons that were given to her.
"You mustn't eat them all at once," she said with
great prudence, "that would make you ill, and you can
take my peach in your apron, too, Nannie, it will not be
too heavy. My pocket is full, and I cannot hold it in my
hands, for I must take hold of your hand with one of mine
and hold my picture in the other, to have the peach in it
too might stain the picture, and I should be very sorry."
84 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
"What picture is it, my daughter?" asked Pastor
Siegfried.
" Oh, it is Knudsen the fisherman's ship, and Richard
drew it."
" Let me see it. Yery pretty, very pretty ! Really,
very nicely done," said Siegfried, nodding his head in
approval and looking at the picture. " Look, Victori,
there is talent shown here." And he handed the drawing
across the table to the painter.
" Not bad at all," Yictori declared. "There is talent
here. Who is the young artist ?"
"Richard drew it!" Netta exclaimed. "Richard, all
by himself; and it is Knudsen the fisherman's ship.
Richard went out to the North Sea to help him fish, and
he saw Helgoland."
" Richard seems to be a good friend of yours," said
Pastor Siegfried, smiling across the table.
" Yes, he is," replied Netta, " he ftften plays with us."
" He lives in the old house just back of our courtyard,"
said Herr Gravensund, adding, with a smile, " intercourse
is chiefly carried on, I believe, through the window."
" The boy ought to be looked after," said Yictori, " he
may have the making of an artist in him."
" I am afraid," said Herr Gravensund, " that his
parents would hardly agree to his adopting the profession
of an artist. I made inquiries about them when I found
that my children liked to play with their son, who seemed
to me a most excellent little fellow. They are good,
worthy people, but so wedded to the opinions of their
class that they will probably insist upon teaching the
boy some trade, which is a pity."
" The father is probably a mechanic," Pastor Siegfried
remarked.
" The father' is a letter-carrier ; his name is Kurten, and
THE PICTURE OF THE SHIP. 85
he is in the government employ, a vocation well fitted
to confirm him in any of his lower class prejudices.
But, good heavens ! Herr Siegfried, what is the
matter ?" Herr Gravensund suddenly interrupted him-
self, springing up, for Siegfried's face had grown ashy
pale, and he leaned back as if seeking some support for
his head, with an expression of such exhaustion that
Graveusuud imagined that his respected friend was on
the point of fainting, never dreaming that the sudden
attack had any connection whatever with the extremely
unimportant intelligence he had just imparted to him.
With an attempt to smile, Siegfried declined all offers
of assistance, and, availing himself of the vinaigrette that
Madame Gravensund handed to him, he replied blandly
to the sympathetic inquiries of his hosts and their guests.
" It is nothing," said he, " it will soon pass over. I
sometimes have these attacks, but very seldom, and they
are not of any importance. With your permission, I will
retire for a little while."
Herr Gravensund himself conducted him to a quiet
apartment, and left him alone to recover himself. Therese
came to offer her services, but they were refused so
brusquely and coldly that she withdrew greatly dis-
pleased, and paid him no further attention.
At the end of a quarter of an hour, Pastor Siegfried
again appeared among the guests, a little paler perhaps
than was his wont, but quite cheerful, and with assurances
of his entire recovery. He was as entertaining and
sprightly as usual, but an attentive observer would have
discovered that his cheerfulness was forced.
What a discovery he had made ! When, at long in-
tervals, the thought of Marie Gunther's child had oc-
curred to him, he had banished it as an uncomfortable
remembrance, because he dreaded to investigate any part
8
86 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
of his past life where he might come upon the memorial
stone of a buried crime. The deed itself its conceal-
ment, the suppression of facts caused the man of God
no remorse; but this possibility of discovery that had
suddenly arisen in his path naturally enough inspired
him with terror.
He had almost argued away the child's existence in
his mind. He had known that it was possible that the
father and son might meet face to face in the course of
their lives, but it would be as if they merely brushed
past each other on the sidewalk, a moment afterwards
they would be lost in the crowd of everyday life, and as
far apart as if the ocean lay between them. For what
can be more widely parted than the social circles to which
the two severally belonged ? They not only have no
connection they have no points of contact. And now,
what had happened ? Chance had led the son not only
into his father's vicinity, but even beneath his very roof.
He played with children whose brother he was with'out
knowing it, and his own father might take his hand, speak
to him, and admire his fresh, young beauty, without any
voice from nature to tell him " This is your son, your
own flesh and blood !"
"But," the Pastor reasoned with himself, "are not
affairs, in fact, just as they were before ? The case is
nowise altered. No man beside myself knows that there
is in existence a son of Wilhelm Gravensund and Marie
Gunther. To the father the son was buried with the
mother. All this is true, but then the Kurtens know
that the mother's name was Marie Gunther, and is it not
possible that the father's name may yet be discovered ?
Who can tell that there is not some ring, some locket, or
sentimental token of the kind that, meeting the father's
eye some day, may bring the whole matter to light ?
I
THE PICTURE OF THE SHIP. 8T
Good God ! and then it will be as clear as noonday
that I was the sole repository of the secret, and I shall
be ruined for life 1 I, a Christian minister, patron of the
foreign and home missions, Pastor of the church of St.
Mauritius here in Hamburg, it is the work of the fiend,
and is enough to drive one rnad !"
The Pastor had no idea of what might occur, or of
what to do to prevent it, but a dread, that was certainly
not without cause, and a plotting turn of mind, prevented
him from allowing matters to take their course without
interference on his part. There was no immediate dan-
ger, but the future must be provided for. Of course it
would be best in Siegfried's opinion, absolutely neces-
sary, indeed to separate father and son; but unfortunately
the Pastor was not their landlord : he could not eject
the Kurtens from their modest abode, nor drive Graven-
suud from his patrician home. If the reverend gentle-
man should fail to effect a separation, his future life
would be that of Damocles, the sword suspended above
his head by a single hair.
Without deciding upon any settled plan of action, the
Pastor held it advisable to put himself in communica-
tion with the Kurteus. Cursing his former thoughtless-
ness, he now resolved not only to reconnoitre the ground,
but to invest every point of defence.
88 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
CHAPTER VIII.
THE WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING.
THE next morning Frau Kurten was busy, as usual,
with her domestic affairs, and Richard, still quiet and de-
pressed, was sitting in the kitchen shelling peas for din-
ner. Some one knocked at the street door, and Richard,
as was his duty, got up and went to open it.
A tall man, with long, fair hair, that immediately at-
tracted Richard's attention, stood without, and looked
steadily at the boy for an instant before he spoke.
" Good-morning, my son. Is Frau Kurten at home ?"
" Yes, sir, come in, please," and Richard opened the
door of the sitting-room, " I will call her."
"A tall gentleman, with long, fair hair?" Frau Kur-
ten repeated to herself when Richard described the visitor
to her. " Who can it be ?" Of course the thought of
Siegfried never occurred to her.
" Oh, Pastor Siegfried 1" she cried, recognizing him as
soon as she saw him. " This is an honour, indeed. Pray
be seated." And she motioned him towards the sofa,
and seated herself in a chair opposite him.
" God be with you, my dear Madame Kurten !" Pastor
Siegfried began. " I have thought of you very often,
and have set out to come and see you a hundred times,
but you can have no idea of the multitude of calls made
upon my time. I am almost too busy to breathe."
" I know, I know, Herr Pastor. Why, every child in
Hamburg can tell some story of your goodness and be-
THE WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING. 89
nevolence." And Frau Kurten clasped her hands in
admiration.
" I am but clay in the hands of the potter," was the
meek reply. But," Siegfried continued, with a change
of tone, " I did not come here this morning to speak of
myself, but to ask after you all, and to learn what has
become of the boy, the child from the Ebriiergang, you
know "
" Oh, sir I" Frau Kurten replied, with a sudden access
of maternal pride, " he has grown to be a fine boy :
you saw him just now."
"What I that boy? Why he looked at least twelve or
thirteen years old."
"Just twelve years old, sir, you are quite right."
" Good heavens 1 how time flies I Was it really twelve
years ago? Impossible I Impossible! And he still has
no idea that you are not his real parents?"
" Not the smallest suspicion ; and he never shall have,
unless, Kurten says, he should bring disgrace upon our
name, and then we should have to deprive him of it
rather than have it brought to shame."
" A good name is, indeed, beyond price better than
silver or gold; but, my good friend, what do you mean?
Has your kindness been ill repaid? Is the boy straying
from the ways of the Lord ?"
"Well, not exactly that," replied Frau Kurten,
" but, excuse me. I had better send Richard out. The
house is so small, he might easily overhear what we are
saying."
" That would be very undesirable," said Siegfried :
" that must not be; but, can you not call him in here for
a moment? I would like to speak to him."
" Certainly, sir. Richard !"
Thus summoned, the boy appeared, looking scared
' 8*
90 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
and startled, as if quite unaccustomed to speak with
strangers.
" Shake hands with the gentleman," said his mother.
" This is Pastor Siegfried, whom I knew when you were
a very little baby, but have not seen since."
"Bless you, my son," said the Pastor, with unction,
extending one hand to take Richard's, and laying the
other on the boy's head as if in blessing. " I trust that
as your body has grown in size your soul has waxed
strong in the grace of the Lord."
Richard, as was natural, made no reply ; he was en-
tirely unaccustomed to such language, and the voice of
the Pastor, as well as his treacherous eye, inspired him
with distrust.
Siegfried inquired of him where he went to school,
what class he belonged to, when he was to be confirmed,
etc. ; all which questions Richard answered with a reserve
and shyness that were not native to him.
" And now tell me, my son," Siegfried asked in con-
clusion, " do you never forget to say your prayers every
night ?"
Richard's "No" was almost inaudible, for although
he could declare with truth that he never forgot them,
he could not but remember that he regularly fell asleep
before he came to "Amen."
"That's a good boy 1" said Pastor Siegfried, "a good
child should never forget to pray for his parents; you do
not know how much you owe them." And with a sig-
nificant glance at Frau Kurten, he dropped Richard's
hand.
"Now, Richard," said his mother, "you can go out
and play. Remember and be at home punctually at one
o'clock."
Richard involuntarily drew a deep sigh of relief and
THE WOLF IN SIIEEFS CLOTHING. 91
went, leaving his mother and the Pastor to continue their
conversation.
The Pastor had thought there was something con-
strained in the boy's manner, and, turning to Frau
Kurten, inquired if the child's conscience were quite
clear.
"That is just it, sir, it is not clear. Good heavens!
we all know what children and boys in particular are ;
but his conduct a few days ago was really too bad."
And she related circumstantially the occurrence of the
past week, laying great stress upon her trouble and
anxiety and Richard's disregard of his duty.
The Pastor listened with a disapproving shake of the
head and an expression of profound distress, while a new
and brilliant idea occurred to him.
He had come hither, driven by disquiet of mind, and
without any plan for the future ; but as he gradually
gathered from Frau Kurten 's discourse the true nature
of the relation between herself and her adopted child, a
scheme suggested itself to him, which, if successful,
would relieve him of all cause for anxiety.
" How melancholy this is," he said, " how it grieves
me, my good Madame Kurten, that the boy should give
you so much trouble I No, no, parents cannot reckon
upon gratitude from their children."
"And he is not even our own."
"No, he is not your own son ; your treatment of him
is all the more meritorious for that very reason, and you
are all the more justified in expecting gratitude for per-
forming out of pure philanthropy an action well pleasing
to the Lord, you were not prompted by parental in-
stinct."
The Pastor said this with a most impressive air, and
Frau Kurten was instantly aware of a halo of piety en-
92 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
circling her brow, while a tear of emotion at her own
benevolence moistened her eye.
"The boy must be tenderly devoted to such a mother,"
Siegfried continued. "The most thoughtless children
are capable of great affection."
"Oh yes well well enough," Frau Kurten stam-
mered in reply, for it occurred to her that it might sound
like a self-accusation if she should declare now, as she
so often had done, that the boy had "no real love" for
her.
But Siegfried knew human nature well, and his keen
eye immediately detected the true state of the case.
"You are a Christian, indeed, to try to spare the child,
who is doubtless dear to you," said he. "But you
may speak to me, my dear Madame Kurten, without
fear. The boy impressed me as being reserved and sul-
len, but I thought he was, perhaps, embarrassed by my
presence. "
" You understand him, sir, he is not actually awk-
ward or shy, but he has no real tenderness of heart, as
you say, Pastor Siegfried, none at all. No, no, I cannot
deny that he is entirely without it." And a tear of
self-commiseration stood in Frau Kurten's eye, for she
was seriously of opinion at this moment that she was, as
a mother, greatly to be pitied.
" Worse and worse," Siegfried replied, with a touch
of severity in his tone, "for it stands written, 'Honour
thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long
upon the land.' "
" I sometimes think," said Frau Kurten, " that love
and gratitude will come when the boy is older and can
understand all we have done for him."
"My dear friend, I should like to leave you that con
solatioo, but I cannot advise you to build upon it. Na-
THE WOLF IN SHE EPS CLOTHING. 93
ture has made the child more quick to receive impres-
sions than the man. When a child has left the parental
home, a hundred different interests lay claim to him, and
he scarcely belongs to his parents afterwards. The
boy's hard-heartedness," Siegfried continued, " is all the
more melancholy and astonishing to contemplate in this
instance because he has, probably, been brought up al-
most entirely by yourself, as your husband's occupation
necessarily keeps him away from home most of the time,
and children thus subjected to feminine influence alone
are apt to be particularly soft and tender-hearted."
" Oh, no, no, he is not at all tender-hearted ; and as
for my husband, Herr Pastor I don't mean to complain
of him, but he is no assistance to me in bringing up the
boy none at all ; he hates to be troubled about any-
thing, and does not even like to listen when there is
anything unpleasant to relate. If I ask him for advice
in any matter with regard to Richard, it is always
' What affair is it of mine ?' He only rarely interferes
at all, and then he is sure to be so violent."
" Yes, yes, I understand it, my good Madame Kurten,"
Siegfried replied, in the tone of sympathy that he knew
so well how to assume, continuing with rather bold but
all-convincing logic : " Those women whose gentle na-
tures most thirst for affection are the very ones doomed
to suffer and be misunderstood in this world to be
wounded and crushed wherever they turn. But you
know I am a shepherd of souls, and, through the grace
of the Lord, I am often permitted to bind up the wounds
of the spirit and to refresh the weary and heavy-laden.
Confide your griefs to me, and we will advise together con-
cerning what had best be done to make your path in life
easier and to provide for the welfare of the boy's soul."
" Oh, you are too kind, sir ! But what can be done ?
94 WHT DID HE NOT NOT DIE?
I must do my best to bring the boy up to be a good,
honest man."
" Most certainly, and remember that nothing that
you do is forgotten by the Lord, but will be laid to your
account by Him against the great day of reckoning.
Happy those who shall then find a long account in their
favour. And you will permit me to lend you a helping
hand, at least in so far as I may be able to influence the
child in a closer acquaintance with him."
" Oh, Herr Pastor," cried Frau Kurten, in an ecstasy,
" if you would condescend so far, it would be such a great
thing for Richard !"
" It would be a great happiness for me, dear Frau
Kurten," the pious man replied, " the happiness of
saving a human soul. You tell me the boy is not with-
out talent. Who knows but that I may be able to con-
duce to his future advancement? He must, however,
prove himself docile and humble: his stubborn spirit
must be broken, he must taste and see that the Lord
is good."
Frau Kurten could not remember saying that Rich-
ard's was a stubborn spirit ; but every word that the
Pastor uttered sounded so gentle and benevolent, so good
and magnanimous, that she really thought this visit and
the worthy man's offer would be of the greatest advan-
tage to herself and the boy. And when the Pastor
shortly took his departure, he left her firmly convinced
that Richard was a very naughty boy, whom she had
always treated with too much leniency, but that all
would go well now if she only followed blindly Pastor
Siegfried's counsel and advice.
Kurten, of course, would not share her enthusiasm,
but now, with the Pastor's assistance, she had discov-
ered a cause for all their disputes she was misunder-
THE CHILD FROM THE EBRAERGANO. 95
stood : her own husband did not understand her. There
was something delightfully miserable in the thought,
her hard fate must be endured, and she was filled with an
extremely comfortable sense of superiority. She was
colder and harsher than before to Richard ; she deemed
it her duty to be so, reflecting that, since kindness had
been tried in vain with the boy, a certain degree of se-
verity must be resorted to.
CHAPTER IX.
THE CHILD FROM THE EBRAERGANQ.
WHEN Richard had announced to his mother the vis-
itor with long, light hair, he returned to the kitchen, and
was about to continue shelling his peas when his mother's
exclamation, as she opened the door of the sitting-room,
"Oh, Pastor Siegfried I" fell upon his ear. That, then,
was Pastor Siegfried, of whom Netta and Willy so often
spoke, of course the man was an object of great interest
to him.
" I will tell Netta about it," be thought, and wondered
if he could not go into the next room upon some pretext
to have another look at the Pastor. He stood outside for
a minute listening to the man's voice.
Who could the child from the Ebriiergang be, about
whom the Pastor was inquiring ? Richard had never
heard of him.
Frau Kurten's reply, in her surprise at the Pastor's
visit, was louder than was prudent, and Richard learned
who the child was.
96 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
This was the cause of his scared, shy look when his
mother called him into the room.
When Frau Kurten told him to go and play, he directed
his steps towards the neighbouring square, the Hop-
market, where he was always sure of finding playmates.
But to-day his only thought was to avoid them ; and he
made a wide circuit that he might not encounter a group
of boys playing ball.
Half of the great square serves for a market-place ;
around the basin of a fountain in its midst fishwives
ply their trade, and there are butchers' stalls and green-
grocers' shops all along this half of the square. Richard
passed by, scarcely glancing at what usually afforded
him rich material for interest and observation, crossed
< ? the road that divides the Hop-market into two parts, and
gained the church of St. Nicolas that was then building.
The workmen were all good friends of his ; he often
talked with them, and did many a little service for them
while he was watching them at work, so that he had free
access to the building, to which there was as yet no
admission for the public. ^
A mason called to him to run and fetch him a can
of beer; but Richard pretended not to hear him, and
went on, looking for some quiet, retired corner. There
was noise and confusion everywhere ; the din was insup-
portable.
" If I were only out in a little boat alone on the quiet
water, where no one could see me!" thought Richard,
as he passed a low door at the back of the building. It
stood ajar, and he entered.
Here it was much quieter. To be sure, some work-
men were busy even here, but they made no noise, and
there was no one near the chancel. The roar of the
great city was but as the murmur of the sea in the
THE CHILD FROM THE EBRAERGANG. 97
distance, so muffled was it by the thick walls of the
cathedral, and the footsteps of the lonely boy re-echoed
amid the Gothic arches.
Richard walked round the chancel, and sat down be-
hind it, so that 110 one entering the place could have seen
him.
It was a strange place for a child, for a thoughtless
boy of twelve, who, nevertheless, was not blind to the
architectural beauty of the temple, although he felt no-
thing of its sacredness in a Christian sense. He had not
come hither to wrestle with the Lord in prayer, but im-
pelled by the instinct that drives the mortally wounded
deer to the deepest seclusion of the forest. He longed
for solitude ; and what can be more difficult to find in a
huge city, if we leave out of the question that solitude
which every one has felt 'midst the crowd, the hum, the
shock of men' ?
" I am the child from the Ebraergang, the child from
the Ebraergang," rang unceasingly in the boy's ears,
and the ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet.
" Who am I, then ? Who are my parents ? Are father
and mother not my father and mother ? No, no, they
are not !"
He pondered this deeply, and began to understand much
that had hitherto seemed strange and odd to him. Was
he entirely unhappy iu this discovery ? No, he was
conscious of relief from a certain cause for self-accusation ;
he now knew that she whom he had called nlother had
not loved him, and he could see why Kurten had never
displayed any paternal tenderness towards him. That
was the reason the Gravensunds were so different. But
who was he, then ? Why did he not live with his real
parents, with his own mother ? Where could she be ?
Ah, his own mother would have loved him dearly, and
9
98 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
how he would have loved her ! Why had she let him
be taken from her ? She must be dead, or it never could
have happened.
Ebriiergang ! Richard had heard the name before, but
where it was he did not know. He was perfectly aware
that only the lowest and filthiest of alleys in Hamburg
could be called a " Gang." " And," thought he, " if my
parents lived in such a place, they must have been very
poor when I was born there. But then I may have been
left in charge of some one who lived there, and my father
and mother may have been wealthy people."
This idea pleased the boy greatly, and he dwelt upon
it until he half-conceived himself a prince in disguise.
But not for long. He was quite clever enough to under-
stand that the son of wealthy parents would have
been differently nurtured, and that Frau Kurten must
have been performing a deed of charity in adopting him.
His life would have been a very different one if he had
belonged to rich relatives. " I might have read and
drawn then as much as I chose," he said to himself. " I
should not have had to black boots or sweep rooms, and
I should never have been flogged or have had my hair
pulled. I really want to run away now, for I am nothing
to them, and I need not, the fifth commandment does
not apply to me.
" Still, they give me food and clothing, and send me to
school, although I am not their son. Why do they do
it ? If I were nothing to them they would let me alone.
A child from the Ebraergang ! It must be horribly dirty
and disgusting there. I hate to look down those low
courts and alleys. Our street is quite nice, notAS pretty
as th^ Gravensunds', of course,- but neat and clean.
Mother cannot afford to keep a.servant, and it is all right
for me to black the boots and shell the peas ; her own son,
THE CHILD FROM THE EBRAERGANG. 99
if she had one, would' have to do it. And the peas for
to-day are not finished," he exclaimed, starting up. " I
must go home ! I wonder if it is one o'clock ; I can tell
as soon as I get into the street, if the gentlemen are
going towards the Exchange, it is near one. We must
have the peas to-morrow, for mother can't have shelled
them with Pastor Siegfried there. It. is not my fault,
she can't blame me, for she sent me away herself, and I
shall be at home by one, the people are walking very
slowly to the Exchange. I wish my father were one of
them, and then I could be a merchant, too. No I
wouldn't for I do hate sums so ! I am the child
from the Ebraergang ! How strange it is ! Hm ! sup-
pose I had grown up there, what should I be doing now ?
going out begging, I suspect. It's very queer that I have
never even seen the Ebraergang. Thank Heaven, I didn't
grow up there. Although then I might have gone to
sea, for any one tall and strong can do that, and I am
very strong, I'm sure they would take me."
These were some of the thoughts and imaginings that
teemed in the boy's brain as he walked home, and when
he reached the Kurtens' door he had forgotten all about
the prince in disguise. He remembered whence he had
been taken, and was grateful that he had such a snug,
neat home to come to.
Frau Kurten's thoughts were too full of the Pastor's
visit and conversation to allow her to notice Richard's
excitement. Neither she nor her husband observed how
the boy's large dark eyes were turned, first to one and
then to the other, with a dreamy, speculative gaze of in-
quiry. Nor did they remark that, when dinner was over,
he sat lost in reverie, entirely idle, which was very unlike
him ; they were satisfied if he was quiet, and had no idea
that his great secret possessed him entirely.
100 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
A few days afterwards a handsome, decently dressed
boy wandered through the low alleys of the poorest
quarter of the city. He walked close to the houses and
looked about him with a half-terrified gaze. Where any
children were at play be hastened his steps, for they ad-
dressed him now and then, jeering and laughing at him.
They saw immediately that the boy did not belong there.
He did not venture to ask the way, but groped along the
labyrinth of courts and alleys until he found the Ebrtier-
gang. There he looked eagerly at every house, but no
inner voice pointed out to him the one he sought ; he
could not know that it was the most tumble-down of all
those crazy tenements. He was once more passing
along the crooked alley when he heard a crowd of
young ragamuffins in full pursuit of him, as be imagined.
Most likely they were only playing some rude game, but
to him they were an angry mob of persecutors, and in
terror he flew along narrow passages and a labyrinth of
courts until, at last, he regained the Newmarket. For a
couple of days his drawing-book was filled with pictures
of old crumbling houses, with stairs and doorways falling
to decay, and, if his pillow had been watched at night,
strange mutterings might have been heard from the boy's
lips in his sleep of Ebraergang, Trampgang, and Ball
Place, as he tossed restlessly on his little bed.
THE CONSPIRACY. 101
CHAPTER X.
THE CONSPIRACY.
AGITATING as was the secret that Richard now carried
in his breast, it was chiefly so on account of its novelty,
and as time wore on it naturally lost that prominence in
his mind that it had acquired at first.
Happily it did not long disturb his cheerfulness, and
the mystery lost its significance except when unforeseen
and unexpected circumstances in his young life recalled
it vividly to his memory and made it serve precocious
development of the boy's intellect.
This was by no means the case with Pastor Siegfried,
for the same secret was constantly shouted in his ear by
his guilty conscience. Yet, had the stings of conscience
been all that he had to contend with, his equanimity
was too great to be long disturbed by such a trifle.
But his reputation ! his good name 1 " A good name
is better than silver and gold," he had declared to Frau
Kurten ; and what greater loss could there be than the loss
of such a name as that of the Pastor of St. Mauritius, in
Hamburg ? a name before which the faithful prostrated
themselves in profound humility, the fame of which was
spread abroad over land and sea, a name regarded by his
own congregation almost as the rock upon which the
church was built. Such a name as his was a name in-
deed!
Whenever Pastor Siegfried wished to speak in private
to Therese upon any confidential matter, he always re-
quested her to visit him at his own house, for at the
9*
102 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
Gravensunds' lie scrupulously avoided any appearance
of intimacy with her lest it should give rise to suspi-
cions that any other than purely spiritual relations could
exist between them.
This time he had requested Therese's presence in a
note, a note so carefully worded that it might safely
have been opened and read by any one; and yet, the oc-
casions were so rare upon which Therese received any
written communication from the Pastor, that as she
walked towards the parsonage of St. Mauritius, she
puzzled her brain in conjectures as to the matter upon
which Siegfried desired to consult or instruct her.
She found him pacing to and fro in his study, awaiting
her arrival with evident impatience. One glance from
her large gray eyes informed her that the Pastor was
endeavouring to control and conceal a certain degree
of agitation. He cut short the stereotyped phrases
due to courtesy, after she had seated herself, by the
inquiry,
" Do you remember our former interview in this room,
Fraulein Therese ?"
" We have had more than one interview here, Herr
Pastor," Therese replied, not without a shade of inso-
lence in her manner, regarding, meanwhile, the tip of her
elegant boot with great composure. " May I ask to which
you refer ?"
"To the last, of course, to the one in consequence of
which you accepted the asylum offered you in Graven-
sund's house."
" Asylum ?" Therese repeated disdainfully. " I think,
Herr Pastor, you scarcely designated as such the situa-
tion you were then so desirous that J should accept."
" That's of no consequence," said Siegfried impatiently;
" for pity's sake, let mere words alone ! I have other
THE CONSPIRACY. 103
matters in hand, and again ask you if you remember our
former interview ?"
" It is a long while since, nearly twelve years,"
Therese replied with a sigh, as she stole a glance at an
opposite mirror ; " but I pride myself upon an excellent
memory."
" Well, then, you remember that I requested you to
keep me apprised of everything that occurred in Herr
Gravensund's house ?"
Therese inclined her head, but said nothing.
" The fulfilment of which request," the Pastor con-
tinued, " was a matter of grave importance in my own
interests, and in those of the church."
" You did not then represent it as of such moment."
"It was not then of such consequence. But now
more of this by-and-by, however. You know my rule of
action, keep ward and watch wherever there is room
for the work of the Lord ; and this ward and watch you
undertook to keep in Herr Gravensund's house."
" I did," Therese replied coolly ; " and you certainly
can have no reason to find fault with me, for I verily
believe that there has hardly a mouse been caught that
you have not received full intelligence of its capture."
"And yet, I have never heard one word of the
young vagabond who is a daily guest in the rich man's
home."
Therese looked up in unfeigned surprise. "Why, he
only comes as far as the kitchen, for his dinner, I hardly
know his name."
"For his dinner?"
" Yes, several such people come every day, that is no
news to you, I have often told you of it."
" But Richard Kurteu plays with the children of the
house."
104 WHY DID HR NOT DIE?
" Oh, is it he of whom you are speaking ? It is a long
while since he first began to come so frequently, and he
is no vagabond."
"No matter for that. I ought to have known of it
long ago, before matters had gone so far," said Sieg-
fried, in so irritated a tone that Therese regarded him
with amazement.
" I do not understand you," she said, shrugging her
shoulders.
" It is not necessary that you should," the Pastor
replied angrily. " I wish you had fulfilled my request
more exactly."
" How was I to guess that you took such an interest
in that boy ?"
" Interest ? What interest have I in the child ? What
puts that into your head ?"
" Oh, I only thought so," Therese replied, casting
down her eyes, as she observed the unnecessary heat
with which he denied all interest in the boy. " But is it
possible that you have never either seen Richard or heard
him spoken of?"
" I never saw him there that I know of; I may,
perhaps, have heard Richard spoken of, but how was I
to know that his name was Kurten, or rather," he
added, correcting himself, "that his parents were such
low people ? Kurten is a coarse fellow, who never enters
a church never 1 His wife neglects all her duties as a
Christian in fact, I regret extremely that this Richard
has been allowed to obtain such a foothold in Graven-
sund's family."
" And so do I."
"Why, what objection can you have to it ?"
" I dislike the boy extremely. He is very insolent,
and has the worst influence upon Antoinette, who is pert
THE CONSPIRACY. 105
enough already. But why, Herr Pastor, should you
object to him ? He does Dot interfere with you."
" I am not sure of that. I might refuse to answer your
question, but for old acquaintance' sake." And the
Pastor grew extremely courteous, for he felt how-
necessary it was that he should retain Therese's good
will. " I will tell you that I am strongly opposed to the
introduction to the homes of the wealthy and aristocratic
of such parasitic hangers-on, they pave the way for the
wiles of the Evil One, in the shape of a most dangerous
democratic element. If such intruders are meek and
lowly in spirit, and easily led and ruled, they are less
objectionable, although they give rise to many new
opinions and modes of thought as to those distinctions
of rank and station which are among the wisest of the
arrangements of Providence."
Here the Pastor paused ; but as Therese did not see fit
to make any reply, he continued : " As for this Richard,
whom I have now seen, I believe you are perfectly right.
Did you not say he was insolent ?"
" I did. That is, he seems to have no conception of
the favour that is shown him in admitting one of his
class to such a household, and I have observed that in
playing with the children they always submit to his
dictation instead of his following their lead, as would be
becoming."
" Of course, of course I He is evidently one of the
most pernicious sort," cried the Pastor, rising hastily
from his chair. "And, oh, Therese, my dear, good The-
rese, you do not dream how dangerous that boy may
become to us, to you and to me : he must be got rid of."
" Dangerous to me?"
" Yes, yes, I know what I am saying. Oh, if you
would only forego all explanation and simply do what
106 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
1 ask you ! You may some day understand the wisdom
of my precautions. I think you have had some proofs
of my sagacity."
"And you," said Therese, with a slight inclination,
"of my pious docility."
" Your pious docility 1" cried the Pastor with a
strangely discordant laugh. " Not bad. Unfortunately
the proofs have slipped my memory."
" There is only one thing that excites my opposition,"
said Therese, calmly folding her hands in her lap. "I ob-
ject to be dead clay in the hands of the potter a mere
tool."
" I know, I know, you want to have a hand in the
game."
" Yes, I should like to understand the game, even if I
never take a trick."
" But I tell you there is nothing here to understand,"
replied Siegfried. " We must get rid of this boy, be-
cause he is so low-born. I will not have him upon inti-
mate terms in that household. I might speak to Ilerr
Gravensund myself, and let him know the true standing
of the boy's family, and that would easily put a stop to
the whole affair."
"Do so, then, Herr Pastor, it would greatly please
me."
Siegfried started, but instantly regained his compo-
sure. " You can do it much more easily and much more
effectually, Therese. No one would suppose that you
had any ends of your own to answer that is, I mean
why do you object ? I do not understand you."
"Because I do not understand you. I would have
prevented the boy from coming to the house long ago
if I could have done so. Now I do not see how it is to
be done, and I do not want to do it"
THE CONSPIRACY. 107
" You refuse, then ?"
" If you put it so yes."
"What! this to me, to me who have done so much for
you !" cried Siegfried, actually pale with rage.
Therese's large eyes grew almost black as they shot
a glance of supreme contempt at the Pastor.
"So much, oh, man of God!" And she laughed
loudly and bitterly. " You gave me a post as servant
in a rich man's house. And if you had installed me as
mistress in the most gorgeous household in the world,
your service would have weighed light in the balance
against the wrong you have done me. Why, if you
were to heap up all the treasures of the universe at my
feet, they could not square the account between us."
" Not so loud ! not so loud !" said the Pastor sooth-
ingly, " walls sometimes have ears. Dearest Therese,
that was all long ago, when I was lingering among the
tents of the Sodomites. And yet how beautiful you are
in your anger !" And he put out his hand to lay it upon
her arm.
But Therese was not so easily appeased. " Don't come
near me !" she cried, recoiling from his touch. " I may
go now, there is no more to say ?"
" Oh, no, dear friend, no, only wait a few minutes.
Let me silence the whispers of the old Adam within me.
Why were you made one of those rare women whom
age cannot wither ? I can refuse you nothing, you
shall learn my most secret thoughts."
He paced the room once or twice, considering how far
he might admit Therese into his confidence. The secret
of Richard's birth she must never learn, he knew her
revengeful, vindictive nature too well to put himself so
far in her power.
Meanwhile Therese grew more composed. The Pas-
108 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
tor's flattery was not entirely without effect, and although
she actually hated him, she knew that it would be ruin-
ous to make an open enemy of him, and that it was the
part of prudence to acquiesce in his plans and lend her-
self to their fulfilment.
After a few moments, Siegfried took his seat opposite
her again.
" What do you think of the state of Madame Graven-
sund's health ?" he asked, looking fixedly at his visitor.
" What do I think of it?" she repeated. "She is in
the last stages of consumption."
" Doubtless. How long do you think she will live?"
" I have asked the physicians, and they tell me she
cannot last through the spring."
" Very good, the family would then consist of three
persons."
"Of four."
" Of three. Netta does not belong there, you know."
Therese did not reply. She could not see to what all
this was to lead.
" Do you imagine that little Anna will ever live to
grow up ?" was Siegfried's next question as he passed
his hand across his smoothly-shaven chin.
" I think there is no chance of it, she inherits her
mother's constitution."
" But her mother is over thirty years old now."
" The child will not live to be ten."
" I fear not, especially as the mother in her overween-
ing fondness keeps her with her so perpetually. Such
invalids never reflect what mischief may be done by
gratifying their affection for their young children. It
would be sad indeed if maternal love should be the
means of shortening the daughter's life, but, the ways
of the Lord are not as our ways !"
THE CONSPIRACY. 109
As Therese's cold gaze rested calmly upon the speaker,
be never lifted his eyes, but seemed to read his words
from the floor at his feet. The housekeeper knew him
well, and listened eagerly for the important disclosure
that she felt sure he was about to make.
" And then the family would consist of but two people,"
the Pastor said slowly, after a pause, as he looked full at
Therese.
" Of two people," she repeated.
" Two people would divide the property."
"If Gravensund does not marry again."
"Bah!" said Siegfried, with a shrug, "I will take
care of that."
" You would oppose it?"
" Yes ; there must be," and the Pastor spoke in a low
tone and leaned towards Therese, " there must be as
few lives as possible between the Gravensund property
and the church."
" Hm ! I see; but one life is sufficient."
" Oh, my friend, what is a human life ? as chaff before
the wind in the eyes of the Lord."
" That may be, Herr Pastor, but Willy inherits his
father's constitution, and is strong and well."
" God forbid that he should die! We will speak of this
another time. You know now the lofty aim for which I
am striving in the interest of the Lord, and I promise
you that if I attain it by your aid and his assistance you
shall be well rewarded with the mammon of this world,
I will see to it that the remainder of your days is passed
in ease and abundance."
This promise did not seem to make much impression
upon Therese ; but there was something that gratified
the evil part of her nature in the Pastor's confidence,
10
110 WET DID HE NOT DIE?
and she determined to take the whole matter well into
consideration before she refused him her aid.
" But," she said, struck by a sudden thought, " what
has Richard Kurten to do with all this ?"
It was rather an awkward question for Siegfried. " Do
you not understand," he replied, " that we must keep clear
of all such disturbing elements?"
"Why so ? No, I do not understand at all."
" I must speak more clearly. Such children often gain
a firm foothold in a house, and it is impossible to dislodge
them. It would be, you grant, a sin and a shame if that
noble property were to devolve upon such a weak-minded
youth as Willy is likely to be, when it might be such a
means of grace in other hands ?"
" That is, in yours," Therese interrupted.
Siegfried gave no sign of hearing this remark, and
continued :
" Suppose, for example, that Willy should not grow
up, we must look such possibilities in the face, or that,
as is, alas ! only too likely, he should turn out a good-
for-nothing fellow, and should be disinherited or placed
under legal supervision or something of the kind. Sup-
posing such a case, I would destroy every possibility of
there being any other individual at hand upon whom
some particle of paternal tenderness might devolve,
and who might, perhaps, partake even in a small de-
gree of the rights of a son. Remember the case of
Senator Belling. How was it there ? Just as I say.
You may think all this caution and precaution unneces-
sary and ridiculous. No amount of prudence is unne-
cessary, and, besides, we can have no spies or listeners
in our path. Even servants are obnoxious in this
respect ; but they can be changed frequently, while
nothing is more in the way than a humble hanger-on
THE CONSPIRACY. Ill
who has grown up with the children of the household.
And this boy, with his big, dark eyes, is decidedly in my
way, he annoys me greatly, for he looks like one of
those children who think too much for their years."
" I would gladly show the boy the door," said Therese,
"if I could see how to do it. I would do it for my
own sake, because I dislike him extremely, although I
cannot very well understand how he can interfere with
your deep-laid plans."
" But he does, indeed he does ! Oh, my dear Therese,
do not be so difficult to convince. What shall I promise
you for your service ? I'll tell you. You know you
have often expressed the wish to visit the southern part
of Germany. Well, I will guarantee that you shall
spend next summer with the children in any part of
Germany that yon may select. I will take care that
Gravensund himself shall propose the plan to you, if
you will only get Richard Kurten out of that house."
" But, good heavens 1 how is it to be done ? Give me
some hint how to go to work."
" Can so clever a woman as you need any prompting?
Why, a word in Madame Gravensund's ear, a warning to
the father, and the boy will never be allowed to cross the
threshold again. The rest shall be my charge. But
make haste, I am growing nervous with years : if any-
thing annoys me, I cannot rest until it is removed from
my path."
Therese took her neat gray kid gloves from her pocket,
and began slowly to put them on, in token that the inter-
view was really at an end. And so it was. The Pastor
had attained his desire. Therese had determined to ac-
cede to his wishes.
In the first place, she had that dislike to Richard which
sly, cunning natures naturally cherish towards frank,
112 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
truthful characters; and then the idea of her summer
excursion had great weight with her, for she knew how
all-powerful Siegfried was with Herr Gravensund, and
that he could perform what he promised. And really
Therese's prospects for the future were most agreeable:
after Madame Gravensund's death, she would reign
supreme in the household ; for since the Pastor was op-
posed to a second marriage for Herr Gravensund, she
felt quite certain that it could never take place.
CHAPTER XL
THE PORTUGUESE COIN.
RICHARD could not but be grieved about this time that
he was so seldom invited to Herr Gravensund's, the
children would often play in the garden without calling,
as they had been used to do, " Come out, Richard."
Netta and Willy had been forbidden to invite Richard
to play*with them without special permission, and this
permission was never accorded them unless some older
person was present to oversee their play.
Fraulein Therese had upon several occasions hinted
her distrust of Richard, but had not succeeded in banish-
ing him from the house, although she had said enough
to arouse suspicion in the minds of Herr and Madame
Gravensund. "Dear Emma," Herr Graveusund said to
his wife, " observe the boy narrowly, if you can, and I
will, also, as far as I can. I have always liked him, he
seems so frank and honest, and there is a deal of native
grace in his independent bearing, I would not do him
THE PORTUGUESE COIN. H3
injustice for the world. But if he really is a deceitful,
coarse child, his hypocrisy makes it all the worse,
what will he be when he grows up ?"
Therese found to her infinite vexation that it needed
more than her spiteful hints to procure the boy's dis-
missal, and that she was suspected of being mistaken in
her estimate of him. In her pique she determined that
he should go at all costs, and she assured Siegfried that
it would not be long before she found an opportunity for
fulfilling his wishes to the uttermost.
The Gravensund mansion contained a multitude of
treasures of art, mostly collected by the mother of their
present possessor, which, in their accumulation, had been
one of the chief means of acquaintance with Pastor Sieg-
fried many years before. A common interest with regard
to religious affairs and objects of art had gradually in-
duced an intimacy which the reverend gentleman had
known how to employ to bis own advantage.
The son had inherited his mother's artistic tastes, but
in a less degree. With him it was more the inclination
of a wealthy man to surround himself with luxuries of all
kinds ; and if Siegfried, to whom it was a gratification to
see in Gravensund's house what he could not always
afford in his own, had not stimulated him to continue the
work of accumulation, begun by his mother, the taste
might have slumbered in a nature so indolent as Wilhelm
Gravensund's. As it was, however, not only was the
greatest care taken of these objects of art inherited by
him, but various additions were made to their number
from time to time ; and in the large picture-room, that old
Madame Gravensund used, with pardonable pride, to call
" my gallery," many a new and valuable picture had been
hung since her death.
10*
114 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
This room the gallery was usually closed, for it
contained, besides the pictures, a variety of costly trifles
and valuable curiosities that might easily be injured and
could be handled only with great care. The children
were seldom allowed to enter it, and Richard listened to
their accounts of the "gallery" as to the tales of some
enchanted apartment, that excited his imagination to the
utmost. The word gallery had a most imposing sound,
and he often entreated his mother to take him to some of
the public picture-galleries that he so longed to see ; but
Frau Kurten thought all painting mere daubing of canvas,
and never found time to gratify him. So, as children
were not admitted to such exhibitions alone, his desire
was still ungratified.
One day Netta and Willy begged that Richard might
be sent for, as it was growing altogether too cold to play
in the garden. The boy came into the house as usual
through the door leading into the garden, and entered
the hall without being observed by any one. The mys-
terious door into the gallery was just at the end of the
hall, but to-day this door was wide open, and the stair-
case and passages were flooded' with the light of the set-
ting sun that streamed through the tall window within
the wondrous room.
Richard stood still in delighted surprise, dazzled at
first by the light, that lent a fantastic glow to every ob-
ject upon which his eyes rested. Involuntarily he ap-
proached the open door, then stopped, and listened, the
house was silent as a tomb. " Only one look," he thought,
" there can be no harm in it." And lured on by an irre-
sistible attraction he softly crossed the threshold.
A prolonged sigh of intense admiration escaped his lips
as his eyes wandered from one to another of the magnifi-
cent pictures. His excitement was intense, he could not
THE PORTUGUESE COIN. 115
have torn himself away, for he was partaking for the first
time of an enjoyment that had hitherto been impossible
for him in his sphere of life.
He never heard that noiseless, catlike tread upon the
hall carpet, nor saw the evil gray eyes looking in upon him
from the doorway. It was Therese, whose special charge
it was to dust this room and keep it in order, and who now
returned, after having been called away for a few moments.
She could hardly believe her eyes when she saw the " im-
pudent fellow" standing, lost in contemplation, before one
of the pictures, and was just on the point of ordering him
from the spot when an evil suggestion entered her mind ;
she hastily withdrew from the doorway, and, with a mali-
cious smile, retreated even more noiselessly than she had
approached. At the foot of the staircase she inten-
tionally made more noise, and finally called loudly to
one of the maids, that she might make sure that Richard
would leave the gallery, startled by her voice, before she
returned thither.
The boy stood intoxicated with delight before a lovely
Madonna and child. "What a beautiful mother I" he
thought, for to him a mother was the ideal of woman-
hood. " And those angels I" Ah, why could they not pro-
tect him from the poisonous glance of those gray eyes !
Suddenly sounds of earth shocked the boy's enraptured
sense with harsh dissonance. He started, looked about
him in terror, and, recalled to reality, slipped out of the
room and ran up-stairs to the nursery.
Just at the nursery door he paused, entirely uncon-
scious that his face showed traces of his recent emotion.
He only considered for a moment whether he should tell
what he had seen, and decided :
" Yes, yes, I'll tell Netta all about it. Why shouldn't
I ? Where's the harm ?
116 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
But when he opened the door he found Herr Graven-
sund there, a most unusual occurrence, and Richard fan-
cied that he looked at him with a peculiar, searching ex-
pression. His presence deprived the boy of the courage
to tell of his adventure, but he would do it by-and-by.
A quarter of an hour passed, and Herr Gravensund
was just about to leave the room when Therese entered,
looking very anxious and greatly annoyed.
" I cannot find one of those large Portuguese coins,"
she said, with her hand still upon the handle of the door.
" Have you been into the gallery, Herr Gravensund ?"
"I? No."
" What can have become of it, then ? Half an hour
ago the coins were all there. I rubbed them bright and
left the case open, when I was called away for a few
moments."
" Oh, there is some mistake," Herr Gravensund replied ;
" no one has been in the room."
" There must have been some one there. Perhaps
Madame "
"My wife is asleep, pray look again. If you had
the coin in your hand, you may have mislaid it."
" No, no, I remember exactly how I replaced it and
left the cover of the case open. When I returned, the
case was shut and the coin gone."
" Strange ! I will go down and look for it myself,"
said Herr Gravensund, going towards the door.
" I should be very glad if you would," said Therese.
" No one else has been in the house ; or perhaps "
And, as if looking around involuntarily, her glance fell
upon Richard. Herr Gravensund's eyes followed hers
and encountered the boy's pale, distressed face lifted
towards his own.
As soon as Therese mentioned the missing coin, Rich-
THE PORTUGUESE COIN. 117
ard saw into what embarrassment his foolish curiosity
had led him. Greatly troubled, he asked himself, " Shall
I tell or not ?" He could not decide on the instant
what to 'do. Then he saw Therese look at him with
eyes of dark suspicion, and Herr Gravensund's glance
of grave surprise, and without uttering a word he burst
into tears.
" Let us spare the boy, "said Herr Gravensund, touched
by the outbreak of boyish grief, in a low voice to The-
rese, and then he added aloud, " Pray take the children
down-stairs into the gallery, and keep them there until I
call them. I want to speak to Richard."
The children, silent and troubled, left the room, they
knew something was wrong.
Father and son were left alone together.
" I went into the gallery, I went into the gallery !"
cried Richard, hardly waiting until the nursery-door was
closed. " But, Herr Gravensund, you do not believe,
you cannot believe, that I am a thief?"
" Richard," said Herr Gravensund, in a tone more of
kindness than severity, " I promise you that no one shall
ever know of what now passes between us, but do not
deceive me. Appearances are very much against you."
" Yes, yes, I know it, but I have taken nothing. I did
not even see the case of coins. I only saw the pictures.
I stood looking at that picture and wondering whether
my mother were so beautiful. Could I have done any-
thing so wicked, then ?"
Strange, childish logic ! and yet in its very naivete"
convincing, testifying to such an honest, unperverted
nature.
" But why did you not say that you had been in the
gallery ?" Herr Gravensund asked further.
" I was going to tell Netta and Willy, indeed I was,
118 WHY DID IIE NOT DIE?
I was so delighted ! But, then you were here, and I
was not sure that I ought to have gone into the gallery."
Herr Gravensund was morally convinced of the boy's
innocence, but he was in some measure aware of his
own yielding nature, and, besides, saw the importance of
some actual proof that the accused was not guilty of the
theft of the coin.
" I hope and pray that you are speaking the truth,
Richard," he said, after a moment's reflection, during
which the boy never ceased to look up at him with the
intensest anxiety in his countenance. Those large dark
eyes completely captivated Herr Gravensund, and some
forgotten memory stirred for an instant in his mind. He
could not define it to himself, and murmured, " If we
could only produce some proof !"
" A proof that I did not take it ? Oh, how can that
be ? Yes ! yes !" and the boy's face glowed with exulta-
tion. " If I took it, I must have it now 1"
He hastily turned his pockets inside out, of course
the coin was not in them.
Convinced that there was an end of the matter,
Richard laughed through his tears. Herr Gravensund
gave him his hand, and laid the other kindly upon his
shoulder. " I believe you are a good boy, Richard," he
said ; " now we will go down and look for the coin, and
you shall see all the pictures."
If anything could have increased Richard's delight, it
was this proposal; and when Herr Gravensund, who
rarely took any notice of him, took his hand to lead him
down to the gallery himself, the child walked out of the
room as proud as a prince.
His cap was hanging in the passage. He took it down
mechanically as he passed along. Something glittering
rolled out of it. The Portuguese coin had fallen upon
THE PORTUGUESE COIN. H9
the floor. Richard ran himself and picked ft up. Hold-
ing it out to Herr Gravensund, he looked in perfect
bewilderment, first into his face and then at the piece of
silver.
But Herr Gravensund was very angry, all the more so,
as he reflected upon his previous credulity.
" You young scoundrel !" he exclaimed, taking the coin
from the boy's hand. " You thief! I've got you now!
Here is proof sufficient. Silence ! not a word ! Be
thankful that I do not hand you over to the police. Out
of my house ! and never dare to set foot inside it again,
or to speak one word to my children !"
Richard was annihilated. He cast one more imploring
glance at Herr Gravensund, and, his face crimson with
shame, his head sunk on his breast, left the house, while
Gravensund stood looking after him, the coin still in his
hand.
" Young wretch !" he thought, quite agitated by what
had occurred. "In what a slough of hypocrisy and deceit
that youthful soul is plunged. And an exterior so frank,
so attractive, that it is no wonder I was carried away by
it. So much the worse. A whited sepulchre, full of all
uncleanness.
" And Therese was right, after all. She is wonderfully
clear-sighted. I must not let the children know anything
about it. For the boy's sake, I will not mention it. He
is young and may reform. He does not deserve to be
treated with such consideration, but I cannot tell why it
is, I am sorry for the child, very sorry. In spite of his
parents' respectability, he must have had a wretched
education. I must speak with them. Yes, yes, it is my
duty. I will send for Kurten, and tell him about it as
kindly as I can. Hm, a great sorrow for the parents, a
very great sorrow !"
120 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
Soliloquizing thus, Herr Gravensund went into the
gallery.
" The coin has been found, it was lying upon the
floor in the passage," he said, quietly ; indicating by a
sign to Therese that the children were not to be further
enlightened in the matter.
" There, you see now that Richard never touches any-
thing," Netta said rather pertly, turning to Therese. "I
suppose you took the Portuguese coin out into the entry,
and dropped it by mistake yourself."
Therese was boiling with rage; but to conceal her
dismay at the child's words, she stooped and kissed her
with a smile, saying, " That must have been the way,
you guileless little darling."
" Yes, that must have been the way," Herr Graven-
sund repeated ; little dreaming how near the truth Netta's
pert remark had struck.
The vile trick had been successful, and Pastor Siegfried
was instantly notified that something had occurred of
which it was necessary he should be informed.
Herr Gravensund was very glad that the Herr Pastor
happened to drop in that evening to tea, for the event of
the day lay heavy on his mind. He had talked it over
with his invalid wife, whose side he rarely left now ; and
Emma, usually so gentle and quiet, had proved a stern
judge in the matter. Her maternal anxiety for her chil-
dren's welfare was aroused by the thought that they
might have been contaminated by intercourse with such
a deceitful, hypocritical boy.
Pastor Siegfried inquired into the case, in its minutest
details, dwelling particularly upon all that was most to
Richard's prejudice. His soul was bowed with grief, he
said, at the thought of the youthful sinner; but in the
same breath he denounced him unsparingly : " For," he
THE PORTUGUESE COIN. 121
continued, " although we are permitted to hope that the
wretched child may one day be rescued from his iniquities,
at present he is plunged deep in the slough of wickedness,
and is a stumbling-block in the path of the righteous. He
cannot be tolerated in the children's vicinity."
All were agreed so far ; but when Gravensund declared
that he thought it his duty to speak with Richard's
father, Siegfried offered his services in the matter.
" I know these people," said he ; " my pastoral duty
makes me familiar with all walks of life, and I visited the
letter-carrier's house only a short time ago. I learned
there for the first time that his son was the Richard of
whom I had sometimes heard you speak. I inquired
concerning the boy's conduct then with especial interest,
and I am sorry to say his mother had much to complain
of. She informed me that he had stayed from home
for several days, lately."
"Stayed from home? for several days?" cried both
his hearers, greatly shocked.
''Yes, he made a cruise in a Blankeuese fishing-boat."
And Siegfried related what Frau Kurten had told him,
but in a manner that threw a dark shadow over the
adventure that seemed so harmless when Netta art-
lessly related it at the dinner-table. And the Pastoc,.
declared emphatically, as if it set the crown upon poor
Richard's depravity, that the boy had " no feeling for his
parents."
Herr Gravensund then told of what the boy had said
of his thoughts as he looked at the Madonna by Murillo,
which must have been the picture to which he alluded,
and this was pronounced a piece of the most refined
hypocrisy. The Pastor improved the occasion by a short
but edifying discourse upon the depravity of our nature,
11
122 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
the power of Satan, the father of lies, and the grace of
the Lord Jesus Christ, which he prayed might be re-
vealed to the youthful reprobate under discussion.
And Richard, poor, ill-treated Richard, what became
of him when he was thrust forth from the house that in
liis meagre existence had seemed a Paradise to him ?
At first he sat down on the garden steps and cried,
cried like a little child. He knew not what to do or
whither to turn ; there was no one to help him in his
time of need, in whom he would confide, and who would
believe him, for his parents oh, would his parents
believe him? it was more than doubtful. He had been
so overpowered, so annihilated, when he saw the shining
coin drop out of his cap, that he had never thought of
defending himself, but had asked himself in his be-
wilderment, " Did I take it, then ? Yes, I must have
taken it ; but I know nothing nothing about it, at
all !
There he sat on the cold stone step, his youthful soul
burdened with an act of mean deceit, and longed to die,
yes, the boy of thirteen felt weary of his life !
But such a mood was entirely at variance with his
healthy nature, his energetic temperament. His tears
ceased. He sat lost in thought, going over in his mind
every moment, from the time when the delicious light
had first streamed through the open gallery door, until he
had been thrust forth, branded as a thief by the man who
had just spoken so kindly to him, that even now he could
not think of him with resentment. He recalled every
instant, every fleeting sensation, and sprang up, stretching
out his hands to the darkening heavens, saying aloud,
" It is not true ! it is not true ! I did not even see the
thing, I cannot have touched it. How it came in my
THE PORTUGUESE COIN. 123
cap I do not know; but I could swear I never put it
there. I did not have my cap when I went into the
gallery, and my mind was full of other things when I
stood at the nursery door. I must go to Herr Graven-
sund again, he must believe me, he shall not think me
so wicked!"
And he took hold of the handle of the door.
" But what shall I say to him ? Only that I never took
the coin ? I told him that before, and he believed me.
But now now he will tell me to prove it, and I can
prove nothing. The proof is all against me. Oh, it is
horrible !" He pressed his hands upon his eyes and the
tears almost burst forth afresh. But he composed him-
self, and only sighed heavily from the very depths of his
soul.
And where should he go with his grief? There was
his home ; he had only to slip through that window to
be in a quiet, comfortable room, where at least no one
thought him a thief. For it did not occur to him that
Herr Gravensund, who had never exchanged a word with
hi.s father, would feel it his duty to come and tell him of
what had happened.
Yes, it was comfortable in the little room, whence the
light of the lamp streamed through the window ; but no
irresistible power attracted the boy thither to fall upon
his mother's neck crying, "Mother, mother, they have
insulted and abused me I" Children act from impulse,
every one does in moments of great excitement; and
Richard did not go to his mother for comfort, simply
because he was not sure of finding it there.
Perhaps he did Frau Kurten injustice, perhaps in this
case, where disgrace threatened her own honour, she
would have taken the boy's part energetically, and
defended him bravely from his accusers $ but Richard
124 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
could not be sure of this. So he was silent when he
climbed through the window, for the last time. The
children had put a little bench beneath it to help him in
getting out, Richard took it and hurled it far away, it
could never serve him again.
Frau Kurten thought she observed an unusual depres-
sion and tenderness in her adopted child's behaviour on
this particular evening. It was the craving that he could
not quite repress for sympathy and consolation. She
looked at him with surprise and said to herself, " What
can be the matter with him that he seems so spiritless?"
But, fortunately for the poor boy, she made no remark
upon the subject.
CHAPTER XII.
INTRIGUE.
VERT well satisfied with the aspect of affairs, Pastor
Siegfried took his way towards the Kurtens' habitation.
He was much pleased with Therese ; as was her wont
when in earnest to attain any end, she had not been
content with half-measures, but had done her work
thoroughly, and his desire was gratified, Richard
Kurten could never again cross Herr Gravensund's
threshold.
That could not do the boy any barm. The Pastor
could not possibly know that the moments spent in that
house had been the sweetest of Richard's existence, he,
as a prudent and intelligent man, reasoned with himself
that it was very unfortunate for those born to limited
INTRIGUE. 125
circumstances to have the vain pomp and show of earthly
vanities constantly before their eyes. Even although
Richard were innocent in this particular instance, it was
better to remove him from all the temptation to which he
was unavoidably exposed in contemplating the treasures
of the wealthy, or if he did not break the eighth com-
mandment, " Thou shalt not steal," he would inevitably
transgress the tenth, " Thou shalt not covet thy neigh-
bour's house, nor anything that is thy neighbour's." Provi-
dence dealt kindly by the boy in depriving his covetous
sense of what would in all probability always be denied
him, and confining him to those associations in the midst
of which he had been born.
Perhaps the communication which Pastor Siegfried
was about to make to Frau Kurten would have burdened
his soul more heavily if the worthy man, whose judgment
was remarkably clear where his own interests were not
concerned, had not remembered that with her tempera-
ment it was impossible that she could have any genuine
maternal feeling, and, besides, what need to trouble
himself about what was inevitable ?
Richard was at school, and the Pastor, as be hoped and
expected, found Frau Kurten alone. She welcomed him
most cordially, feeling herself greatly honoured by his
visit, which was, of course, the most distinguished that
she ever received. She did not, at first, perceive the
intentionally grave, indeed troubled expression of the
Pastor's face, and she was quite terrified when he began
in a tone of extraordinary solemnity :
" It is no pleasant duty that brings me hither to-day,
my dear Madame Kurten." And he proceeded to lead
her through all the stages of anxious expectation, until
she cried out in an imploring voice,
11*
126 WIIF DID HE NOT DIE?
"Good heavens! Herr Pastor, what can be the matter?
I am upon tenter-hooks !"
" The matter concerns your foster-son, your poor,
unhappy child," was the mournful reply.
" For God's sake, what has happened to him ? Is he
dead ? Has there been an accident?"
" Dead ! Ah, it were well for him if he had fallen asleep
in the Lord ! But if you really know nothing yet "
"I know nothing! absolutely nothing!"
" Then listen," and Siegfried related slowly, but with
great dramatic effect, what had taken place at Herr Gra-
vensund's the day before, while Frau Kurten listened
with eager attention. When he described Richard's
turning his pockets inside out, she gave a long sigh of
relief, ejaculating,
"Thank God ! That would have been too terrible !"
"Wait, wait, too credulous mother!" said the man of
God, laying his hand lightly upon her arm as he told the
melancholy conclusion of his story.
" Oh, merciful Heaven ! has it come to this with
the boy?" cried Frau Kurten, falling back in her chair
when Siegfried had finished. " No, no, Herr Pastor, I've
done with him. After all the care and anxiety that I
have gone through for his sake ! I'll have no more to do
with him. But what could I expect of a child born in
sin and shame, as he was ? What will my husband say ?
The boy cannot be called Kurteu any longer, and I cannot
bear to have him take the name of Gunther. My father,
Herr Pastor, and Marie's father, too, were such good,
honest people, the disgraceful story of his birth must
not come to light."
Siegfried trembled at such a possibility. What mis-
chief might it not bring about !
" Who could be so cruel," said he, " as to think of such
INTRIGUE. 12t
a thing ? God forbid, my dear Madame Kurten. Who
will know anything about it if we do not speak of it ?
Let us consider quietly what is best to be done."
" But, Herr Pastor, did Richard really do it ? He
has al \vays told the truth, I must admit that; and now
a thief! Oh, it is impossible !"
" It is true, my dear friend, that our better nature re-
volts from the belief in such depravity. I could hardly
credit it myself, and Herr Gravensund also was loth to
believe it, but the proof is of so convincing a character
that it leaves no room for doubt."
" That's a fact. But I must ask him about it ; and I
tell you, Herr Pastor," she continued, with an angry
gesture, " that he shall be severely punished if it is true."
" This is the point, my dear Madame Kurteu," said
the Pastor, laying his white finger upon her broad, brown
hand, "that I wish to discuss with you. But first let
me ask, does it not strike you as strange that the boy
said nothing to you last night of what had happened ?
Does not such concealment betray a guilty conscience ?"
Frau Kurten nodded assentingly.
"Had he been innocent," Siegfried continued, "what
would have been more natural than that he should fly
to you for comfort ? A frank child would certainly have
done so."
" Yes, that is true."
" Did you notice nothing unusual in his behaviour?"
" No, oh, yes, he was so attentive, so quiet, that I
wondered what was the matter with him."
"Aha!" ejaculated the Pastor, shaking his head, "it
was his way of bribing your affection. We are evil from
our cradles, and who among us that is wise as the ser-
pent fulfils the rest of the sacred injunction and is as
harmless as the dove ?"
128 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
" What, oh, what will my husband say ? He will
turn the boy out of the house."
" God forbid, my good friend, that would be thrust-
ing him still further into the mire of iniquity, instead of
lending a helping hand to extricate him from the slough
in which he now is."
"Then we must take him from school and bind him
apprentice to a strict master, that he may soon be able
to provide for himself."
" He must first pass his confirmation, we must not
neglect that sacred duty, and he has not yet been
entered for it."
" Oh, this terrible responsibility !" exclaimed Frau
Kurten, in reply. ""Who can blame me for wanting to
be rid of it ? And I cannot bear the sight of the boy.
How can I trust a word that he says if he has always
deceived me and told me such falsehoods ? And Kur-
ten, as you know, Herr Pastor, Kurten never helps me
at all, he only says ' Do as you please.' He does not
understand me."
Siegfried could hardly suppress a smile as he observed
how the seeds of his former visit had taken root. He
said gravely but gently, " May I not advise you, my
good, friend ?" And as he spoke, he pressed her hand
cordially.
The repetition of this word " friend" had its effect, it
soothed Frau Kurten's pride, and she recurred to it with
satisfaction whenever she felt herself especially misun-
derstood by a husband incapable of appreciating her.
" Oh, Herr Pastor," she cried, with beaming looks,
"how truly kind and good you are! People are right
when they say there is no one like you. I am a poor,
ignorant woman, and if you will advise me, all will be
well."
INTRIGUE. 129
"Perhaps, perhaps we can devise some plan. I am
admonished of the Lord to use my poor endeavours to
lead this lost soul to Him once more. Alas, such cases
are not rare, and good and pious people have provided
places of retreat where poor, benighted souls may be
won from their evil ways and made partakers of a state
of grace."
" What ? I do not understand, Herr Pastor," said
Frau Kurten, somewhat disappointed.
" You know we have the poor-house, the alms-
house "
"Oh, Herr Pastor, that would be such a disgrace."
" You must consider what has occurred."
" But a poor-house, a poor-house !"
" Our aim must be the boy's improvement. But I
only mentioned that, I am not in favour of it myself,
for then the matter could not be kept private between
you and me."
" If everything could only be kept secret!"
" The place that seems to me the best, the most fitting,
indeed, the only one that answers every requirement
in this case, my good Frau Kurten, is the House of
Correction at Horn."
" The House of Correction !" Frau Kurten repeated
slowly, feeling all the distaste and dislike for this insti-
tution that every citizen of Hamburg feels at the mere
mention of it.
"Yes, the House of Correction, my dear Madame
Kurten. We should uncover our heads whenever it is
spoken of, for it is truly a house of the Lord. He reveals
himself to us there in truth, our undertaking is richly
l)lessod by Him, we taste and feel how good He is."
"But the boy would be brought in contact with so
many low, depraved associates."
130 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
" I would not willingly wound your feelings, my good
Frau Kurten, but such institutions are not for good aud
pious children, and Richard, most unfortunately, needs
the discipline of such an institution."
" Yes, I see that," replied Frau Kurten, although she
had never before dreamed of sending Richard to such a
place ; " but I would rather not have it the House of
Correction."
Siegfried suppressed his impatience, aud said, " It is
hard to make a choice in such distressing circumstances,
and inasmuch as the House of Correction is a house of
correction, I understand your objections to it, but so in-
telligent and well-informed a person as yourself must be
aware of how strenuously the enemies of the gospel are
endeavouring to destroy our good work in the House of
Correction by spreading calumnious reports in all direc-
tions concerning it. In Hamburg these evil slanderers
have unfortunately found credence, but in distant lands
our reputation is so wide-spread that we have over a
hundred pupils from distinguished families of other coun-
tries whom we receive for a considerable pecuniary com-
pensation."
"Indeed?" asked Frau Kurteu, surprised and pleased.
" Yes, indeed ! We have French, Russian, English,
and American children, you should see how happy
they are with us."
"And would Richard be among these?"
"Of course there are various divisions and classes in
the institution. There is no knowing where he may be
placed if he conducts himself well," replied the Pastor
evasively. " The large garden is common to all. We
divide our children into so many families. I will have
an eye to Richard myself, and he shall be well placed."
Frau Kurten reflected in silence. The idea of sending
INTRIGUE. 131
thither a child that she had once regarded as her own
was repugnant to her. Siegfried had foreseen this, but
he had something more to lay in the balance.
" An<f th6n, dear friend," he began again, "remember
what a burden it takes from you, you are relieved of
nil expense." A
" All expense ?" This evidently produced an impres-
sion upon Frau Kurten.
"All expense," the Pastor repeated with emphasis.
" We feed, clothe, and teach our children, dismissing them
when they are grown up as useful, honest members of
society, over whose welfare we watch with eyes of affec-
tion. Whatever you are able thus to save you can lay
by for* the boy's use in promoting his advancement when
he begins the world for himself, and he will thank you
far more then than if you were, from false ideas of ma-
ternal tenderness, to keep him with you now to be led
into fresh temptation. Believe me, that course would
lead to his ruin, and the Lord would one day demand
from you an account of your stewardship."
" Yes, yes, I have no doubt the Herr Pastor is right."
"Blessings on you for that admission. Consent in
the name of the Lord to my proposal, and you will not
repent it."
Frau Kurten still hesitated. " Can he come to see us,
and can we visit him ?" she asked, " for he has been like
our own child to us."
" Of course he can come to see you. We do not wish
to isolate our pupils from their families. He can visit
you every Sunday, and you can observe his progress in
the ways of virtue and honesty."
" Well, then, Herr PastoV," said Frau Kurten, after
another pause, "I will consent in the name of the
Lord."
132 WET DID HE NOT DIE?
"Praise Him for having guided you aright!" said
Siegfried, clasping his hands.
"But I must make one condition, Herr Pastor."
"And that is?"
" I must consult my husband and gain his consent."
" Of course, of course."
" For although he always says ' Do as you please,' and
I generally have my own way, yet I think it respectful
to him to, you understand me, Herr Pastor," she
added, in quite a confidential tone.
" Certainly, certainly," he said, patting her gently on
the shoulder, " you are not only a good and pious woman,
but a prudent wife. How rejoiced I am that we have
thus taken counsel together ! And let me further advise
you, when you have gained your husband's consent, to
enter into no long explanations with the boy, they
could lead to nothing. One more request': pray do not
chastise the young evil-doer this time, you could not
make the punishment atone for the offence, and such
chastisements are apt to harden a youthful offender."
Frau Kurten promised to do as he asked, and lauded
the tender kindness of the reverend gentleman, who, as
he walked home, said to himself, with a self-satisfied
smile, " The boy ought to be thankful to me for saving
him a flogging."
THE HOUSE OF CORRECTION. 133
CHAPTER XIII.
THE HOUSE OP CORRECTION.
IT is early in the morning of a day in December, and
it seems as if the dawn could hardly be persuaded to
yield to daylight, for the heavens are veiled by leaden
gray clouds and cold drops of rain are falling fast. A
bell is heard, not ringing in clear, harmonious tones, but
dully, in accordance with the gloomy, depressing atmos-
phere, like a harsh word of rebuke, for the wind cuts
short the sound and carries the echo far off to the east.
In the buildings that form the colony, as it were, of the
House of Correction, its warning note is instantly obeyed.
The lights that had been twinkling behind the closed
window-sashes are immediately extinguished, and from
the various doors issues a crowd of children in charge
of several grown persons.
The children walk singly, their heads bowed, whether
in repentance, or with the bent back of the hypocrite who
can tell ? Some, however, look around boldly and care-
lessly, evidently with the intention of showing how in-
effably wearisome to them are the long morning prayers
to which they have just been summoned.
The children take their places upon narrow benches
in the centre of the hall, boys and girls apart, of course ;
and on chairs against the wall, on either side, are seated
the assistants and overseers of the institution. Two
candles are burning upon the altar on either side of a
crucifix, and eleven more are lighted in a kind of candela-
12
134 WHY DID HE NOT DIEt
brum, for it is the second week of Advent, and one more
candle will be lighted daily until its close.
The service begins with a long prayer, which is fol-
lowed by a short sermon from the superintendent.
Among those who sit with heads bowed as though
weary and lost in reverie, is a pale, handsome boy, who
has contrived to get upon the very end of a bench, that
he may be free at least on one side from contact with a
coarse, rude comrade. He sits forward on the extreme
edge of the bench, thus isolating himself as far as he caii
from every one.
He folds his hands mechanically during the prayer, but
he pays no attention to it, for it is the third time to-day
that this act of worship has been repeated, once upon
rising in the morning, then at seven o'clock, after the
lesson in the catechism that preceded the breakfast of
porridge, and now at half after eight, when the whole
number of pupils is assembled together, for the first
time in the day, in the chapel. Neither does he hear a
word of the superintendent's discourse, and when they
all rise to sing a hymn, he forgets to open his book. One
of the clerical assistants leans towards him, and lays a
warning hand upon his arm, pointing to the book at the
same time. Richard for the pale, handsome boy is
Richard Kurten starts, looks around him with a gloomy,
sullen frown, and then obeys the hint that has been
given him ; that is, he opens his book, but not at the
right place, for he has not heard the number of the hymn
to be sung! It is all the same, though, for how can he
sing, sing here ? Why, if he should attempt it, the re-
sult could only be a discordant cry of anguish. He never
thought of attempting it, but stood still, buried in thought
again, his lips tightly closed.
The assistant looked at one of his clerical brethren
THE HOUSE OF CORRECTION. 135
and shook his head, with a pious glance towards the
ceiling. What could soften this boy's stubborn nature ?
He was hardened in sin, and could not be won to any
confidence towards one of those who were busy from
morning until evening in endeavours to promote his soul's
welfare.
" Richard, why did you not sing ?" the assistant asked.
He was at present upon probation for admission into holy
orders, and was called, as is usual in Germany, the Can-
didate.
" Sing ?" Richard answered. " I cannot sing."
" Did you never sing at home ?"
" Oh, yes," said Richard with hesitation, remember-
ing how he had once been punished for singing at home.
But that was a song about the flea ; and now they wanted
him to sing a hymn about flowing blood and gaping
wounds.
" I thought so," said the Candidate. " I am sure you
can sing, and the Lord rejoices in songs of praise from
the young. You must sing to-morrow or be punished.
Now, take our Bibles and put them away, and then come
to the waiting-room."
Richard silently put away the twelve Bibles belonging
to the class or " family," as it was called, of which he
made one, and which was in the charge of three or four
assistants and overseers. Then he betook himself to the
place of assemblage, where the boys were set their ap-
pointed work for the day.
A number of them had already been told off to attend
to the washing of the dishes and the arrangement of the
dormitories. There was a call now made for "Shoe-
makers ! tailors ! and carpenters 1" At the last summons
Richard came forward, with various others from different
"families," and was sent under charge to the carpenter-
136 WBY DID HE NOT DIE*
shop. He had made choice of this trade, not because he
particularly liked it, but because there was a relief in the
purely mechanical labour that it required, during which
he could sometimes forget the horrors of his situation.
Unfortunately, he had only to raise his eyes to see directly
.before him one of the lowest and most villainous of those
physiognomies by which nature would seem to predestine
some human beings to misery and crime, a face that
had never known one redeeming influence to soften or
exalt its low, bestial type, but which all the circumstances
of birth and vagabond existence had combined to class
with the very offscouring of humanity.
It is inevitable that in such institutions, as elsewhere,
each coterie or group of individuals should be character-
ized by some prevailing tendency, either by a reawakening
sense of penitence and love, which it is the aim of such
institutions to arouse, or by that hypocrisy and time-
serving spirit which it is the vice of such systems to
foster, or by the insolent, defiant persistence in wrong
that scorns any attempt to reform.
It was Richard's misfortune to belong to a "family"
ruled by this latter spirit. He had been placed there
either because its number was deficient at the time of his
admission to the House, or in accordance with the insinu-
ations of the man who had been the means of sending
him hither, and who had designated him as a tainted
sheep to be kept afar from the healthier of the flock.
In the carpenter's shop, it is true, he was not brought
into direct contact with the worst and most depraved,
but he regarded every one of his fellow-pupils with the
same utter disgust and loathing which those of the group
to which he belonged had inspired. For the boys of the
institution had instantly discovered that the newcomer
was not of their kind. They jeered at what they called
THE HOUSE OF CORRECTION. 13f
his "high and mighty airs," and boasted to each other in
his presence of most vicious and degrading crimes. He
turned away in abhorrence from the abyss of vice and
depravity which they revealed to him, and shut himself
up in that " stubborn stiff-neckedness" that caused such
holy horror to his teachers, who were always telling him
of the " slough in which he was wallowing, and the utter
depravity of-human nature." They were right when they
called him impenitent and obstinate, for, in spite of all
their efforts, Richard remained perfectly uninfluenced by
their labour for what they called "the welfare of his
soul."
He had always been a good, devout child, as children
naturally are who are not surfeited with mere religious
phrases and dogmas ; but this Candidate, whose special
business it seemed to be to save his erring soul, this man
with a drawling, nasal whine, long, straight hair, and a
cast in his eye, was utterly distasteful to Richard, he
actually hated him, and all the set phrases that were so
ready upon his lips. And the perpetual prayers and
hymns, the constant instruction in the dead letter of the
Bible, the style of speech so ill adapted to everyday life,
why, any chance that there might have been of winning
one of his loving, docile nature to* the narrow, belittling
views that usurped the place of religion in the House
of Correction, was utterly lost, and he 'hated the whole
system, of which his tormentor formed a part.
His nature revolted at the pride aping humility that
he saw around him, and when he found how much hy-
pocrisy and deceit could lurk beneath religious forms and
phrases, he distrusted such whenever he met with them,
regarding them as a cloak for sin : Christian love became
only a name to him. Yet these observances, this dead
letter of Christianity, was all of nourishment that was
12*
138 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
afforded to the spiritual nature in the House of Correction,
and the soul in Richard, unconsciously to himself, burning
with aspirations that could be satisfied only in striving
after the true and the beautiful, would have perished in
this desolate waste if he had remained long in the insti-
tution.
But he never intended to remain, not for an instant.
The fact that he had been sent hither in -spite of his
prayers and entreaties, had so exasperated him that,
even while he submitted, his whole thoughts were of
flight. He was busy with this one idea, as he stood at his
carpenter's bench. It was not easy to form a feasible
plan of escape, for, although the gates of the house were
seldom locked, any unexplained absence upon the part of
one of its inmates was immediately discovered, and mes-
sengers were sent in all directions to arouse the police
force, whose strict search the fugitive seldom eluded.
Richard considered whether it would not perhaps be
better to wait until spring, for although the long even-
ings and nights favoured his undertaking, it was, on the
other hand, no small matter to wander about homeless and
houseless in December or January. He never dreamed
of returning to his parents ; that would of course have
done no good. Still, it was impossible to remain until
the spring in such a frightful prison.
It is twelve o'clock, the bell in the tower rings for
dinner, and ten minutes afterwards every " family" is
seated at table, with the exception of those children who
wear a placard with " Idle" printed upon it, and they are
allowed nothing to eat. Richard is never idle, nature
nsserts her right; he eats with a relish all there is upon
his pewter plate, and the prayer before and after the
meal is not very long. Unfortunately, he is to-day one
of the number whose duty it is to clear away the dinner-
THE HOUSE OF CORRECTION. 139
tables, and this occupies him during the short time spent
by the rest in recreation.
At one, the bell rings the pupils to their work again,
and they do not leave it until vespers, after which they
either work again, from five until seven, or each " family"
sits with its special teacher, at a separate table, an open
Bible in the hands of each child, and they are examined
upon different portions of the Sacred History which have
been reviewed during the devotions of the previous week.
Richard is sure, in this exercise, to be inattentive and
absent-minded. After an hour spent thus, there is some
instruction in reading or arithmetic, or there are packages
of seeds to be sorted, until eight o'clock, when all are
assembled in the room that serves for a chapel, and an
evening service and prayers are gone through with, then
a hymn is sung, and another day is ended, and it is time
to sleep to sleep to dream to forget.
But the dormitory is odious to Richard, although there
is nothing to object to in it as the sleeping-room of a
house of correction. He thinks of his little room at
home, dark and small, it is true, but it was all his own,
and now is the only corner in his old home that is dear
to his memory. But these twelve beds, narrow as coffins,
standing so close together, the loud breathing of the
sleepers, {he uncleanliness of some of them, the insufficient
ventilation, all irritated his sensitive nerves to such a
degree that he sometimes lay awake for hours, tossing
to and fro, and attracting the attention of the overseer of
the room, who declared that " the boy's evil conscience,
it seemed, would not let him sleep."
As for any definite plan of escape, Richard could form
none ; once outside of the walls of the institution, he
must trust to chance, as he had never been in this direction
before, and had but a vague idea of his surroundings.
140 WET DID HE NOT DIE?
Therefore, when, one evening, he slipped out of the gar-
den gate towards the north, just after the ringing of the
bell for evening prayers, he stood still for awhile, unde-
cided whether he should turn to the left, towards the
city, or in the other direction, towards Wandsbeck or
Bugedorf, the first station on the railroad from Hamburg
to Berlin. What he most desired was to reach the
harbour and find Knudsen the fisherman ; but it was too
likely that they would go to the city first to look for him.
Only the previous week a boy who had run away had
been brought back thence by his mother.
To the right, then. He could still see the spire of the
church at Wandsbeck against the clear sky. He walked
off briskly in that direction.
At first the way led past modest little villas in the
midst of small gardens. Then came a farm here and
there, with barns and outhouses, and at last the road
ended in an extensive heathery moor. Lights were
burning in the houses with what was, to the homeless
boy, a cheering radiance, and he met only one or two
people in the road. As they passed him he retreated
to the shadow of hedge or fence, although he knew
that a pursuer must come upon him from behind.
Now and then he stood still, listening, gazing into the
gloom, for the night was not perfectly dark, although
clouds had arisen and veiled the moon.
Arrived upon the moor, Richard perceived that it was
traversed by two paths, leading right and left. The
Wandsbeck spire lay to the left; Richard turned into the
left hand path, and as he did so looked towards the right,
over the bare, desolate field, across which a cold wind blew
keenly, and where a windmill reared its ghostly giant
arms against the horizon. Was there not some one
coming from that direction ? Yes, there certainly was a
THE HOUSE OF CORRECTION. 141
man walking quickly towards him, his figure clearly
defined in the gloom. What was he doing upon the
moor at this time ? Might not some one have driven or
ridden across by the highroad that ran parallel to the
way he had taken, in order to meet the fugitive just at
this point ? Easily, it was undoubtedly so, and a
quarter of an hour earlier there would have been no
difficulty in recovering the runaway.
There was no shelter before him near at hand: at
some distance he could discern quite a large building of
a peculiar shape ; but even if he could have reached it
sooner than would really have been possible, it would
have been imprudent to risk detection in crossing the
moor, he would be seen.
Back, then, on the instant !
He had just passed a farmyard, and he hoped to re-
gain it unobserved. The door of a little outhouse stood
open, he slipped in, and found himself in a cow-stable.
The man came directly towards it, and Richard's heart
beat distressingly fast, as, looking through the crack of
the door, he saw him pass close by him, looking care-
fully from side to side, it was the Candidate, his special
shepherd.
Richard waited until he was sure that even by day-
light no trace of the man could be seen, and then
emerged and began to cross the moor, looking about him
with a deep sigh of relief. He was free, and yielding to
the momentary exultation inspired by the thought of
liberty, he tossed his cap into the air with a low cry of
delight.
Yet there was small cause, one would think, in his
prospects, for rejoicing. Alone and forsaken, upon a
wintry evening, with no shelter and no supper in ex-
pectation. But he had lived over this time too often in
142 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
imagination to be scared by the reality, he determined
to walk on all night that he might put a long distance
between himself and his prison, and he had often gone
without his supper.
He approached the strange building mentioned before.
It was long and low, and there were no windows in the
side next him, only a flight of wooden steps. Richard
walked around it to the other side. Here the structure
was open, and consisted of three or four stories of covered
galleries. The boy instantly concluded, from several ar-
ticles that were lying heaped in a corner, that he was on
a spot which had long been the goal of his boyish de-
sires the racecourse, and that the strange building was
the stand for the spectators and judges, a seat upon which
commanded a price of five marks. What a fine sight that
must be that could only be enjoyed at the cost of so large
a sum ! He had but two shillings in his pocket, two
shillings that he had saved up for this very time of
escape, it was all he possessed. What if he should
pass the night here beneath this shelter, and on the
morrow look out for some employment, even the meanest
drudgery in the Holstein territory, which was close at
hand, supporting himself as best he might until the
time when opening spring would bring the gales that
sailors love, when he could seek the Hamburg harbour
once more ? The boy's longing for the sea was irrepress-
ible.
He soon piled up some of the boards that were lying
about, so as to protect one corner of the building from
the wind, and then gathered together as many leaves as
he could collect from beneath the few trees in the vicinity.
It took time to gather a sufficient heap, but he had
plenty of that upon his hands, and there was nothing to
hinder his sleeping late upon the morrow.
WIDOWER AND HOUSEKEEPER. 143
At last his bed was completed, and he threw himself
upon it with a sensation of immense comfort. It was
neither very soft nor very warm, but the child from the
Ebraergang felt as happy as a king, and, with a confi-
dence often begotten of inexperience, let his thoughts
wander on towards the unknown future and the career
into which he had so boldly plunged that Bohemian
career, of the perils of which he had not even the most
distant idea.
CHAPTER XIV.
WIDOWER AND HOUSEKEEPER.
YEARS rolled on.
Gravensund is a widower, and time has not dealt
lightly with him. He looks like a man of fifty, although
he has only just passed forty. His face never very in-
teresting in features or expression except for its kindly
smile has grown quite thin. His straight brown hair
is sprinkled with gray, and his really fine blue eyes look
out so wearily from beneath their drooping eyelids that
he seems to be always suffering either in body or in
mind. Nevertheless, he is thoroughly well physically,
he has only accustomed himself to a belief in his own
delicacy of constitution, because Therese Jager is al-
ways prompting him to minute cares for his health,
which she apparently makes her first object in life.
The man's nature had always been deficient in energy
and independence, and the want of these qualities had
been strikingly developed since Heaven had taken his
144 WE 7 DID HE NOT DIE?
dear Emma from him. It was necessary that he should
lean upon some strong feminine nature ; but any incite-
ment to exertion would have been better for him than
the perpetual indulgence of his grief, which, justifiable as
it might be, became unmanly when it served wholly to
unnerve him. As time passed on, grief for his loss and
inevitable ennui were strangely mingled in his mind,
and it is doubtful whether at last the widower himself
could distinguish the one from the other.
Although far from inhospitable, Herr Gravensund had
never been in the habit of entertaining many guests.
The gloomy religious views entertained by himself and
his wife had made them intolerant and exclusive ; while,
on the other hand, those who did not share these views
would have found little to interest them long in a house
where, in spite of a great degree of artistic adornment,
a melancholy pietism was the order of the day.
Madame Graveusund's gentle, amiable disposition,
that no puritanic severity could injure, had always
shed a mild lustre upon her immediate circle, which,
however, the long years of her ill health had gradually
reduced in size until it was actually limited to the indi-
viduals of her own household and a few members of her
church, who were precisely of her mode of thought.
After her death, Herr Gravensund had withdrawn him-
self even from social intercourse with this limited circle,
for which, he said, he had lost all interest. He did not
know that he had never really possessed any for it, that
it was utterly unsuited to a man of his temperament,
and that he had listened for years to its psalms and
hymns through the ears of his idolized wife.
He believed that Satan was busy with his soul when-
ever he experienced any inclination to mix once more in
" the Babel of worldly delights," by which he understood,
WIDOWER AND HOUSEKEEPER. 145
however, nothing rnore than going to the opera, to the
theatre, and to other than sacred concerts.
In former years, he had naturally found much innocent
enjoyment in such amusements. Not so his wife, who
told him how, upon the only occasion when she had
gone to the opera, led thither by sinful curiosity in spite
of the warnings of conscience, she had found it all very
pleasant until the prinia donna had tempted the Lord
by falling upon her knees on the stage, while a vain,
frivolous prayer escaped her lips in song.
" Every one around me listened composedly," she said ;
" but I was so shocked that, in spite of the interruption
that I caused, I arose instantly and left the place. Then
I took a solemn oath that no power of the Evil One should
ever induce me to cross the threshold again of one of
those temples of Baal, and I was right, was I not,
dearest Wilhelm ?"
And of course Wilhelm thought that those gentle blue
eyes, raised so pleadingly to his own, could be nothing
else than right ; and, as his nature was the reverse of
enthusiastic, and he had never been very devoted to the
opera, he did not sacrifice much in giving it up entirely.
Now, indeed, that the spring-flowers had bloomed
and faded many times upon Emma's grave, Gravensund
would doubtless have become once more a man inno-
cently inclined to worldly pleasures had there not been
exercised over him a control so full of tact, so perfect,
that he never had a suspicion that he was not the freest
and most independent of men. And herein lay the
power of this control.
" I think the first stage of affliction is passed," said
Pastor Siegfried to Therese some months after Madame
Gravensund's death. " Now we must set ourselves to
work in earnest."
13
146 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
Therese only looked at him with an air of cool inquiry,
although she perfectly understood his meaning.
"You remember the conversation that we had long
ago, my dear Therese, in view of this period of time ?"
" I remember what you allude to."
" Until now there has been nothing to be done, but
now, I repeat, our work begins in earnest."
" Our ?" Therese asked expressively.
" Well, to speak more correctly, your, my dear friend.
Honour to whom honour is due. Still I know that you
will not scorn my advice or refuse to pay heed to my de-
sires, that have for their sole aim the welfare of the
church."
He spoke in a tone which might have caused an un
prejudiced observer to doubt whether his words were
meant in courtesy or conveyed a covert menace, and
Ther.ese's reply was none the less ambiguous.
"I am yours to command, Herr Pastor." And she
smiled, not a very agreeable smile, however.
" I am quite sure that you will allow no neglect in all
the arrangements for material comfort over which you
hold sway," Siegfried continued. " I know that he
will have no cause to complain of the management of
his domestic affairs. You understand too well what a
spoiled child of luxury he is. But, and this is the im-
portant point, you must devise means to keep the memory
of his pious wife fresh and vivid, for the idea of a second
marriage must never occur to him, while at the same
time you must so address yourself to his intellect as to
take the place of an old and confidential friend, that he
may not need other companionship. Talk continually
with him of his Emma, but contrive that he shall miss
her as little as possible in his daily life."
The worthy associates then went into various details
WIDOWER AND HOUSEKEEPER. 147
with regard to the business in hand, for Therese's inter-
ests were too deeply at stake to prevent her from lending
a willing ear to the Pastor's advice. She shared his
wish that Gravensuud should not marry again, and, as
all that Siegfried proposed only conduced to render her
position in the household more firm and desirable, she
tried to carry out his plans, and those differences
which must sometimes take place between such impe-
rious natures were of most infrequent occurrence.
As Gravensund seemed to himself to be as com-
fortable in all respects as it was possible for a widower
to be, all went well, and Siegfried could declare with
unction, " The Lord is with us and has blessed our
undertaking."
During Madame Gravensund's lifetime, Therese had
bad no place in the drawing-room where the husband and
wife sat together, but when domestic duties did not
engage her attention had always occupied a corner of
the nursery. Now the drawing-room was empty and
deserted, for Herr Gravensund withdrew to his library,
where he occupied himself with matters connected with
the management of his large estate, received visits, and
was surrounded by his books and papers.
Therese Jager determined to effect a change here. The
nursery needed papering and painting, and so, for a time,
the children took possession of the drawing-room, which
thus became an attractive place to their father again,
in spite of the noise, and Fraulein Jager, who sat in
one corner at her work-table, had frequent opportunities
of exchanging a few words upon various subjects with
the master of the house.
After awhile the children returned to their old quarters,
but Fraulein Therese's work-table maintained its place.
It was an antique, but well-preserved piece of French
148 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
furniture, and had once belonged to Herr Gravensund's
mother. Who would have attached any importance to
so trifling an article? and yet it was the first strong-
hold upon foreign territory gained by a neighbour bent
upon conquest, the first slight lien upon an estate of
millions.
Sometimes, not often, Therese would sit there at work,
granting it as a special indulgence to the children to play
in the drawing-room for awhile. But they always proved
too noisy on these occasions, and were invariably sent
up-stairs to the nurse in the nursery, while Mam'selle
Jager remained at her work-table. Thus it happened
that now and then Herr Gravensund found her alone in
the drawing-room, and he did not notice that these occur-
rences increased gradually in frequency, because her being
there was a matter of perfect indifference to him.
Our ambitious Therese planted another battery most
successfully, on the day when she gave her basket of keys
a place upon her work-table. Who took any note of
such an insignificant object when it appeared there for
the first time? But in a few days the servants all knew
that since it was there its mistress could not be far
off, and gradually Herr Gravensund himself grew ac-
customed to finding Mam'selle Jager in what had been
his wife's special retreat. Of course she had far too much
tact ever to intrude upon him, but it was very convenient,
when he wanted to know anything about the children,
the servants, or the housekeeping, just to open the door
of his library and find Therese, who could answer all his
questions satisfactorily, in the adjoining drawing-room,
which she now designated, in Addressing the servants, as
"my room."
And in the course of time Herr Gravensund sought
this apartment when he needed entertainment, or when
WIDOWER AND HOUSEKEEPER. 149
visitors happened to be shown in here. On these latter
occasions, Therese at first arose to take her sewing else-
where, but Herr Gravesund always said, " Pray remain ;"
and at last she complied modestly with his request, and
sat reserved and silent at her table, displaying, however,
when it was required, such graceful familiarity with the
conventionalities of society that Herr Gravensund thought
his housekeeper far too refined for the station she occu-
pied, and superior in tact and courtesy to many of his
visitors. He never troubled himself as to where she
could have learned such grace of manner. And his
guests, seeing the consideration with which she was
treated by their host, imitated his example ; so that in
the lapse of years it really came to look as if Therese
were the miftress of the house, or at least what Pastor
Siegfried had hoped to see her, the sisterly or motherly
friend of the millionaire.
But it needed much clever manoeuvring on Therese's
part before this position was finally attained, and in her
manoeuvres nothing stood her in better stead than her
talent for reading well aloud. She determined to be
sought in the exercise of this talent, and the children
were her tools to this end. Of course their progress in
their studies was interesting to their father, and they
were made to read aloud to him. If they stammered or
read with a wrong emphasis, Fraulein Jager would
take the book from them and read a page or two aloud
herself, while Herr Gravensund was secretly amazed at
the charming talent possessed by his housekeeper thus
artlessly brought to light. There was no need that he
should be informed that the cultivation of this talent was
due to a resolution she had once formed of going upon
the stage. Her voice was full, sonorous, and flexible,
13*
150 WJir DID HE NOT DIE?
not especially striking in conversation, except for its low
modulation, but charming in tone and quality as soon as
it was slightly raised in reading aloud.
And yet Herr Gravensund was aware that his house-
keeper possessed this delightful talent long before he
ever thought of availing himself of it, simply because
he had never been used to listen to reading aloud.
His dear Emma had not been quite strong in the
chest and could not exert her voice ; he had often
beguiled her hours of suffering and weakness by reading
to her. And then, too, much as he valued his house-
keeper, and superior as he thought her; he was not yet
prepared to admit her to those privileges of intercourse
that would be involved in a request to read aloud
to him. So that Fraulein Jager would hav% had to wait
some time for the advantage promised her by her agree-
able accomplishment, had not a timely attack of weak-
ness of the eyes come to her assistance.
She had devised many crafty plans to gain her end,
but they had all come to naught. She had sometimes
asked Siegfried to assist her, and sometimes begged him
to refrain from all interference in the matter, since a hint
of collusion between them would spoil all.
But one day, when Pastor Siegfried came to visit his
"young friend/' as he was still wont to call Herr Graven-
sund, he found him sitting with his back to the window,
the curtains of which were closely drawn.
" I do not know what can be the matter with my eyes,"
he replied to the Pastor's tenderly anxious inquiries. "I
have always bad the strongest eyes in the world ; but
this morning there is a decided pain in them, and I can-
not bear the light."
"Dear me, how unfortunate !" rejoined Siegfried, in a
tone of deep sympathy. " Let me look at them. Oh,
WIDOWER AND HOUSEKEEPER. 151
yes, I see : the veins are injected and the lids are inflamed.
Are you not going to send for the doctor ?"
" Why, I thought I would wait awhile first. Fraulein
Jager has bathed them for me with cold water, and the
pain is relieved, but it is so tiresome not to be able to
do anything."
" Be thankful, my dear friend, that there is no neces-
sity for your doing anything," said the Pastor with a
profound sigh, as if his own duties were indeed a heavy
burden.
" Hm I'm very much tired of doing nothing," said
Herr Gravensund in reply.
" I can easily believe it. Do you feel no desire to
walk out?"
" No, I went into the garden, but I could not bear the
bright sunshine. And the children are at school. I have
no one to turn to now !"
" The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away.
Blessed be the name of the Lord 1" ejaculated Siegfried
with unction, folding his white hands.
Gravensund sighed and said nothing. Suddenly an
idea occurred to the Pastor. Why had he not thought
of it before ?
" Would you not like to listen to some reading aloud,
my dear friend ?" he asked.
" Reading aloud ?"
" Yes. Do you not know some one who would per-
form this service for you ? I would do it gladly myself,
but my duties are too pressing."
" Oh, Herr Pastor, I could not think of allowing such
a thing!"
"Just now I have more to do than I can possibly ac-
complish," Siegfried continued, "but if you know of no
one to undertake the office, I may very probably find
152 WET DID HE NOT DIE?
some one for you some poor fellow who will be glad to
read to you for a few shillings an hour."
" Hm not a bad idea," said Gravensund.
" Why, it's the most delightful thing in the world,"
said the Pastor. " You recline at ease upon your lounge,"
and the Pastor leaned back comfortably as he spoke,
" close your eyes, if you choose, and smoke a delicious
cigar. Nothing could be finer, but then a really good
reader is not easy to find."
" Mam'selle Jager reads aloud very well," said Graven-
sund, in a reflectiug tone.
"Fraulein Jager!" cried Siegfried, starting up from
his luxurious position. " Fraulein Jager ! to be sure
she does. What could I have been thinking of not to
remember that? Her reading is quite extraordinary.
She will do admirably well, indeed, she was looking
for a situation as a companion to read aloud when she
yielded to my earnest entreaty and accepted the post of
housekeeper in your house."
" I hope she has never had reason to regret doing so."
" Not for a moment no. She assured me only lately
that her post was almost a sinecure. She will consider
it a great honour to read aloud to you, Herr Graven-
sund, and will regard being requested to do so as an
acknowledgment of her fidelity in her duties."
" Yes, yes, I will ask her to read to me, it is so dis-
agreeable to have a stranger perform such services.
One never knows how to treat a stranger under such
circumstances. I shall not be at all embarrassed by
Mam'selle Jager's presence."
Herr Gravensund only awaited the Pastor's departure
to request Therese, with the courtesy that was native to
him, to read aloud to him. Perhaps he only intended to
ask this service of her during the time when the state
WIDOWER AND HOUSEKEEPER. 153
of his eyes incapacitated him from reading himself, but
Fraulein Jager did not yield the ground thus gained, any
more than upon the former occasion when she established
her work-table and basket of keys in the drawing-room.
An inflammation of the eyes is a tedious affair, and
when they were to all appearance quite strong again,
Therese strenuously urged it upon Herr Gravensund
not to try them by reading by gas-light, and offered to
devote all her evenings to reading aloud, adding mod-
estly, " I shall but be doing my duty, you know, Herr
Gravensund."
" Siegfried was right," thought Gravensund to him-
self, " it is most delightful to listen to reading aloud, and
Therese seems to like to do it. We always like to do
what we do remarkably well. It is marvellous how
well she reads. Siegfried himself could not do it better,
and then she understands what she reads. She really
has a cultivated mind. I cannot comprehend it I"
And the rich man wondered how a poor girl, without
means, could be better instructed than so many ladies of
his acquaintance, who had attended a fashionable school
until they were fifteen or sixteen years old, and then
thrown aside their books for the remainder of their lives.
A woman who attends to a man's household, directs
his servants, nay, even instructs his children, and re-
ceives a salary for her services, may still be considered
his inferior in the social scale, and may be such in
reality. But a woman who reads aloud to a man, a
woman who pursues with him the same train of thought,
for hours at a time, is interested and excited by the samo
words, cheered and depressed, instructed and edified with
him, a woman from whose lips the words flow that
awaken such manifold emotions, and who must share
them, because she is the medium through which they
154 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
are imparted, and a woman, besides, who must be ac-
knowledged to understand what she reads, such a
woman can never be considered her employer's inferior:
she is his equal in every respect.
Therese thoroughly understood what she was about
when she eagerly embraced her office as reader to Herr
Gravensund. A youthful coquette would have tried
other ways and means of establishing her empire ; but
for a woman of Therese's years and settled habits there
could have been no wiser course to attain her end to
become* the confidential friend of the man whom she
wished to influence.
In fact the reading led to a much more intimate inter-
course between Herr Gravensund and his housekeeper.
There were most interesting conversations upon the sub-
ject of the book in hand, opinions were interchanged
upon equal ground, interruptions came to be distasteful
to each of them, and, by a judicious selection of books to
be read, Therese strengthened and confirmed her strong
hold in the territory she had usurped.
CHAPTER XV.
RETURNING HOME.
GRAVENSUND'S spacious mansion was usually very
silent and deserted. At Frau Gravensund's death the
children were all at home, and Netta's cheerful, lively
temperament had great influence upon the others, who,
although her inferiors in capacity, were much more do-
cile than she. For this very reason Netta was greatly
RETURNING HOME. 155
in Fraulein Jager'a way, they mutually disliked one
another, Netta's dislike of the housekeeper being very
freely expressed on all occasions, while Therese found it
advisable to conceal her antipathy for the frank, out-
spoken child. When, however, Netta was the subject of
conversation between herself and Herr Gravensund, she
laid much stress upon the child's great but very danger-
ous force of character. " Her constant gayety and frank-
ness prepossess every one in her favour," said she ; " but,
unfortunately, she is so obstinate, so resolved upon hav-
ing her own way, that I fear she will never attain to
any of those gentler Christian virtues that make Anna,
little angel, so attractive."
" Butshe has such an excellent heart, "rejoined Graven-
sund, who, in memory of his idolized Emma, loved Netta
like his own child.
"So she has," Therese assented, "you are quite right;
but her waywardness prevents her good heart from in-
fluencing her as it ought, it is natural that it should be'
so. However, she will, doubtless, be a great satisfaction
to you in the future. I only dread the effect of her ex-
ample upon her brother and sister."
" But they are very fond of her."
" Yes, that's true, and for that very reason her influ-
ence over them is immense. This morning, for instance,
Netta would not say her prayers."
"Wouldn't say her prayers ?"
" Wouldn't say her prayers I" Therese repeated, em-
phasizing the terrible fact. She forbore, however, to
explain how the refusal had come to pass. The truth of
the matter was, that, after the children were dressed that
morning, Therese stood them up before her in a row,
and, bidding them fold their hands upon their breasts,
told them to repeat together after her the words of a
156 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
prayer. Scarcely had she uttered the words, " Lord,
look down " when Netta ruined the effect of the
whole scene by skipping from her place and declaring,
" No, no ! I will not say my prayers so 1 I don't like
it, we never used to say them so to mamma."
And when Therese indignantly attempted to compel
her to obey, the impertinent child quoted a most incon-
venient verse from the Bible to justify her conduct.
" The Bible says," declared Netta, " ' When thou pray-
est, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door,
pray to thy Father in secret,' and that's the way I mean
to say my prayers, and not just whenever you tell me to."
Of course this had a very undesirable effect upon the
other children, who, although they had not actually re-
fused to obey, had been very inattentive and negligent.
On other occasions Therese would report to Herr
Gravensund instances of Netta's ill treatment of the ser-
vants, in which reports there would always be some grain
"of truth, for the child was overflowing with animal spirits,
and played many a mischievous prank, indeed, she was
by no means a model child, although she was continually
giving evidence of thorough truthfulness of character and
kindness of heart qualities which were never hinted at
by Therese in speaking to Herr Gravensund of Netta's
behaviour; while, on the contrary, any ill-learned lesson
at school or trifling misdemeanour was dwelt upon with
emphasis, and so persistently that at last Herr Graven-
suud began to believe that Therese was right that it
was really best to send Netta to boarding-school. If he
could only be sure that his Emma would have approved
such a course !
" Ah," sighed Therese, " if Antoinette only resembled
in character her sister, your angel wife I But the world
does not contain another so pure and good. And they
RETURNING HOME. 15 Y
were only half-sisters, to be sure ! How sweet and
gentle Anna is ! there you see all her mother's lovely
traits of character, I never could forgive myself if
Netta's wayward, stubborn disposition should have a
deleterious effect upon that child's docile nature."
Yes, yes, it really would have been inexcusable in
Herr Gravensund not to consider, as of the first impor-
tance, the welfare of his own his Emma's own children ;
and it would be much better besides for Netta that she
should be subjected to the stricter discipline of a large
school. In the midst of companions of her own age she
would soon be cured of those faults which had, perhaps,
been treated with too great leniency in the home circle.
So it was announced to Netta that she was to go to
Kiel, to be placed at a celebrated boarding-school there ;
and, after the first shock of her surprise was past, the
child's delight in the prospect of the change was great.
When Fraulein Jager depicted in glowing colours to
Herr Gravensund Netta's joyous anticipations, she dwelt
at length upon the want of heart that the child mani-
fested in cherishing such hopes upon leaving home.
But as the time for her departure drew near, the girl's
buoyant spirits failed her utterly, the merry-hearted,
laughing Netta was hardly to be recognized. She kept
close to Anna's side most of the time, and petted and
caressed her incessantly. There was a grand ceremonial
afternoon in the nursery, when Netta solemnly divided
all her toys and treasures between the two other children ;
and she would stand close by Heir Gravensund's chair
for a half-hour at a time, leaning her head upon his
shoulder, and only too happy to be allowed to render him
the slightest service. Therese alone, of all the household,
received no mark of tenderness from the child, who
declared in strict confidence to Anna and Willy, "It
14
158 WHY DTD HE NOT DIEf
really is delightful to think that I shall have no more to
do with that old gray cat." The children all cried
bitterly when they separated; but Netta's letters were
always bright and contented, and Herr Gravensund felt
quite sure that he had acted judiciously.
And one by one the years rolled on, and he began to
wonder whether it was not time for Netta to leave
school, for Willy was soon to leave home, and Anna,
pale, silent, and often suffering, was the only one of his
children who would remain with him. Fraulein Jager
was, of course, all kindness and consideration, both
towards Anna and himself, but he always looked for-
ward with delight to Netta's holidays, which were
passed at home ; and when she went back to school again
life seemed to grow rather shady and dull once more,
still, he must do his duty by her.
Nevertheless, Netta would soon be a woman grown,
and her home would then of course be beneath his roof,
where she belonged, as he reminded himself, with great
satisfaction, and as Fraulein Jager also acknowledged to
herself, with great bitterness of soul, seeing that she was
powerless to prevent that return home of Netta's, which
she had always foreseen. She had in former years
found comfort in the thought that " time brings counsel ;"
but time had flown by, and there was no counsel at hand
to prevent what she feared. If the child Netta, with her
large, wiselike eyes, and her ready replies, had been so
intolerable, what would she be after all these years of
added intelligence and independence ? Why, the young
girl might easily overthrow all that structure of despotic
household sway that Therese had erected with such infi-
nite pains.
The holidays were at hand the last that Netta was to
spend at home as a guest ; when she next returned, it
RETURNING HOME. 159
would be to remain ; all Therese's machinations had been
useless to postpone this return, for Willy was to leave
home at the same time, for the military school.
The previous year Netta had been undeniably still at
the bread-and-butter age, but the young lady who was
received this year by Herr Gravensund, with Willy and
Anna, at the railroad depot, was tall and stately, almost
as tall as Herr Gravensund. And how lovely she had
grown! She had always been a graceful, charming
child, but there was no denying her claim now to an
almost ideal beauty. The oval face of girlhood had re-
placed the chubby cheeks of the child, her brow was
broad and low, and those dark-blue eyes hid a world of
serious thought and purpose in their depths, however
the roguish dimples in cheeks and chin might gainsay
them.
But upon the way home in the carriage, where Netta
chatted and jested with Anna, and told of what she knew
would interest those who loved her, she showed herself
the same Netta as of old, and greatly bewildered Willy,
who hardly knew how to treat this beautiful girl, who
was still the merry, laughter-loving sister whom he re-
membered. He was alternately dignified and confiding,
never entirely unmindful of the state which belongs of
course to a young cadet already aspiring to the favour
of women, or of the glossy glory of his first stove-pipe
hat.
Therese greeted Netta with distinguished cordiality,
although she was perfectly aware that the young girl
was eminently fitted to usurp her dominion. If Netta
came home to live, there would of course be a question
as to who should rule the household, she, who had
wielded the sceptre so successfully for so many years,
whose sway even this insolent intruder had once owned,
160 WIIY DID HE NOT DIE?
or the girl who might claim a position as daughter of
the house to which a father's love, or "nonsensical folly,"
as Therese called it, entitled her.
Pastor Siegfried, a constant guest at all domestic fes-
tivals at Herr Gravensund's, soon made his appearance
to welcome Netta home. She had always been regarded
by him with indifference, since she was not Gravensund's
daughter, and could in nowise be considered as his heiress,
indeed, was mistress of an income of her own all-suffi-
cient for her needs. He, with Therese for an ally, needed
no assistance in moulding Herr Gravensund to his will.
He understood Therese too well not to know that she
hated the beautiful girl, who could not but be her special
rival. But he rather chuckled over the knowledge. "A
quarrel between two women," he said to himself, "is sure
to be amusing;" and he never doubted but that Therese
would conquer in the end, for how could a novice in
tactics hope for victory with such a general of intrigue
as Mam'selle Jager in the field against her!
"You have not seen this girl yet," Therese said to
him after receiving him, as it happened, alone, for the two
girls had gone to drive with their father. "You have not
seen her for two years, for you were at Baden when
she came home last year for her vacation."
"But I know all about her. She has grown tall, and
pretty, with something of an air besides, but she is a
child in capacity and mind, for all that."
"You are quite mistaken," said Therese.
"And what else could we expect f" the Pastor con-
tinued, pursuing his own train of thought. " Children
grow up, little girls become young women, according to
the wise decrees of an overruling Providence."
" It is, of course, a matter of small moment to you,"
Therese rejoined fretfully ; " but this fool of a girl will drive
RETURNING HOME-. 161
me from the house. See, he has taken them both out to
drive, I usually drive too, whenever I wish to. Not
that it's any loss, for it's stupid work always driving in a
close carriage on account of Anna's health. To be sure,
he invited me to go to-day, but I saw perfectly well I
was not wanted, and so I pretended to have no time. And
you should have seen the way in which Netta looked from
me to her father, as if she were fairly astounded by such
condescending courtesy upon his part."
"Your triumph is all the more brilliant, Therese ; I
confess that your achievements astound even me, five
years ago I never dreamed that the time would come
when Gravensund would invite you to make a third in
the carriage with Anna and himself."
" Hm 1" said Therese with a shrug as she turned to the
window without any further reply, quite unable, however,
to repress a self-satisfied smile.
" If we can only succeed with the Lord's aid in carry-
ing out our plans," the Pastor continued, "you shall
confess that I keep my promises truly, and must admit
that I deserve you gratitude. You cannot do better than
pursue your present course, avoiding all appearance of
collusion, but you remember how faithfully my promise
was fulfilled formerly in the matter of the journey to a
watering-place ?"
Therese nodded assent.
" Well, my present promise shall be kept just as faith-
fully : Gravensund shall leave you a legacy that will
enable you to live like a lady in any small town that you
may select."
" Very likely," replied Therese, with strange emphasis,
still standing at the window. " But the carriage is at tlie
door," she added, hastily pulling the bell to order the
tea-tray.
14*
162 WET DID HE NOT DIE?
Immediately afterward Herr Gravensund entered the
room followed by Netta.
The Pastor was certainly amazed. He was far too
much of a connoisseur in beauty to deny for one instant
the harmony and grace in Netta's appearance ; involun-
tarily he bowed respectfully instead of bestowing the care-
less greeting and kiss which had been the portion of the
Netta of former years. He quickly recovered himself,
although he forgot for the moment his customary unc-
tional blessing, and taking Netta's hand said to Herr
Gravensund,
" You must introduce this young lady to me, my friend,
I do not know her."
"Indeed, I can easily believe you, "replied Herr Gra-
vensund ; " you are not the first to whom she has seemed
a stranger."
" Fie, fie, Herr Pastor !" Netta said with a pretty air
of sauciness ; " shall the guide, philosopher, and friend of
this house be the first to give me a lesson in forgetting
old acquaintances ?"
" Aha ! now I recognize the little mischief of old times.
But welcome to this house," he continued, as if enough
had been said in a jesting vein. " The Lord bless your
coming in !"
Then tea was made, and Therese applied herself to the
performance of her usual duties, paying special attention,
as she was wont, to the master of the house, while Netta
lavished little sisterly kindnesses upon Anna, with an
affectionate tenderness that fully explained her young
sister's almost passionate devotion to her.
It was customary in this house to say grace both be-
fore and after every meal, that it might be manifest that
the inmates were truly grateful, not only for soup and
meat and all that constitutes a dinner, but for tea and
RETURNING HOME. 163
bread and butter as well. Siegfried noticed that Netta
moved her teacup before he had folded his hands and
pronounced the words of the grace, and that while he did so
she was evidently not praying, although she sat still and
cast down her eyes. These were significant symptoms
of frivolity.
During the meal the conversation turned upon mis-
sionary and church matters, while Netta was talking in a
low tone with Anna. Suddenly Siegfried addressed her
with the question : " And now tell me, my dear daughter
in the Lord, do you love Christ your Redeemer and
Saviour?"
" What ?" asked Netta, amazed.
" I would ask," Siegfried continued in the tone of
authority which befitted his office as he conceived it,
" after the welfare of your soul. Is it pressing onward
for the high prize ? Do you cultivate secret prayer ?"
" But, Herr Pastor," said Netta, not without embar-
rassment, " it seems to me that if I answer you as you
desire, the prayer can be secret no longer."
" Oh, my daughter I" Siegfried began, not one whit
abashed and in a tone of admonition, " you must not re-
sent the deep interest that I, as your spiritual guide, take
in all that concerns your immortal soul. Have you
carefully put out at interest the talent confided to you,
and do you keep constantly in mind that ' Blessed are
the poor in spirit' ?"
Netta was silent, evidently greatly annoyed by an ex-
amination in which she was sure she could find no favour
in the Pastor's eyes, and involuntarily she cast an appeal-
ing glance at Herr Gravensund.
He had been rather puzzled by her answer, but he was
far from experiencing the holy horror which was expressed
in the countenances of Therese and the Pastor, and so he
164 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
said kindly, " Think about these things, Netta dear, and
then we will talk over them together, shall we not?"
"Most certainly, if you wish it," was the reply.
" I fear Fraulein Wildhof is rather lax in matters of
religion," Gravensund continued, turning to Siegfried ;
" but I am very much pleased with her establishment in
other respects, and I am half inclined to send Anna to her
for a year, when she gets a little stronger. The physician
advises a southern climate, but he says that the sea-
breeze would be very good for her also, and then she
could be near us."
" But of what use would that be, papa ?" said Anna.
" I should never see you, for Netta has only been allowed
to come to us once a year."
" Oh, it would be different with you, Anna darling,"
said Netta. " You are not well, and your father and
sister and brother could visit you as often as they
pleased."
"But I am not ill."
" Then," said Netta playfully, " no one can come near
you."
" Then I will say I am ill ; and, indeed, it will not
be quite a falsehood, for I really am not quite well. My
heart beats terribly sometimes. Just feel it now." And
she laid Netta's hand upon her left side.
" Oh, that's nothing," said Netta, with apparent indif-
ference, although there was a sharp pang at her and her
father's heart as Pastor Siegfried changed the subject of
conversation.
NETTA'S RESOLUTION. 165
CHAPTER XVI.
NETTA'S RESOLUTION.
WHEN Herr Gravensund declared that he was afraid
that the ideas of the instructress at Kiel upon religious
matters were rather lax, he had expressed a fear entirely
justifiable from his point of view, for Fraulein Wildhof
was far from sharing the pietistic tendencies of the
Gravensund household.
It certainly was remarkable that his choice had fallen
upon her establishment, and Siegfried, who might have
influenced him in the matter, took so little interest in
Netta that he did not think it worth while to interfere.
The school had a great reputation, and was extensively
patronized. Although it was not the custom in Ham-
burg, as in other parts of Germany, to send a girl away
from home to complete her education, still, when circum-
stances rendered such a course necessary, Kiel was sure
to be selected as containing the best of boarding-schools.
Netta was twelve years old when she was sent thither,
and, although younger than any of her schoolmates, she
soon became the favourite of the school, her temper was
so sunny and her disposition so vivacious. Fraulein
Wildhoff judiciously allowed her pupils entire liberty in
all religious matters. When any of them attained the
age for confirmation, that ceremony took place with all
due decorum, but without any attempt upon the part of
their teachers to produce an unhealthy excitement in the
religious sensibilities of their pupils. The occasion was,
therefore, deficient perhaps in its usual attributes of
166 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
solemn mystery; but Fraulein Wildhof's course was
prompted either by her conviction that in Germany the
act of confirmation had degenerated into a purely civil
institution, or she thought it a matter in which no one
could usurp a parent's authority.
With regard to Netta, the absence in her new home of
the long prayers, so wearisome to the simple devotion of
a child, and the tedious hymn- and psalm-singing, with
the frequent reading from religious books that she could
not understand, was an immense relief. She found that
she could join sincerely in the short prayer in which the
household at Fraulein Wildhof's all united before going
to bed, and that attending church once on Sunday was
not so tiresome as she had hitherto found it.
But it must not be understood that the excellent
principal of the school was at all indifferent upon re-
ligious subjects ; far from it. She was engaged in a per-
petual endeavour to present to her pupils, as their help
and stay in all their future lives, a faith that finds its
utterance in all that elevates the character and ennobles
the aim of existence. She was sick and weary of the
religion that consists chiefly, if not solely, in outward
form, in the repetition of devotional phrases, in the letter
that killeth, and she impressed upon the minds of those
under her charge the truth that upon those who fulfilled
the duties that lay nearest them and found their happi-
ness in forgetfulness of self, and thought for others, light
would arise upon all things spiritual and divine. She
encouraged the individual development of each one of
her scholars, and naturally enough a spirit of inquiry
was generated among those older and more intelligent,
which was very destructive in its results to the sancti-
monious pietism so rife in Germany at the present day.
Many of the girls had been accustomed at home to see
NETTA'S RESOLUTION. 167
all religious observances regarded as an irksome but
necessary duty, and the air of mystery thrown around
the subject so imposing to a youthful mind, made them
shrink from the first inquiry after the truth as if from
sacrilege. But to Netta, whose innate force and candour
of character had involuntarily detected and turned from
the hollowness of many of the forms of religion which
had encompassed her childhood, the knowledge that she
was free to seek the truth for herself, untrammelled by
false guides, was like a transition from an overcrowded
temple made with hands, where the air is heavy with
clouds of incense, to the green, fragrant forest, that
"cathedral boundless as our wonder." When amazed
that those whom she loved, her father and sister, could
find refreshment in what was to her so insufficient, or when,
in her perplexity as to many questions that had always,
even to her childish apprehension, been vexing matters,
she sought assistance from Fraulein Wildhof, she was
sure to find aid and encouragement, and she regarded her
teacher with an enthusiastic affection that years bad no
power to lessen.
She was now sixteen years old. In the course of the
last year she had made great progress, intellectually and
mentally, a progress much accelerated by the experience
of her vacation spent in Hamburg, where the contrast
between her school and home-life bad struck her far
more forcibly than ever before. She had conformed out-
wardly, as of old, to the daily routine of pietistic formal-
ism that prevailed at Herr Gravensund's, but the ques-
tion daily suggested itself to her mind, " Is it possible
that I can ever be content to form a part of this exist-
ence ? Is this the place in life that I should occupy ?
God forbid I" And now she was at home again for her
last holidays, and of course there must be some outward
168 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
and visible sign of the conflict that so often occupied her
niiud.
It was a lovely summer evening. Netta, hanging on her
father's arm, was walking around the garden engaged in
lively conversation. She was very fond of the garden,
which, bounded on two sides by others, presented by no
means so confined an outlook as is customary with most
gardens in large cities.
" Our garden at Kiel," she said, " is very much larger
than this, you have seen it, papa; but it is not nearly as
lovely, for so much of it is taken up with vegetables, we
have only a strip in front for flowers."
"That is as it should be, my child," replied Herr
Gravensund. " Fraulein Wildhof, of course, takes a prac-
tical view of the case rather than an assthetic one."
" Of course, of course, papa ; I only mean to say, that
that is why I do so delight in this garden. Look at that
lovely bed of stocks, how thick they are, each one per-
fect in itself! It really looks tropical here."
" Yes, the gardener understands his business."
"And that Canna Indica, it was not there last year."
" No, there was a Calla there then, but it died."
"The bed of roses is just where it used to be, but
that bush of white flowers in the grass is new."
" Yes, that is one of the new ornamental shrubs from
Australia."
" And there are the Erythrina Cristagalli, and the ver-
benas, just as they used to be."
"I see you remember it all."
" Indeed I do, I love it all dearly, and there is so
little changed. Only when I look over there," said Netta,
turning towards the courtyard, "I hardly know the
place, I miss something."
" Our house is not changed at all."
NETTA' S RESOLUTION. 169
" No, it is not our house that is altered, but the little
house that used to stand there is gone."
" Yes, that is an improvement, it was a tumble-down
place."
" But the Kurtens lived there, the letter-carrier's family,
don't you remember? How often I have stood at their
window talking to Frau Kurten or to Richard! I should
like to see them again."
" What, Richard ? Why, you know that he "
" Yes, I know you told me he stole that silver coin,
but I cannot believe it, father."
"And yet it was the fact. He was caught in the very
act."
" I cannot think it. The boy was so true and brave,
and my devoted knight upon all occasions."
" That is why you defend him."
" Of course, and even if he did take the coin, he
must have only succumbed for a moment to temptation.
He probably thought it a pretty plaything, without an
idea of its real value."
" Perhaps, Netta dear," Herr Gravensund replied, not
caring to express his opinion to the contrary. " At all
events, he may have improved."
" Did you never hear anything more of him ?"
" No. He was sent to the House of Correction, as
you know. He ran away from there and disappeared
entirely."
" Yes, but that was long ago."
" Six years ago. The Kurtens lived there a year
longer, and Richard certainly never returned to them
during that time, or I should have heard of it from Willy
or Anna."
"And have you heard nothing of them since ?" Netta
asked again.
15
170 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
" Why, no, that is, when something was said of them
some time afterwards, and I asked Pastor Siegfried about
them, he told me that the Kurtens had heard nothing of
the boy, and they supposed he had gone to sea in some
vessel. Perhaps he may have perished in foreign coun-
tries long ago."
" That sounds very sad. I have a pleasant remem-
brance of Richard Kurten, and I wish the house were
still standing that I might talk with the old people now
and then."
" You would not care to do it if you could," replied
Herr Gravensund. " It is just like the pleasure that one
remembers enjoying as a child in the society of nurses
and servants. We certainly should not enjoy sitting in
the kitchen now, and listening to the conversation of
maids and footmen."
" Perhaps you are right," said Netta. "At any rate,
those were pleasant days, and I mean to forget all about
that unlucky coin."
" You always look at the bright side of everything,
my child. Yours is a blessed temperament. I wish
you were not going back to school again. Why should
you?"
" Oh, father," replied Netta, " I want to study so hard
this last year."
" W T ell, you can study at home, you can take private
lessons. I have already spoken to Victori about your
painting."
" But what would Fraulein Wildhof say ? You have
never hinted at such a thing to her."
" Oh, of course I should pay "
"And, father dear," Netta interrupted him, "you do
not really want me here. What could YOU do with such
an idler as I should be ?"
NETTA'S RESOLUTION. 171
" I not want you, Netta ? Why, you would read to
me, drive with me, entertain me."
" Hush ! hush !" cried Netta, with mischievous em-
phasis. " Mam'selle Jager might hear you. Do you
suppose I should have the courage to interfere with her
prerogatives? No, indeed, you do not understand.
Why, she is so jealous of me already that she looks
ready to annihilate me if I hand you a piece of bread."
" Jealous ? What nonsense ! You can share her
duties, and it will be a great relief to her."
" That is just what she does not want. What she
wants is But she takes excellent care of you."
Netta interrupted herself; she had no desire to depre-
ciate Mam'selle Jager's services in Gravensund's esti-
mation. " There really would be nothing for me to do."
" I never meant that you should be burdened with
duties," said Herr Gravensund ; " but girls of your age
and position can always occupy their time agreeably."
" You see I should like to occupy it usefully. I should
like to accomplish something," replied Netta.
" Well, you could assist in Anna's education, and pet
and take care of her: she loves you devotedly."
"As I do her, you know that, father dear. But then
she has so many teachers, and when I try to take care of
her I always come into collision with Therese."
" Well, well, there is no need to think about it before
the next six months are over. One would think you
were really making up your mind as to your future life."
" And suppose, father dear, that were really the case,"
said Netta, hardly daring to look Herr Gravensund in
the face.
" What do you mean ?" he asked, turning hastily
towards her. " What do you mean ?" he repeated,
as Netta made no immediate reply.
172 WET DID HE NOT DIE?
" I do really think, father, that it is high time for me
I am quite old enough to have very serious thoughts
upon the subject of my future career."
" Good heavens, child !" and Herr Gravensund dropped
her arm and confronted her in the path where they were
walking, "I sincerely hope you have no idea of
marrying for the present/' He was utterly unable to
interpret otherwise the talk of a girl in Netta's social
position about a " future career."
Netta laughed merrily, and cried, " Wide, wide of the
mark, time enough to think of that ten years hence."
" Well, then, what are you talking about ?"
" Do you suppose, father dear, that there is no career
possible for a girl except as a married woman ?"
" I have never thought anything about it," said Graven-
sund ; " but now that you speak of it I certainly cannot
see what other life there is for girls who do not need to
earn their living."
" How tiresome for us !"
" Are young girls usually tired of life, then ?"
" I really don't know ; but for my own part I should be
bored to death, and I hate being bored. And that is far
from being the worst of it," she added, very seriously,
"I must know why I am in the world, I must be conscious
each night that my day has not been wasted, and when
I come to die I must hope it will be found that I have
not lived in vain."
" Yes, Netta, that is right, and well-pleasing to the
Lord," said Herr Gravensund, not at all clear in his mind
as to the girl's real meaning. " I like to sum over in my
prayers every evening the duties that I have faithfully
fulfilled during the day, those duties imposed upon me
by my station in life and the circumstances by which I
am surrounded ; but I cannot wish to be numbered among
NETTA' S RESOLUTION. 173
those who earn their livelihood in the sweat of their
brows, on the contrary, I am thankful to the Lord in
that he has blessed me with worldly prosperity."
" Yes, that is very pleasant," replied Netta ; " but I
must have something more, I must be of use somewhere.
I am like the fifth wheel to a coach here, now, father dear,
you cannot deny it. As long as I am only a guest it is
all very well : I drive out, I embroider a little, I laugh
with Anna, and chatter to you, I take my ease and con-
form to the ways of the household, but I might as
well say it at once I could not endure it all for a con-
stancy."
"Netta! Netta! this is dreadful !" cried Herr Graven-
sund, utterly dismayed.
" Dearest father, do not misunderstand me," said Netta
tenderly, taking his hand in both hers. " Come, sit down
here with me for awhile," she continued, leading him to
a garden seat. " I have much to say. You know how
dearly I love you, and how glad I should be to make any
sacrifice for your sake. If you were poor, all that is
mine should be yours, I would gladly support you, if it
were necessary, by the work of my hands. But this life
of entire idleness I cannot endure. I cannot help it, it is
neither my fault nor to my credit. The fact is I ought
to have been born poor, and I cannot see why I should
put a force upon my inclinations just because I did not
happen to be so born. You cannot tell how delightful
it is in Kiel. The bell rings at six o'clock in the morn-
ing in summer to wake us, and an hour afterwards the
glad morning faces assemble for breakfast, and our busy,
happy day begins. Some write, others study, and others
practice or sew. Some of us have little domestic matters to
attend to. Every one is occupied, and time never hangs
heavy on our bands. The day passes so quickly, and
15*
174 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
our hours for recreation fly by as if on wings, and we
lay down to rest at night without having wasted a mo-
ment ; and although I resolve to lie awake and think over
many things, the first thing that I know the morning
bell rings and another happy day has begun."
" You think, then, it is very stupid here at home ?" said
Herr Gravensund, far more in sorrow than in anger.
" Oh, no, no, indeed I" cried Netta, who would not have
grieved her adopted father for the world. " I am here so
seldom, and then only for a few weeks. But if I were to
stay here always, well, even then it would not exactly
tire me, but I should feel as if I were neglecting my duty,
and living a useless life. In Kiel, I am always surprised
when the old clock strikes the hour ; but our ornamental
clocks here seem to have lost all energy, they chime forth
such lazy melody that I scarcely hear them."
Here Netta suddenly paused, conscious that she was
beginning to describe rather a monotonous existence.
" But, good heavens 1 Netta, what do you want, then ?"
asked Herr Gravensund, entirely unable to understand
what she meant.
" WJiy, papa, I would like to stay in Kiel, and come
to see you often, as often as you like."
" God bless my soul ! you cannot go to boarding-school
forever 1" cried Herr Gravensund, now thoroughly roused.
" Only for a little while longer as a scholar," Netta
replied, " and then as a teacher."
" What 1 a schoolmistress ? my daughter a child of
my family at least a schoolmistress?" There was not
much Christian humility in Herr Gravensund's tone.
" My dear father, I do not understand you. Is it not a
respectable calling ?"
" Oh, respectable enough, if you come to that; but who
ever heard what has put this absurd idea into your
NETTA'S RESOLUTION. 175
head ? There are schoolmistresses enough in the world,"
stammered Herr Gravensund in the excess of his agi-
tation. t
" I think I should be happy," Netta rejoined simply.
"I might perhaps make another choice if it lay within
my power, I should like to be an artist, but I have not
sufficient talent."
" Even that would be more respectable."
" Oh, father," said Netta, not without some irritation,
"the best, the truest people whom I know are teachers."
Herr Gravensund could not recover his composure
after such a shock to his sensibilities, such a wound in-
flicted upon his vanity. He was a good man and a
pious man, but it was in his relation to the business
community in which he dwelt as a rich man and a dis-
tinguished man, that he felt he had received a crushing
blow.
" I have discussed and settled it all with Fraulein
Wildhof, of course always with deference to your views
and wishes," Netta continued again after a short pause,
determined to bring the affair to a conclusion. " At the
close of the next term she will give me charge of the
drawing-class."
" And are you to be paid for your services ?" asked
Gravensund, greatly disgusted.
" Of course ; I can see nothing disgraceful in that."
"You do not need the money."
" No, only it is my due ; and, besides, Fraulein Wild-
hof would not accept my services without Compensa-
tion."
Herr Gravensund muttered something about "crazy
modern ideas of woman's mission," which Netta thought
best not to hear.
" I shall not use the money for myself," she said
176 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
quietly. " I do not need it, as you say. I shall defray
with it the expenses of education at Fraulein Wildhof 's
of some needy young girl as soon as I have earned
enough."
" Earned enough ! Oh, Netta, Netta, do you not hear
how unfeminine that sounds?" cried Herr Gravensund, his
mind in a perfect chaos of perplexity.
" Unfeminine ?"
" Yes, yes," he said angrily. " They always told me
that you were stubborn and wayward, even as a child,
and I never believed it, because you were obedient and
docile with me "
"And because I loved you so dearly," Netta interposed.
" But," Gravensund continued, " I now see that you
are possessed of a most unbecoming spirit of independ-
ence and self-assertion. You are not a Martha, to be
sure, but I fear that you are no Mary, either, ready to
sit submissively at the Lord's feet. And, by the way,
Netta, I remember that I have never asked you the
question that Pastor Siegfried put to you on the day of
your arrival here : ' Do you love Christ, your Lord and
Saviour ?'"
" Oh, father dear," said Netta, blushing deeply and
plucking the leaves from a bush near her, " how can I
answer you ?"
"You evade my question," replied Gravensund; and
for the first time he felt grave doubts with regard to the
welfare of the girl's soul, doubts that cast a ray of light
upon what had seemed entirely incomprehensible to him.
"Answer me, Netta," he cried, with something in his
manner and tone of the fanaticism that characterizes
pietists of his class, "are you in a state of grace,
are you mindful that a merciful God has granted you a
place among his elect?"
NETTA'S RESOLUTION. If?
" Why do you question me so sternly, father?"
" Sternly ? What do you mean ? You evade me
again. I hope I trust that you are not concealing
anything from me of which you and I should both be
bitterly ashamed !"
Then Netta's eyes flashed. She raised her head and
met her father's gaze with clear, honest eyes as she said
proudly,
"Ashamed? Oh, no, I am not ashamed, thank God.
No, I glory in knowing that I long and search diligently
for the truth. But, father dear, do you know what
truth is ?"
" Yes, I do know. But now I understand you; now
I know that you have lost the pearl of great price, cast
your crown of glory down into the defiling dust. In-
deed, I see now that it is far better we should not be
what we have been to each other. Do as you please, for
your ways are not my ways, nor your thoughts my
thoughts. In your self-righteousness, you have wan-
dered far from the path of Christian and feminine hu-
mility, and I can only pray that the Lord, in his mercy,
may deal with you as with the zealot on his way to
Damascus."
And the irritated man turned away, perfectly uncon-
scious of the pharisaical part he was playing, and walked
towards the house, while Netta looked after him much
distressed.
" It cannot be helped," she said. " I knew there would
be trouble. He was irritated by what I said at first, or
he would have left me more in sorrow than in anger. I
am very sorry, and yet I could not do otherwise, I
cannot help it."
178 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
CHAPTER XVII.
THE GOAL ATTAINED.
THERESE JAQER was so thoroughly content and satis-
fied that she had much difficulty in concealing her state of
mind beneath a becoming show of sympathy. Gravensund,
encountering her alone in the drawing-room after his in-
terview with Netta, poured into her willing ears a detailed
account of all that-had passed between himself and his
adopted daughter. Of course Therese did her best to
strengthen him in the view he took of the matter. She
encouraged his irritation at Netta's determination to
leave her home, for, aside from the unbecoming nature
of the meditated step, what ingratitude it revealed
on the girl's part ! She had been treated like a daughter
of the house ; she herself, Therese Jiiger, had taken all
possible pains to act a mother's part towards her in
spite of her obstinacy, and yet she could leave them
all with the utmost indifference, without a thought of
the grief she was causing! Therese would not speak
of herself, for she must acknowledge that she had never
looked for gratitude or affection from Netta ; but she could
not understand how the girl, in her desire for independ-
ence, could make light of the devotion of her father and
her angel of a sister. And a few hypocritical tears
shed at this point heightened the effect of what she was
saying.
Yet this withdrawal from her father's protecting care
was not the worst after all. If Netta had but remained
in a state of grace, there might have been hope for her,
THE GOAL ATTAINED. 179
the Lord would not have forsaken her. But, since she
had given Him up, and was sitting in the seat of the
scornful, how could a true, believing Christian do else
than say, " I thank thee, God, that I am not even as
this sinner," and be done with her ?
" But," said Therese, when she observed that gentler
thoughts of Netta we're beginning to arise in Graven-
sund's mind, " we will watch and pray for her, it is all
we can do. Perhaps the Lord may find her again at
some future day, and then our hearts and our arms shall
be wide open to receive the daughter who was lost and
is found."
" Oh, poor, poor Netta 1" said Gravensund.
"Yes, yes, poor indeed, lost, perhaps condemned for
all eternity. I hope our Anna, our precious darling, is
not contaminated. That' would be more than I could
bear."
"Don't be afraid ! The angels have charge of her."
" Yes, but there are angels of darkness, who sometimes
strive with the angels of light and overcome them."
" Do you think Netta could "
" I do, indeed, fear it. You remember how I always
dreaded Netta's influence and example, bow I wish that
I could have been as decidedly proved to have been in
the wrong as I have just been shown to be only too
right ! It was formerly a child's influence, now the
case is infinitely graver."
And Therese continued to demonstrate to Herr Graven-
sund the danger with which Netta's companionship threat-
ened his daughter, until he, weak and easily influenced
as ever, began really to close his heart against his
adopted daughter, and to look forward with something
like impatience for the time when she would return to
Kiel. Upon Anna, however, Therese's malicious hints
180 WHY DID UE NOT DIE?
and glances had not the slightest effect. Either she did
not understand them, or they only served to awaken her
suspicions of Therese herself, who was as nothing in her
eyes in comparison with her idolized sister.
"Do not disturb her," Herr Gravensund said to The-
rese. "I haVe requested Netta not to mention her
determination to Anna, but only to tell her that she
is not to leave school next Christmas. We can break
it to her gradually. I had rather speak to her of it
myself."
Netta was much too acute and clever not to perceive
that Anna was the only one of the household who would
lament her absence ; she certainly was not in the least
deceived by the hypocritical expressions of regret uttered
by Fruuleiu Jager. What an odd part Therese played
in her old home ! Part mistress, part maid. A servant,
that is, as far as Herr Gravensund was concerned,
absolute mistress over all else. And even her nominal
master, was not he too in subjection to her ? At all
events, there was a strange intimacy established be-
tween them. Either it had not existed in former
years, or Netta had only lately grown old enough to
observe it.
It really seemed as if Therese paraded this intimacy in
her present security, for Netta was no longer a formi-
dable obstacle in her path. And there was undoubtedly
a change too in the housekeeper's exterior. She still con-
tinued, as of old, to wear gray dresses, but the material
of which they were made was exquisitely fine, and adapted
itself with such extreme elegance to the graceful out-
lines of her figure that Netta could not but confess to
herself, "She is very handsome." More than that,
Therese was wonderfully well preserved, and did not
disdain the use of cosmetics. She looked extremely
THE GOAL ATTAINED. 181
well, her tall, dignified form, with a stately carriage that
she had lately adopted, was quite in keeping with her lux-
urious surroundings, and she filled her post naturally at
the head of an aristocratic menage.
Unfortunately, she could not carry out her views as
she would have liked, because Gravensund by no means
kept open house. Large parties, with music, cards,
and dancing, were of course out of the question, and
all that she could arrange were formal dinners, such
as are a specialty in Hamburg. There was a solemn
grandeur about them perfectly in keeping with the grave
character of the Gravensund household.
On these occasions Therese played the part of mis-
tress of the mansion with the same skill and dexterity
that characterized her in all that she undertook. The
guests could do no less than meet her upon the ground
that she occupied with such discretion and tact, ex-
cept in one respect: when they returned the hospitality
extended to them, Therese was never included in their
invitations. But she did not aspire to such honours,
and even had the delicacy, when some kindly soul mut-
tered something about hoping to have th^ pleasure, .of
seeing Friiulein Jiiger at her house, to decline the invita-
tion courteously but decidedly. She thus avoided all
appearance of laying any claim to what the arrogance
of Herr Gravensuud's guests were indisposed to grant.
They were perfectly ready to treat her with becoming
politeness as their hostess, but to admit to their houses
an individual who, whatever were the graces of her mind
and person, was, after all, only a hired housekeeper, was
surely more than could be expected of people rolling in mil-
lions at present, however those millions had been acquired,
whether in the tobacco- or toy-trade. In this respect, such
a commercial city as Hamburg is remarkably free from
16
182 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
prejudice. Neither ancestry nor culture is requisite,
only money.
Netta was gone ; and when the time of her departure
arrived, Gravensund could not find it in his heart to let
her go without exacting a promise that she would return
for a visit at Christmas. It was joyfully given, for Netta
w r as far from feeling any resentment towards her foster-
father ; on the contrary, she pitied him for yielding to
the mysterious influence that threatened to rob his life of
all independence of thought and action.
After Netta had left, Therese grew very thoughtful
and quiet ; she seemed absent-minded, restless, and some-
times sad. Gravensund repeatedly inquired if anything
were the matter with her, but received only evasive an-
swers. One evening after tea she was sitting quietly by
the window, when she sighed several times profoundly.
Anna had retired to her room, and Willy too grew tired
and said " Good-night," for it was past ten o'clock.
" Therese," Herr Gravensund began, " there is another
long-drawn sigh, and yet you say nothing is the matter
with you."
" No," she replied, passing her white and shapely hand
across her eyes ; " nothing is the matter with me : I was
only thinking."
" You seem to me to spend much of your time in
' thinking,' as you call it. It must be something of mo-
ment that occupies your mind."
" It is of moment ; but "
" Of course I would not intrude upon your confidence,"
Gravensund said, as she hesitated ; " I assure you I only
asked from the purest sympathy."
" Ah, you are so kind, it weighs me down, and there
is really no confidence to give "
"Yet you speak in riddles."
THE GOAL ATTAINED. 183
" It is so hard to tell you, and yet I must "
Still she hesitated, and Gravensund became all atten-
tion.
" It concerns you, too, Herr Gravensund," she said.
" Me, too ? Then I have a right to be curious."
" That is, not directly ; but I know, I hope no, no ! I
cannot tell you." And Therese covered her face with her
hands like a shy girl.
" Good heavens ! you really distress me. Dear Frau-
lein Jiiger, is it so painful ?"
" No, not for you ; but for me. I must and will
speak it is my duty. Let me be as brief as possible."
After another pause, and another profound sigh, she
began again :
" Twelve years ago when I first came to your house I
was betrothed, but my lover I will call him lleinhard
was as poor as myself. He saw no hope of earning
a modest competency in Europe, and after many an
agonizing struggle we resolved to part. Reinhard went
to America to seek his fortune, promising to let me hear
from him as soon as he was able to offer me a position
there worthy of me, as he expressed it. Years rolled on ;
I waited and hoped in vain : no letter arrived. At first
his silence cost me many a tear, but at last I ceased to
hope and watch, for I was happy here, and if ever I
thought of lleinhard I thought of him as dead to me.
Some days ago I received this letter." And with a fresh
burst of tears Therese drew it from her pocket and held
it in her hand.
"A letter from America?" cried Gravensund, greatly
surprised.
" A letter from lleinhard," Therese replied, sobbing.
" And what what does he say ?"
" Oh, that is what distresses me so."
184 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
"Has he been unfortunate, do you say he has been
unfortunate ?" asked Gravensund with egotistical naivete.
"Oh, no; on the contrary "
" I pray you tell me, then, what he does say."
" He has, after various trials, and years of close appli-
cation to business, made an immense fortune in Cali-
fornia. And now that he is free to make his home where
he will, and can live in princely style, he writes writes
to remind me of my promise, and to tell me that he will
come for me if I have not forgotten him, or pledged my-
self to another."
"But Therese no this cannot be!" cried Graven-
sund, running his fingers through his hair in desperation,
and feeling as if a blow had been struck at the very
foundations of his house.
" He says," Therese continued, "that he will live where
I please : in Paris, in Rome, in New York, or here in
my own country ; and he paints a future for me full of
worldly enjoyment. And yet yet 'tis hard to go."
" Oh, Therese, dearest Therese, what shall I do with-
out you ? I shall be utterly forlorn. Netta has forsaken
me, Willy is going to leave home, and my poor Anna,
what will become of me ?"
" Indeed, indeed, Herr Gravensund, I feel all that
you say. Yet think of my promise, what else can
I do?"
Gravensund arose and walked hastily to and fro.
"I never thought," he exclaimed, "that you would
leave me ; but even I must admit that this brilliant
prospect "
" Oh, no, Herr Gravensund," Therese interrupted him,
"do not think so meanly of me. The brilliant prospect
has no charms for me."
" Do you still love this man ?"
THE GOAL ATTAINED. 185
" Love ? No, I love him no longer ; I had almost for-
gotten him."
" Good heavens ! How, then, can you marry him ?"
"My promise, my promise still seems to me binding,
and then, besides, Herr Gravensund," said Therese,
with renewed hesitation, " in spite of all your kindness I
am still only a poor servant in your house. Do I not
owe it to myself to weigh the matter well ? I might
be the wife of a man who has at least held me in faith-
ful remembrance, while my position here I fear the
world looks askance at it sometimes." And she cast
down her eyes, and crumpled the letter in her hands.
If lightning had flashed out of clear skies above Gra-
vensund's head, it could not have astonished him more
than did this hint from Therese. He had never dreamed
of such a thing.
He stood still, suppressing an exclamation of surprise,
and looked at Therese as if he saw her now for the first
time. The pink shade on the lighted lamp lent a delicate
roseate hue to her otherwise colourless complexion, and
as she sat resting her head upon her white hand, her
hanging sleeve fell back disclosing an arm so round and
shapely that it might have been a model for a sculptor.
Her dress of transparent gray material was worn close to
the throat, it is true, but there was a gleam of white
shoulders through it ; and, in short, all at once Herr
Graveusund how he did not exactly comprehend
made the discovery that he had been entirely blind
to the fact that his housekeeper was really a beautiful
woman.
He did not know what to say at the moment, so he
began to walk to and fro again, observing Therese atten-
tively the while.
" Therese," he said at last, resting his hand lightly
16*
186 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
upon her shoulder, " do you really mean that it could
damage your reputation to remain longer in my house ?"
" Oh, my dear Herr Gravensund, I am above caring
for that, and so, doubtless, are you. I should be entirely
content to remain here always, I love you all all so
dearly. I have been so happy here."
" Then all is well, remain, remain !" And Gravensund
held out his hand, which, however, Therese did not
take.
" But my future," said she, " I must think of my
future."
" Leave all care for that to me, dearest Therese ; do
not go if your heart does not draw you hence."
" No, no, not my heart, and not the promise of worldly
enjoyment, but my promise."
" How can a promise be valid after so many years of
separation, during which you have interchanged no word
of remembrance ?"
" 'Tis true the terms of the promise were in the event
of our both remaining free. Reinhard remembers this,
and claims me only if I am unmarried and not pledged
elsewhere."
" If you were married, then, dear Therese, you would
naturally have nothing to reproach yourself with ; or if
you were betrothed to another," Gravensund said quickly,
although with some hesitation, "you would be bound by
no tie to your former lover, but be entirely free."
" Yes," Therese assented ; and for the first time the
large gray eyes looked up at him from beneath their long
lashes with an expression that it were vain to attempt
to describe.
"Therese," said Gravensund, taking her willing hand,
" you have long been the mother of my children, the mis-
tress of my house, in all save the name alone, and the
A CRAFT BEYOND PRIESTCRAFT. 187
name, with all that I call my own, I now lay at your
feet. I cannot offer you the princely fortune of your
former lover, but you know that my social position is not
to be despised, and I can at least pray you to accept a
faithful heart, throbbing with the truest esteem and affec-
tion for you."
" Now, now I know," cried Therese, bending above the
hand that clasped her own, "how truly your image, and
yours alone, has long filled my heart I"
" Then you are mine," cried Gravensund, embracing
her tenderly, " my dearest, loveliest Therese I"
" My own Wilhelm 1" Therese responded in melting
tones.
" Precious words ! Is it not strange that for so many
years we should have overlooked the happiness upon the
threshold of which we have been so long standing?"
CHAPTER XVIII.
A CRAFT BEYOND PRIESTCRAFT.
IT must be a very strange sensation, the retiring to
rest a betrothed mdn, when there had been no idea of
any such termination to the day, twelve hours before.
And yet in spite of his surprise, Herr Gravensund was
very well content. How could he have acted otherwise ?
It is true that he had not been prompted by passionate
love, but then such a passion did not become his years
or his estate as a widower. He had averted the rad-
ical and distressing change in his domestic existence,
which would doubtless have ensued upon Therese's
188 TF77F DID HE NOT DIE?
departure, and had secured the comfort and repose of
his future years. How strange that it should never have
occurred to him before I His relations with Tberese must,
of course, have seemed ambiguous, he ought to have
thought of that. Dear, good creature 1 Heaven only
knows what people might have been saying ! It was no
more than his plain duty to offer her the protection of
his name. And what a handsome, stately woman she
was ! She should not always wear gray in future. No,
the habit of a sister of charity was hardly becoming the
wife of Wilhelm Gravensund. The next day he would
buy her a costly India shawl to wrap around those beau-
tiful shoulders, and a gorgeous silk dress, that would
be a suitable costume for the round of visits that custom
demanded they should make together as a betrothed pair.
How surprised people would be ! And yet perhaps not,
after all, one never knows what gossip is rife among
one's friends. At all events, he would be married as soon
as possible, Therese would see the wisdom of that. Per-
haps that California nabob might take it into his head
to follow his letter and present himself in Hamburg in
person. If Therese were only Madame Gravensund, he
might come whenever he pleased. And what a delight,
what a joy, it would be to have such a devoted wife 1 In
spite of Therese's care and attention he had often been
very lonely, surely his beloved Emma would look down
in blessing upon his new choice. He cast no disrespect
upon her memory, for she would always reign in his
heart as his purest, his only true love I He had forgotten
poor, faithful Marie.
Therese was triumphant.
"At last!" she cried, locking the door of her room
as she entered it long after midnight, and throwing
A CRAFT BEYOND PRIESTCRAFT. 189
herself into an arm-chair, from which she arose hastily
the next moment in a state of exultant and ungovernable
agitation.
"At last the die is cast, at last I am mistress here,
everything is my own I" And she looked around her
with glances that seemed to pierce the walls of her room
and devour all the magnificence of the house. " Oh,
Pastor Siegfried, devout churchman, I have circum-
vented you at last, I, your humble instrument ! You
fondly imagined that I was always striving for the glory
of the church, or rather for your own aggrandizement.
What! dissemble and pretend, and practise self-abnega-
tion and humility day after day, year after year, only that
I might retain your gracious favour ? No ! no ! Now it
is my turn. You shall feel the humiliation to which you
have so often subjected me, miserable priest ! Wait !
you shall be the first to learn the joyful intelligence !"
And she drew her writing-desk towards her, and
hastily wrote a few lines, summoning Siegfried to the
house the next morning. Then she remembered the letter
which had done her such good service in the part she
had just played.
" You have done your duty well," she apostrophized it,
as she held it in the flame of the candle, and reduced it to
ashes. " Once married, my life is secure, indeed. My
tender lover, he actually grew more impassioned than I
hud dreamed he could be. Your saints never quite die to
earthly joys, I find. My Wilhelm, it will be the least of
my cares to rule him at my pleasure : he has long obeyed
my slightest hint without being in the least aware of it.
It is well that Willy is just about to leave home. Grown-
up children are always in a stepmother's way. And
Anna ? She may last a few years longer, but she is very
frail. Hm ! I should not refuse to be comforted in such
190 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
a case, for it can hardly be desirable that I should
sacrifice my own health at her bedside. I have little
more time to spend in this prison," she continued, looking
scornfully around her at the comfortable but plain furni-
ture of her room. " I am mistress of the whole house,"
she repeated, glancing out of the window as if to survey
her domain by moonlight, the courtyard, the garden,
the stables and carriage-house, and then giving her
thoughts to dress and the adornment of her comely
person.
"Now I shall dress as a lady should. It is my turn
to play grande dame, and either accept the invitations of
my distinguished guests or coldly reject them. Aha !
Therese Jager might be overlooked. Therese Gravensund
is an entirely different person. Fools ! how plainly I see
through them!"
Early the next morning Pastor Siegfried received
Therese's note, and as she never summoned him upon
unimportant occasions, the worthy man found time amid
his various engagements to comply with her request.
When he was shown into the sitting-room, Gravensund
and Therese were both there, the latter had a book in her
hand, and seemed to have been reading aloud.
"Ah, my dear Herr Pastor," said Gravensund, rising,
"I am so glad to see you. We have a piece of intelli-
gence to communicate to you, as the nearest and dearest
of our friends."
" I am curious, indeed," replied Siegfried, rather per-
plexed by seeing that the matter in hand concerned
Gravensund also, when he had supposed that it would
relate to Therese alone.
She had dropped the book in her lap, clasped her hands
upon it, and was leaning back in her chair with an air of
A CRAFT BEYOND PRIESTCRAFT. 191
perfect composure. Her eyes were cast down. She
could not else have concealed the triumph sparkling in
them.
"A piece of rare good fortune has befallen me, a
blessing has been showered upon my house," said
Gravensuud, with a face that actually beamed with
delight.
"Good fortune? A blessing? Is it an earthly or a
divine gift to which you allude ?"
" Both 1 both ! Yet, no ; I must call it an earthly
happiness."
" Have they made you Burgomaster of Hamburg ?"
" Oh, no, no, you are wide of the mark."
" Or has the King of Prussia sent you the order you
desired ?"
" No, no !"
" Have you drawn the great prize in the lottery ? But
what could you do with it, you do not need it?"
" And yet it is a great prize !" Gravensund replied.
" Yes, yes, Herr Pastor, I have indeed won a great prize.
Can you not guess what it is ?"
A faint glimmering of light began to dawn upon the
Pastor's mind ; for whenever there is talk of winning a
grcat^ prize, and money is out of the question, there is
sure to be a wife in the case. The expression of his face
became a painful study ; he tried hard to make it sym-
pathetic, yet could not conceal his rage at the suspicion
of what had occurred.
" Is it possible, my dear friend ? Can you have
made up your mind " he stammered, and then made
a sudden pause, for, as he glanced towards Therese, there
was no mistaking the malicious smile that hovered upon
her lips ; a smile that he could not understand, for surely
Gravensund's marriage would be a most undesirable event
192 WHY DID HE NOT NOT DIE 9
as far as she was concerned. What could it all mean ?
He was completely at fault.
" Yes, yes, I have made up my mind," said Graven-
suud, with the happiest face in the world. " Look at
me ; do I not look like a happy lover ?"
The Pastor started to his feet. An ungodly exclama-
tion, amazingly like "The devil!" escaped his lips, but
was instantly followed by "God forgive me! The
surprise, the shock, my dearest, dearest Gravensund ! I
can hardly collect myself." And he shook hands tenderly
with his friend, and even imprinted a Judas kiss upon his
cheek.
" I congratulate you from the very bottom of my soul.
Who is your happy choice ? Tell me, that I may offer
her my fraternal good wishes. She must be my sister in
the Lord."
" She is, indeed, my household's chiefest treasure."
And Gravensuud held out his hand to Therese, who
arose, and, leaning her head upon his shoulder, for the
first time looked the Pastor full in the face. " Therese
promised yesterday to be my wife."
It was too much. Siegfried stood for one instant like
a statue, then seized his hat, and, without a word,
rushed out of the house.
Gravensund watched his hasty departure in utter
amazement, and would have called him back, but Therese
prevented him.
" Let him go," she said with a slight smile, " he
needs time to compose himself. He will return."
" But, good heavens, I can't understand this at all !
What does it mean ? Can you explain it ?"
Therese smiled shyly, and looked down. " I think I
I can," she said.
"Well?"
A CRAFT BEYOND PRIESTCRAFT. 193
" Surely I am right now in concealing nothing from
you. Long ago he addressed me himself. <He wished
he thought it was some years since, and I believed he
had entirely overcome every sentiment of the kind, or I
would have spared him this shock."
" Aha ! indeed, Herr Pastor 1" cried Gravensund with
no sympathy, but a vast deal of triumph in his tone as
he encircled Therese's waist with his arm, and, looking
into her eyes, added, "Therese, what an enchantress
you are ! I never could have believed that man capable of
any sentiment more tender than fraternal affection. I am
indeed blest. My dearest, you shall never have cause
to regret the step you have taken."
"I am sure of that," replied Therese with emphasis.
" Really I am very sorry for the poor man," Gravensund
continued, " very sorry, indeed, it will be quite painful
to see him again."
" I think I had better receive him alone," replied The-
rese, "that is, if he should return. I am sure he will
then find it easier to become accustomed to seeing us
together. Perhaps he may wish to allude to the past."
" Hm receive him alone ? But " And a shade
of displeasure clouded Gravensund's brow.
" Dear love, you could not " Therese began in a
tone of tender reproach, laying her hand lightly upon his
shoulder.
" Forgive me, you are right," he replied. " Do as you
think best, you are mine, and I trust you entirely. But
is not that he coming towards the house ?" he added,
happening to glance out of the window at the moment.
" Yes, that is his ring."
" Then, dearest Wilhelm, do go ! No, no, not into that
room, but into the garden," she added as Gravensund
was about to betake himself to the adjoinifig apartment.
17
194 WHY DID UE NOT DIE?
" It might embarrass him to know that you were, per-
haps, overhearing our conversation, or were liable to enter
this room at any moment."
"As you please. But, dearest Therese, while you
spare his feelings, make his position in this house as
clear as possible."
" Rely upon my doing all that you could desire."
Gravensund slipped out just in time to avoid a meeting
with Siegfried, who knocked, and, upon Therese's gentle
" Come in," entered the room.
He had not gone a hundred steps from the house be-
fore he saw clearly what a blunder he had made. He
slackened his pace. What was to be done ? How could
he account for his conduct ? Or must he be debarred
from ever going to the house in future? Impossible!
He must return instantly. What to say he did not know ;
he would take a jocose view of his behaviour and lament
his own folly in being so overcome by surprise. What
Gravensund might think, and what explanation Therese
might find it necessary to give her betrothed, he had no
time to consider; the sooner he got through the next half-
hour the better.
Accordingly as he entered, he put on as cheerful an
air as possible and began, " Here comes the runaway !"
before he saw that Therese was alone.
" Where is Herr Gravensund ?"
" In the garden. Pray sit down, Herr Pastor."
He declined the gracious invitation to rest in a luxu-
rious corner of the lounge, for rage suddenly mastered
him again, and, hardly suppressing his fury, he walked
up to Therese and hissed in her ear,
" Serpent ! fiend ! you have grossly deceived me !"
" 1 cannot have heard you aright, Herr Pastor." And
Therese's eyes sparkled as she smiled haughtily.
A CRAFT BEYOND PRIESTCRAFT. 195
" Canaille !" he muttered, walking hurriedly to and fro
in impotent wrath.
" Pardon me," said Therese, " I had much better send
for Herr Gravensund." And she moved towards the
bell-rope.
" Stay !" cried Siegfried, seizing her arm. " What
have I to do with this wretched puppet of yours ?"
" You forget, sir," she replied, "that you are address-
ing the betrothed of the man whom you insult."
" Betrothed ! Aha ! it sounds well. But what," he
said, suddenly turning full upon her, " what if I do not
choose that this marriage should take place ?"
" You are powerless to prevent it."
"Powerless? Oho, my angel! I have only to tell
him " And leaning forward, with a fiendish smile,
he whispered a few words in her ear.
" Wretch ! You would not dare I" she answered, pale
with anger. " You would not dare you cannot, without
bringing ruin upon yourself also ! And what of Richard
Kurten, too ? Why was that boy banished from this
house? Whose plan was that? Who sent him to the
House of Correction ? Answer me !"
Siegfried did not immediately reply. He bit his lips
as he remembered how seldom he dared to refer to this
subject, even in his thoughts. Although Therese was
not cognizant of the part he had played in the affair
of Richard Kurten, she knew how any reference to it
annoyed him, and she saw that her arrow had struck
home.
He continued to pace the apartment, evidently endeav-
ouring to master his anger. He knew only too well
how unwise it would be, both for the sake of the past
and of the future, to make an enemy of Therese.
" Therese, you are the cleverest woman in the world,"
196 WET DID HE NOT DIE?
he said suddenly, as if the acknowledgment were forced
from him against his will.
" What were you pleased to observe, Herr Siegfried ?"
" Just as you choose," said he, smiling grimly. " What
difference can it make ? Let me, Fraulein Jager, express
my admiration of your cleverness, my fervent admiration.
I really ought to hate you, for you have shamefully
overreached me, but I cannot avoid admiring you."
And he bowed slightly. He did not venture to look at
Therese, for his eyes expressed anything rather than ad-
miration, and Therese knew him far too well to be for
one instant deceived. What he really thought was a
matter of supreme indifference to her; all that she wanted
from him was the semblance of deference which she per-
ceived he was now making up his mind to assume. She
had need of this man : assured as her position seemed,
she could not afford to make an enemy of him.
" And I, sir," she replied, " acknowledge the honour
that you do me in making this admission."
" How you have compassed your ends, by what long
and tortuous paths you have attained the goal of your
ambition, I need hardly ask, I presume ?" said Siegfried
in a tone of inquiry.
" I have won Herr Gravensund's affection," Therese
replied calmly.
"Indeed! his affection? How truly edifying!"
sneered Siegfried, falling back into his former manner.
Therese shot at him a haughty glance of menace, " You
seem astonished ?"
" I ? Oh, not at all, not at all. Nothing that you
do can astonish me ; I rejoice ir your good fortune, I as-
sure you. You can easily understand the shock that I
experienced at first, for, I confess, I had hoped to appro-
priate a part of these millions to the holy cause of the
A CRAFT BEYOND PRIESTCRAFT. 197
church. Since this, however, is no longer possible, whom
could I desire to endow with earthly mammon rather
than yourself, Therese ? Far, far better to have it fall
into your hands than be lavished, as it might have been,
among scoffers and scorners. Now I may confidently
hope that this house will remain what it has always
proved, a prop and stay of the church."
A scarcely perceptible smile hovered around Therese's
mouth.
" You smile ? But, Therese, you must admit that I
have always preserved a fraternal interest in you, and that
your happiness has been one of my chief cares. I was the
means of bringing you to this house where you oc-
cupy so brilliant a position." Therese shot one lightning
glance at him. "My part as your patron is at an
end, I see that perfectly ; but I place reliance upon your
gratitude, and trust that, mindful of my care of you
while you were a subordinate, you will not forget my
claims now that your position is assured."
Thus the haughty priest humbled himself before her,
and Therese revelled in the triumph of the moment.
Long, long years before, when the hawthorn and jas-
mine were blossoming in her father's garden, he had
wooed and won her young heart, she a girl in the first
bloom of her maidenhood, the daughter of a schoolmaster,
and he a candidate for the ministry, tutor in a noble fam-
ily in Mecklenburg. The result of his wooing had been
to launch her in that life of infamy in which a step is so
seldom retraced, and which almost always ends in utter
ruin. But Therese was no ordinary woman : her intellect
was stronger than her passions. She resolved never to
perish miserably on the highway or in the hospital of
some large city. She fled from her father's house in
Schwerin and betook herself to Hamburg, where she was
11*
198 WHY DID TIE NOT DIE?
utterly unknown, and where, battling with poverty in
its most wretched guise, she contrived to maintain
her independence by the labour of her hands, until
Siegfried procured her the post of housekeeper in the
house of which she was so shortly to be the mistress.
Her youth had been destroyed, her memory sullied ; she
could hardly say that she had ever been artless and
innocent ; her father's gray hairs had gone in sorrow to
the grave ; she had never dared to revisit her childhood's
home ; and the man now standing before her had been the
cause of all. In rapid review she summoned before her
mental vision every event, every experience of her life,
and of each he made a leading part. At this very moment
she could not rid herself of him, because her past was
known to him. He was humbled, he was conquered, she
might place her foot upon his neck, but she could not
sweep him from her path. Their positions were reversed,
that must suffice her, the endurance of her triumph
must atone for its want of completeness.
" I shall always befriend you, Herr Pastor," she said,
toying with the heavy fringe of the table-cover as though
they were discussing a matter of no importance.
" I am sure you will," Siegfried replied. "We cannot
spare each other ; it is much better to live in amity than
in enmity. In token of our renewed friendship, Therese,
give me your hand."
" What folly 1" she said contemptuously. " There is
surely no call for such formalities between us." And rising,
she passed him by without heeding his extended hand,
and pulled the bell-rope. She directed the servant, who
instantly appeared, to inform Herr Gravensuud of Pastor
Siegfried's presence."
" Good heavens I How shall I explain my sudden
departure ?" the Pastor exclaimed.
A CRAFT BEYOND PRIESTCRAFT. 199
11 You must extricate yourself from that perplexity as
best you may," said Therese, shrugging her shoulders.
" What did you say to him ?"
" I ? Oh, nothing. I said nothing, only looked sur-
prised and laughed."
"And I suppose he laughed too, and thought very
little about it? So much the better."
"Gravensund is such an unsuspicious creature," said
Therese, with a touch of tenderness.
Siegfried looked at her interrogatively, but suppressed
the sneer upon his lips, for Gravensund entered.
" Here you are again !" he cried good-humouredly, de-
termined to help the Pastor out of his embarrassment.
" Here you are again ! It must be a surprise indeed
that sends one's friends flying out of the house after such
a fashion, hey, Herr Pastor ?"
" Yes, indeed ! I was astonished. But I have come to
myself again, and in the name o the Lord, my dearest
Graveusuud, I congratulate you with all my heart. You
could not have done better. It stands written, and I
can confirm it from my own experience, it is not good
for man to be alone."
" Thank you, thank you," replied Gravensund with
a beaming countenance. " You are the first to congratu-
late us, and I accept it for a sign that you will remain,
as you have ever been, the first and most valued of our
friends."
Out of consideration for the feelings of his betrothed's
rejected suitor, Gravensund then led the conversation to
other topics, and as the Pastor naturally seconded his
efforts, an hour or two were spent in a seeming harmony
and content that was far from genuine.
Four weeks later Therese Jtiger became Tberese Gra-
vensund, Madame Gravensund, as she was called in
200 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
Hamburg. The customary visits were made, and no one
denied Therese the homage which was hers of right as
the wife of one of the wealthiest citizens of Hamburg.
She had entirely cast her old slough.
As for Gravensund's children, they conducted them-
selves as Therese had foreseen that they would. Anna's
first sensations upon hearing of the proposed marriage
were by no means joyful ; but with the gentleness and
docility natural to her, she crushed all unkind thoughts
of Therese that suggested themselves to her mind, and
comforted herself with the reflection that the household
was not seriously affected by the change everything
went on much the same as usual, except that she was
required to call Therese "mamma," and a few weeks
sufficed to reconcile her to that.
Willy, on the contrary, showed himself excessively re-
bellious, although Therese contemplated winning him
over to her side by all sorts of excuses for his escapades
and boyish pranks, by secretly supplying him with money,
and by speaking a word in his favour when amusements
were in question which Gravensund hardly thought be-
coming.
"But," he remarked confidentially to Anna, " I cannot
see why the old gray cat" this expression he had learned
from Netta "should marry my father. Why, do you
know, Anna, that she will have to inherit with us, and we
shall have just so much less?"
" Oh, Willy, Willy, how can you talk so ? Who thinks
of inheriting? Our father must die before that time
comes."
" Well, talking and thinking of it won't kill him ; and
I can tell you, I don't relish the idea of giving up a third
of our inheritance to a stranger."
" Stranger ! you'd better not let our father or Therese
A CRAFT BEYOND PRIESTCRAFT. 201
hear you ! And she is not a stranger, for she has brought
us all up, and would always have lived here at all
events."
" She might have done that, and welcome, for all I care,
if it had not been for the money."
" I don't care in the least for the money."
" But I do. You don't understand it. Girls never
understand anything of accounts. I should like to have
lots of money, for when I'm an officer I intend to live
like a gentleman and not like a vagabond."
" Of course you will do that."
" Hm, I don't know, papa is very cranky sometimes.
I shall have to keep straight, after all, with the old gray
cat ; she knows ever so much better than papa what a
fellow ought to have. Papa is so prejudiced."
" Oh, Willy, don't talk so, I can't bear it. Papa is so
very, very kind."
" Oh, you think that of everybody ; that's because you
know nothing of the world." And Master Willy turned
away and drummed a march on the window-pane, while
Anna regarded him dubiously, reflecting that she had
certainly never thought that of Willy himself, who was
apt to say such dreadful things. However, she would
pray earnestly for him, and he would surely improve.
202 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
CHAPTER XIX.
AN OLD COUPLE.
SOON after Richard's flight, the old house in which the
Kurtens had lived was torn down. The entire street was
purchased by a speculator, who erected a stately edifice
upon the spot where the letter-carrier's modest abode had
stood. Pastor Siegfried took to himself the credit of
having first called the attention of the moneyed man to
the worth of this particular street, for although it seemed
narrow and confined, the outlook over Herr Gravensund's
courtyard and garden was very desirable. Gravensund
had at first contested with the new purchaser the pos-
session of property so near his own ; but he soon vacated
the field in his favour, for he had long cherished the
intention of building a country-seat for himself beyond
the limits of the city, in which case any enlargement of
the grounds of his town-house would be entirely un-
necessary.
Frau Kurten had bewailed and lamented the obligation
to leave their comfortable little dwelling, but to the letter-
carrier himself it made no difference where he lived if his
residence were not too far removed from his city rounds.
He was scarcely ever at home in the daytime.
" Oh, yes, it is of no consequence to you," said his
wife, "and you never think of me. What comfort have
I in life except in my comfortable rooms, where I stay
all the time ? I scarcely ever go out, except to the
grocer's or to market."
" Then, what in the world did you buy that pile of
stuff with purple ribbons for ?"
AN OLD COUPLE. 203
" My new bonnet ? Do you suppose I am going to
church without a bonnet ? What can you mean ?"
" Oh, nothing, nothing, except that no one wears a
bonnet unless she goes out. You bought a bonnet, and
I suppose you put it on for something else except to show
it to the grocer."
" You don't understand, Kurten. Every decent woman
must have a new bonnet once a year ; but it is perfectly
true, all the same, that I am always shut up at home,
you will hardly take going to church into account."
" Nonsense !" rejoined Kurten irritably. " I don't take
anything into account, not even the twelve marks, eight
shillings that I had to pay for the bonnet; but you
women are such fools ! You ought to be thankful that
you can stay at home, and only stir your legs now and
then for your own amusement. How would you like to
run hither and thither through the streets, day in, day
out, in storm and sunshine, heat and cold, dust and snow ?
It's all the same ; nothing hinders people from writing
letters, and the postmaster never asks, ' Kurten, are you
tired ? Do your old bones ache ?' Never a word! And
the cursed stairs. They build every new house four stories
high just to spite me. This city is a perfect Babylon of
high towers. And the people who live highest up always
have the most letters. If my pouch is full, one or two
dozen are sure to be addressed to third or fourth stories.
Just reckon that up, will" you ? Without taking into
account the second and third stories, and the long streets !
I should not mind the streets if it were not for the stairs."
Frau Kurten was silenced for awhile ; she had no-
thing to reply to this tirade, she could not exactly de-
termine whether she did not magnify her husband's trials
in his own estimation by sympathizing with him, and
she dared not gainsay him, for that made him furiously
204 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
angry, and he was apt to express himself towards her in
a way that greatly shocked her sensibilities.
" Shall I not get you a half-bottle of red wine ?" she
asked after a pause, during which Kurten sat gloomily
puffing forth huge clouds of smoke.
" No, thank you. Nonsense, wine after my coffee !
I have no more time, 1 must go," he added, looking at
his old silver watch ; and, propping his hands upon the
arms of his chair, he rose slowly, stretched himself as if
attempting to infuse fresh elasticity into his limbs, put on
his cap, and, with a short " Good-by, wife," was gone.
His wife looked after him thoughtfully. Yes, Kurten
was growing old and stiff, he had complained more
and more of late. In former days he had been fond
of his daily occupation, had never been weary of ex-
tolling it, of saying how healthy such continuous exer-
cise was for mind and body. But then he had been stout
and strong. Nothing ailed him now, to be sure, except
the growing ailment of old age. Kurten had grown old.
" How slowly he walks !" she said to herself. " He will
have to resign his post before long. What will become
of us ? I shall be wretched, for if he sits all day long
here in his arm-chair Good gracious, there is no-
thing harder to bear than a husband with nothing to
do always at home ! And how I shall have to pinch !
We've saved little enough, and his pension would hardly
do more than keep us from starvation. What a prospect
for my old age !" she added, going for the broom to sweep
up the floor, although not a crumb had fallen upon it.
And then she sat down with a basketful of woollen socks
to mend for her husband, and pursued her reflections.
When she came to think of it, it was perhaps best
that they should move. Twenty-five marks a year might
be saved if they were willing to resign some small ad-
AN OLD COLPLd. 205
vantages, such as are sure to cost money in a large city.
Here, for example, was the prospect over the Graven-
sund garden, and the little dark closet where Richard
used to sleep, which she had since used as a con-
venient place for storing wood and coal.
As she thought of it she was reminded of Richard.
If she had only had the comfort in the boy that she had
once looked forward to, he would have been a real assist-
ance to her by this time. He might have learned some
useful trade that would have insured him a support, and
left him something besides with which to show his grati-
tude to those who had befriended him. But instead of
this Frau Kurten had often and often regretted
the tenderness of heart that had taken her to the
Ebraergang; for what had come of it except care, anxiety,
and disgrace ? Richard had turned out a wilful, vicious
boy, and, although his foster-parents had explained to
every one whom they knew that he was not their own
son, but the child of a distant relative who was dead,
and that they had taken him out of pure charity, yet
the boy who ran away from the House of Correction
bore the name of Kurten, and carried that name out into
the world with him. Frau Kurten's fancy rioted in
frightful imaginings as to the unheard-of disgrace and
shame that might one day be heaped upon her honest name.
She really hoped never to hear tale or tidings of the un-
grateful boy. It did not occur to her to think that
he might perhaps return and be a credit to her, having
achieved an independence by his own exertions. No
genuine motherly love had assisted her to understand
the boy's nature, she had wept no tears of motherly
anguish over the runaway, and she utterly lacked that
trust in the boy's better nature which is native and
ever-enduring in a mother's heart. She pictured his
18
206 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
career to herself only by the light of her own injured
self-love.
Richard had probably died long since. Years had
elapsed since his disappearance, and no whisper had been
received from him. Traces of him were supposed to have
been discovered at first in Holstein, but they were soon
lost in the Danish possessions, and the Kurtens could
only vaguely suppose that the boy had found his way to
some seaport town where he could gratify his long-cher-
ished predilection for a seafaring life.
And certainly since there are no longer any vast for-
ests in Germany where it is possible to play the romantic
bandit, and as the locomotive of to-day cannot be held in
check by a daring highwayman as could the post-horses
of former times, there is really no career open to an
adventurous boy except upon the sea, especially if this
same boy has passed all the years of his life in such a
city as Hamburg, where countenances of every shade of
colour from all the zones of the earth are familiar to his
eyes in his daily strolls upon the wharves, where the
antipodes seem brought to his very door by the giant
three-masters that have just returned thence, where the
steamers are taking a short rest after their trips around
the world, and where people talk of a voyage to Brazil
as of a common everyday affair. A sailor's life is pecu-
liarly fascinating to a child of the people, because he
knows what it may lead to, that he may rise in life by it.
The beginning at the lowest round of the ladder without
the tedious drilling, the soul-killing routine of a military
life, the degree of freedom belonging to the sailor, the
conflict with the elements, and the frequent mastery of
their giant forces, are inexpressibly attractive to an im-
aginative boy, and through it all he is conscious that the
last may become the first, the meanest cabin-boy may one
AN OLD COUPLE. 207
day command the vessel upon which he makes his first
voyage. He may give loose rein to his ambition ; patron-
age and noble birth weigh for nothing upon the deck of
a ship, there he who can is king ; and thus, in spite of
the strict discipline preserved, there is something de-
cidedly republican in a sailor's life.
But many an enthusiastic youth, who hoists the flag
of hope manfully upon his first voyage, falls a prey to flood
or tempest, or is a victim to insidious pestilence upon
foreign shores ; and those dear to him never learn, perhaps,
whether he has found a grave in the jaws of a shark
or upon the low-lying coast of some tropical country.
They wait and hope until at last they number him among
the dead, and are only reminded of him when the story
goes round of some long-forgotten relative who has reap-
peared, in the guise of a fabulously wealthy brother or
uncle, to the delight of all his family; or may be as some
poor, broken-down old man, only asking for a place beside
the family- hearth for a few years, and then for a corner
in the graveyard.
Frau Kurten usually regarded Richard as dead. She
had not mourned for him as for the child of her affections;
and although she had wished him well, she could not
help thinking in the bottom of her heart that a taste of
misfortune might teach him to value the privileges he had
enjoyed at home, and perhaps 'send him back humbled
and grateful. Had she ever really hoped he would return ?
I think not. She was relieved of all responsibility and of
some labour, and was able to save a little money in conse-
quence of his escape from the House of Correction. It
had been vexatious at the time, but such things are
soon forgotten in a great city ; and if he had suddenly
reappeared, who can tell what he might have turned
out ? At all events, she would have boen obliged to re-
208 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
ceive him again, a vagabond, an adventurer, who had
been living Heaven only knew how for weeks and even
months. No, no ; it was far better that he should not
return. Thus Frau Kurten had always formerly decided
when musing upon the lost boy.
After the lapse of years, when Richard, if still alive,
must be a man, and when it would have been his part
to contribute to her support, she viewed the case a little
differently. But if she had feared his return at first, she
could not hope for it then, he must certainly be dead.
The Kurtens removed from their old house, at the
back of Gravensund's mansion, into a somewhat cheaper
abode, up two flights of stairs in a back building. Here
Frau Kurten could, to be sure, look out upon a small
garden, but it was a melancholy prospect. The bit of
ground was walled in on all sides by houses four and five
stories high ; and even when the sun was at its highest,
no ray illumined the dreary spot where nothing but
grass and weeds flourished, where the flowers that were
set out every spring languished and died, and where the
trellised arbour that had been erected for a summer-house
was but scantily covered by the vine planted as a pro-
tection from a sun that never shone there.
But in the sunlight upon Frau Kurten's window-
sill, she had planted a little garden of her own a few
pots of geraniums and fuchsias, with some summer-
flowers. She bad always liked to adorn her room after
a fashion ; and when the light came brightly through
the green leaves into the modest apartment, it looked ex-
ceedingly comfortable. And she had an abundance of
leisure to tend her flowers, for her husband bestowed far
more of his society upon her now than she felt to be at
all desirable, and performed many household duties that
had hitherto fallen to her share. He had been graciously
AN OLD COUPLE. 209
relieved of his office. He was seen to have grown too
old for his position, and was dismissed with a pension.
Kurten was well content that it should be so. He
thought he had deserved to pass his old age in repose,
but he found it terribly tiresome. If he could only find
something to occupy his time. The small services that
his wife asked of him were no trouble, although his
dignity required that he should grumble over their per-
formance ; and he could not sit still all day in his arm-
chair, his health would not permit that.
Therefore before long he had instituted a routine for
each day, not one whit less exact and precise than the
order of former days. The man who had regulated all
his movements by the hands of a clock for thirty-six
years could not break the bonds of habit. He had passed
thirty-six years of his life in traversing the streets of
Hamburg, and he could not stay within-doors during the
day. Formerly the neighbours, when they saw Herr
Kurten leave his home in the morning, knew that it must
be five minutes of eight o'clock ; they knew now that it
was precisely ten by the same token ; just twelve when
he returned, and so on in the afternoon. He no longer
hurried along, however ; he walked slowly, and with the
dignity of a man conscious that his time is his own ;
stopping now and then to look in at the shop-windows, to
watch the boys at play, the little girls dancing on the
broad sidewalk to the music of a hurdy-gurdy, entered
into conversation with the proprietors of the vegetable
and flower carts that rolled slowly along the streets,
verified the exactitude of the time at which the steamboats
left the harbour, knew wherever new buildings were erect-
ing, and tried all the new benches placed upon the shores
of the Alster for the accommodation of the public. He
did not venture outside of the city limits for fear of being
18*
210 WET DID HE NOT DIE?
obliged to hurry to preserve his punctuality. Instead of
a pouch for letters, he now carried a cane, which served
him as a plaything for some time, and in which he took
great pride ; but as years went by, it became of real use
to him as a support to his steps.
He employed his time at home in taking a noonday
siesta and in reading the papers. Not that he read any
number of them: he was no politician. No, he perused
most conscientiously the "Hamburg News" of the pre-
vious day, not only studying the editorials and the
political articles, but going with equal zeal through the
advertising columns, which could hardly have possessed
any personal interest for him. He always wore at
such times a huge tortoise-shell eyeglass, and moved his
lips while reading, a sign that he was deeply interested,
although it may be doubted if he entertained one clear
idea upon the subject of foreign or domestic politics.
There could be but little conversation between his wife
and himself; it had not been the habit of their lives, and
they could not feel the want of it. Each journeyed on
in the path of life, independently of the other as far as
was possible in the confined circle of their home. Theirs
was a dreary, lonely old age ; their marriage had al-
ways been regarded as a happy one, but there was
no love in it, and they of course became as sounding
brass or a tinkling cymbal. Neither had possessed suffi-
cient moral or mental superiority to be a means of eleva-
ting or refining the other, and in their home there was
none of that gentle, placid cheerfulness that, regarding
the past with content, looks forward with resignation to
the future. In fact, they were rather a cross, grumbling
old couple, although they were accounted most honest,
respectable people.
PART II.
CHAPTER I.
THE UHLENHORST. THE WATER-LILY.
THE Jungfernstieg (Maiden Hill) in Hamburg looks
directly across towards the Uhlenhorst (Owl's Nest).
This magnificent, world-renowned street, or rather single
row of country-seats, bounds the southwest shore of the
smaller of the basins formed by the waters of the river
Alster, the Binnen Alster, a tolerably square sheet of
water. Between this square and the larger basin to the
northeast, the Auszen Alster, the river narrows itself to
a strait, and the most charming little miniature steamers
sail in a few minutes from the Jungfernstieg to the oppo-
site bank of the Auszen Alster, that is, to Fairview, as
the shore is called, upon which the houses of the Uhlen-
horst, that loveliest of the suburbs of Hamburg, front.
A promenade there beneath the shady lindens is a
pleasure indeed in summer, and in fair weather when the
cutting wind does not come sweeping across the plains
of Northern Germany. The water, with its endless
play of light and colour, stretches away on one side,
enlivened by the swans upon its surface and a multitude
of graceful sail-boats, while on the other, the low hedges,
that separate the gardens of the splendid homes of the
Uhlenhorst from the road, afford a view of the beautiful
grounds that encircle each mansion.
(211)
212 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
There is an utter lack here, it is true,- of any compli-
ance with the laws of architectural art ; on the contrary,
most of these villas seem to have been erected, in bold
and wanton defiance of any known style, according to the
caprice of the possessor. In fact, Hamburg, excellent and
wealthy city that it is, has not much to boast of in the
way of architecture ; its inhabitants are sadly wanting in
an appreciation of that noble art : they stand and gape in
admiration of these villas on the Uhlenhorst, that are for
the most part pompous piles of stone overlaid with an
utterly tasteless ornamentation.
But even an uneducated eye would be impressed by
the noble simplicity of one among these palatial resi-
dences, one where the hand of genius was evident in the
artistic effect produced. The fa9ade of this mansion is
destitute of the Gothic monstrosities, the gingerbread-work
so popular with the worthy Hamburgers ; the inspiration
of the architect had been drawn from a study of the
purest models of ancient times. The interior of the man-
sion, however, is decorated after a costly and fanciful
fashion, and furnished with works of art, both in sculp-
ture and painting, from hands that wrought in the Me-
dicean age, and by their genius immortalized many a
wealthy Macsenas, whose glory it was to patronize the
divinely-gifted artist.
In an open portico supported upon pillars at one end
of the house, called by the household "the veranda," a
gay party was assembled. The open folding-doors, lead-
ing into the house, afforded a view of the dining-room,
in which the table was standing, just deserted by the
guests, and the delicate china cups and silver service
upon a round table in the hall made it evident that the
hour for coffee had arrived.
" This is a charming spot here where I am sitting,"
THE UHLENHORST.TIIE WATER-LILY. 213
said one of the gentlemen, an old acquaintance of the
reader and an especial friend of the household, Pastor
Siegfried, as he leaned back in his chair enjoying his
cigar with Epicurean relish. " The ' Marriage at Cana'
is superb from here. It is almost as if one were looking
through the dining-room into another apartment, the
figures stand out so like life from the canvas."
" Yes ; but one ought to have such excellent eyes as
yours to enjoy it thoroughly," replied Herr Gravensund,
putting on his double eyeglass, and going close to the
Pastor's side to observe the effect of the picture.
" Am I not right ?" Siegfried continued. " Just see how
wonderful the effect of that ray of sunlight is, falling
across the figure of the Saviour. Victori, come here, you
must see this too."
" The illusion is perfect," said the painter. " How
warm the colouring of the picture is just at this moment !
The light is not always the best for it."
" It is beautiful enough to adore I" said Siegfried,
clasping his plump white hands in pious rapture.
"But look!" Victori went on to say, "see how the
tone gradually grows colder 1 The light that brings out
the figures so wonderfully, probably lasts only a few
minutes each day. There, it has gone now. The picture
Blocks dull and gray by contrast."
" Then let your eyes wander to those two statues in
their niches, they gain immensely by this rosy light of
the setting sun."
"How blest these millionaires are!" sighed Victori.
" Is it not as lovely here as in the golden days of Greece ?
How blue the lake as it reflects the azure sky I Friiu-
lein Anna, with her pure, Grecian profile, as she leans
over the balustrade yonder, might well be one of the
tuneful nine. This palace of a house, too, 'where marble
statues stand and gaze at ,me' "
214 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
" And that contains such gems of landscape art," the
Pastor concluded with an inclination of his head to
Victori.
" Yes, gentlemen," Gravensund said, " you are right.
I owe the tasteful completion of my home here to the
counsel and assistance of my friends. But man is a
discontented creature. Do you know that my eyes are
sure to wander to some spot that is bare, and still unpro-
vided with its appropriate picture or statue ?"
" Bravo ! excellent ! Herr Gravensund !" cried Yictori.
" I wish from my heart that every wealthy citizen of
Hamburg would see with your eyes, that is, would de-
tect the bare, unfinished parts of his walls and halls, art
and artists would have a better chance here if that were
the case."
" I perfectly understand what Gravensund means," said
Siegfried. " I have suffered for years because I could not
place the Venus of Milo in my library. I always saw just
the spot where it did not stand, it has comforted me
greatly to have a niche here dedicated to the goddess. I
enjoy a sense of possession while I can see her here."
" And I always see those two huge, bare spots on the
drawing-room wall that are yet unappropriated," said
Gravensund. " I am determined to surprise my wife upon
her birthday with a gift of the two pictures that ought
to hang there, but I cannot quite make up my mind
whether they shall be genre pictures or sea views."
" Sea views, sea views, by all means I" the others
cried with one voice.
And Victori continued : " There is a pair of sea pictures
by Reichard in the exhibition at present that really ought
to form an era in art. People here know very little about
it, to be sure, but there is certain to be a crowd always
standing before those two pictures. They are very much
THE UHLENHORST.THE WATER-LILY. 215
talked of, the young man's reputation is established.
You must have heard of him, Herr Gravensund ?"
"Yes, and I have been surprised not to see him
here. Artists who come hither to reside, or even to
remain -for any length of time, seldom neglect to report
themselves to me, and I take pride in knowing that it
is so."
" He certainly is a man of decided talent and of rare
culture," said Victori ; "but he has his eccentricities.
With regard to the paying of visits, for instance
Well, I cannot defend him, he utterly refuses to visit
any of the wealthy patrons of art unless they first seek
him out."
" Seek him out ?" Gravensund repeated in a tone of
surprise.
" Yes ; they must make the first advances. He says,
' They expect scholars und artists to adorn their dwell-
ings and entertain their guests. It is they who receive the
favour, how can I ask them to confer any ?' "
" There is giving and receiving on both sides," said
Gravensund. " I can hardly, it is true, give to an artist
as much as I receive from him."
" You, my dear friend," Siegfried here interposed, " are
certainly not open to the blame that so frequently at-
taches to the wealthy class here, nevertheless the young
man is not wrong. I like his independence of spirit. One
of our first scholars told me the other day that he had
been quite intimate for a time in a house here in Ham-
burg, where he was often invited to spend the even-
ing upon the occasion of small parties, which he naturally
preferred to larger entertainments. But, after awhile, niy
friend discovered that large entertainments were fre-
quently given at this same house, to which he and his
wife were never asked, and he naturally suspected that
216 WHY DID II fi NOT DIE?
they were not considered sufficiently fashionable to be
presented to the crowd of millionaires that thronged the
gorgeous rooms on such occasions. Of course he refused
all subsequent invitations, and ceased visiting the house
at all. I think he was right."
" Perfectly so," said Gravensund ; " but such instances
of snobbishness among our wealthy class are supremely
ridiculous, and very rare, I should suppose."
" Not at all," rejoined Victori. " My position is now
assured ; but I could a tale unfold in the matter."
" I have no doubt of it," said Siegfried. " My cloth
protects me ; and yet when I was a candidate
Well, well, Father forgive them, they know not what
they do."
" They are ignorant enough," Victori added. " There
is scarcely a ray of real culture among our merchant-
class here, the most that they attain is a little super-
ficial appearance of it, and often not even that."
A short pause ensued, occupied by Gravensund in re-
flecting whether he himself had any right to preten-
sions to " real culture," while Siegfried gave the painter
a glance that said plainly enough, " That last remark
might as well have been suppressed."
In the mean while Anna had seated herself upon a low
chair close by one of the vine-wreathed pillars, and, with-
out paying any special heed to the conversation going on
around her, gazed dreamily out across the smooth lawn
to the placid surface of the water where a few sail-boats
were gliding along so slowly that their motion was almost
imperceptible.
"Anna darling, had you not better go into the house ?
you are coughing again," said Herr Gravensund, ap-
proaching his daughter and placing his hand caressingly
upon her head.
THE UHLENHORST.THE WATER-LILT. 21 f
" I coughing ? I never felt it, papa. It must have
been very slightly."
" Yes, but is it not too cool here for you ?"
" Too cool ? Oh, no, indeed ; the air is tropical to-day.
I was just thinking how delightful a sail would be."
" But, Anna, there is always a breeze upon the Alster,"
said the anxious father.
" Dearest father ! Breeze ? Only look at those sails !
They have just taken to their oars in that boat, there
really was not wind enough to fill their sails."
" Well, then, you know I can deny you nothing. If
you would really like to go, I will propose it to the gen-
tlemen. But we must wait awhile, it is rather too soon
after dinner for sailing now."
" Oh, yes, we need be in no hurry, the evening will
be so warm and clear."
" Fraulein Anna," cried one of the young gentlemen
present, " what do you say to a sail this evening ?"
Anna smiled and looked at her father.
" Either you have been listening, Herr Doctor," said
Gravensund jestingly, " or you are gifted with powers
of divination, we were just talking about what you
propose."
" That is delightful ; then I shall present my proposal
to all present in your name," said the young physician
without further question.
A few minutes afterward the entire party sauntered
down to the strip of land bordering close upon the water.
It had been converted into a lovely flower-garden, and,
moored close to the shore, there was a pretty sail-boat
large enough to accommodate all present. Siegfried was
at first inclined to stay behind ; but, upon discovering
that he should be doomed in that case to a tete-a-te'te
with his hostess, he declared himself ready for a sail, and
19
218 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
Therese remained alone, looking on, as she leaned across
the balustrade, at the embarkation of her guests.
She was very fair and stately ; she certainly under-
stood the art of dress to perfection. Although the
former monotony of hue in what she wore had vanished,
Madame Gravensund's taste was far too refined to err
upon the side of too much colour. The crimson rose in
her hair accorded well with the pearly lustre of the silk
dress, and the length of its train added to the dignity of
her bearing. She had always been distinguished in ap-
pearance ; but there had formerly been something nun-
like about her. Now that rose, those pearls, her costly
laces, and, more than all, the free, assured glance of her
large gray eyes, were all of the world worldly, and the
contrast must have struck any one who had ever con-
sidered it worth while in former days to observe Herr
Gravensund's housekeeper.
Why should Therese have accommodated herself to a
household routine against which all her instincts rebelled
after her position in that household was assured ? There
would have been no reason in her doing so, she deter-
mined to change it, and she had changed it.
The building of this palace of a country-seat, which
they were occupying for the first time this summer, had
been owing solely to her influence, although Herr Graven-
sund was far from suspecting that such was the case.
Therese did not consider the old town-house, stately
and solid as it was, sufficiently elegant for a man of
Gravensund's wealth, and she had so dexterously im-
planted in bis mind the desire for a villa as charming as
those they were continually passing in their daily drives,
that her husband really believed that he had been con-
templating its erection for years.
lu fact, he had once entertained such an idea years pre-
THE UBLENHORST.TnE WATER-LILT. 219
viously ; but since his Emma's death his indolent, negli-
gent nature had been content with matters as they were.
Led by Therese, he roused himself to a life of far keener
interests and more active exertion. He ordered and
studied plans for his new house, his good sense fortu-
nately leading him to place it entirely in the hands of a
skilful architect. The veneration for art in which he
had been trained from childhood stood him in stead now,
and preserved him from the errors that self-conceit might
have caused.
His interest in the structure grew with its growth, and
when it was at last completed, he turned his attention to
the adornment of its interior. He was always busy.
His brain was full, and so was his memorandum-book.
All this occupation had the happiest effect upon him,
especially as his work was an evident success. He grew
far more cheerful, his manner gained greatly in self-posses-
sion and decision ; he was more vivacious and talkative than
formerly, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, he resigned
the constant use of his pietistic phrases and habits.
It is true that he was still numbered among the exclu-
sive sect in religion. In all subscriptions for foreign
missions, or for funds for the erection of churches, his
name headed the list. He was not faithless to his former
views, but they no longer so pervaded his whole being
that he could not be passed in the street without eliciting
the exclamation, " There goes one of the holy ones !"
He had lost all his sanctified air, and his bearing was
free and unconstrained.
Therese smiled as she noticed Gravensund's gallant
attentions to the ladies of the party. Not one hair's
breadth of change in her husband had escaped her keen,
cunning eyes. It was all her work, a work that she had
always intended to perform ; and so skilfully had she set
220 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
about it that Gravensund never suspected her guiding
hand, or that Therese had always meant that he should
one day be what he had now become after the lapse of
two years.
Gravensund was completely under her dominion ; but
he was very content. The atmosphere into which he had
passed suited his temperament far better than the one to
which, during his first wife's lifetime, he had adapted
himself with loving resignation.
Therese was fully conscious of the baseness of her own
character, and as fully aware of the necessity of conceal-
ing all knowledge of it from those around her, if she
would maintain the position she had gained, and preserve
her present influence. Instead, therefore, of dropping
the mask after her marriage, she called her intellect to
her aid in suppressing all manifestation of the evil within
her, and prudently retained her reputation for excellence
and straightforwardness. She was so consummate a
hypocrite that, had she been younger, she might perhaps
in time have turned from evil, from the habit that her
understanding enjoined upon her of constantly affecting
truth and virtue, at war though they were with het
desires and inclinations.
There was a special conflict always going on within
her with regard to her stepchildren. They were in her
way ; yet Willy had left home long since, and his be-
haviour towards her had not been such as to enlist her
upon his side when his father felt he needed rebuke.
And Anna ? Anna was perfectly indifferent to her.
She was tired of her; but there had been no lack of
tender care around her young life, and the delicate
bud had almost become a perfect flower. She had not
fallen a prey to early death, although she was still frail
and delicate. "The worm is hidden in the heart of the
THE UnLENHORST.THE WATER-LILT. 221
blossom, I fear," Madame Gravensund was wont to
observe, with that air of tender sympathy that became
her so well, adding that it was such an unspeakable
comfort that the poor child was unconscious of her
danger.
The gay party in the boat glided smoothly over the
clear mirror of the water, engaged in merry conversation.
Herr Gravensund sat beside his daughter, taking care
that her shawl was wrapped closely about her, and watch-
ing every glance of her eyes, every change of colour in
her cheek. The soft evening air seemed to do her good.
She looked supremely happy; although, still feeling her-
self half a child, she took very little part in the conver-
sation. She gave all or most of her attention to a swan
that swam slowly and majestically after the boat, to feed
upon the pieces of bread that Anna had brought with
her to attract him.
The sail-boats that had been seen from the veranda
were still moving hither and thither, and frequently crossed
the track of Gravensund's skiff in avoiding the little
steamboat that was pursuing its customary way, its red
keel swiftly cutting the blue, glassy surface of the lake.
In the boat nearest their own, a young man was
sitting who evidently observed the Gravensund party
with interest. His glance rested sternly for one instant
upon the Pastor, then passed to Herr Gravensund, and
was finally riveted by the lovely girl with heavy braids
of fair hair, who looked at his skiff as it passed ; not un-
mindful, however, of the swan that she was feeding. She
held in her hand a beautiful white water-lily that she had
plucked as they sailed along ; and as she threw a piece
of bread to her favourite, the flower dropped from her band
and fell into the water.
The young oarsman bent over the side of his boat and
19*
222 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
possessed himself of the prize, which he held up with some-
thing of an air of triumph, while he courteously lifted his
hat to the blushing girl in the neighbouring skiff, which
another minute left far in his wake.
" Good-evening, Reichard, good-evening 1" Victori cried
out to him as he passed them.
" Who ? Who is the pirate ?" asked the young physi-
cian, for every one in the boat had witnessed the occur
rence, and had involuntarily glanced at the occupant of
the other skiff as it passed them.
" That is Reichard, the artist, the very man we were
speaking of to-day, Herr Gravensund. Ah ! an artist
indeed ! I wish I had painted his two latest pictures."
" He's a very handsome man," remarked a young lady
present.
" Hm rather good looking," said the Doctor.
" More than rather good looking, Herr Doctor," said
Siegfried ; " the man is very handsome, there is some-
thing distinguished in his air. I was struck by his appear-
ance even in the moment that we saw him while sailing
past."
" He certainly is a handsome fellow," Victori declared.
" Envy itself cannot deny that."
" A great artist, and a handsome man," said Graven-
sund. "Brilliant advantages those."
" Let us hope that he is a virtuous man," said Sieg-
fried, who felt it due to his office to remind those present
that there were other qualities more to be desired than
beauty or artistic skill, although he now often laid aside
his ultra pietistic phraseology.
Victori and the Doctor exchanged meaning glances,
and the former replied, " He is a perfect Cato a trifle
too strict, indeed !"
" Come, come, this is too much," the Doctor com-
THE UHLENHORST.THE WATER-LILT. 223
plained with an irritation that was not all feigned.
"This pirate appears to be an ideal human being."
He had been annoyed at the loss and recovery of the
water-lily, for he was more interested than he cared to
acknowledge to himself in the beautiful girl whose hold
upon life he knew to be so frail.
" Ideal or not," said Herr Gravensund, " I am at pres-
ent more interested in his skill as an artist. I shall go
to-morrow, if I can possibly find time, and see his pictures.
If they are such masterpieces as they are represented to
be, and I certainly have no reason to doubt that they are,
I shall wait upon him in his studio, and induce him to
lend me his aid in completing the furnishing of my walls.
I particularly like to give orders to artists residing in
Hamburg, it helps to keep them among us."
" I do not know whether Reichard means to take up
his abode here or not," said Yictori.
" Is Hamburg his native place ?"
" No, that is, I think not, his tongue is not North
German."
" Then, I'm afraid he will not stay here," said Graven-
sund. " Only a love for one's native place can make
Hamburg an endurable residence for an artist."
And the conversation turned to a discussion concerning
Hamburg viewed in its social and artistic aspect, in which
another hour was consumed, and then they returned to
the villa to partake of tea and ices, the guests not depart-
ing until late in the evening.
224 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
CHAPTER II.
ATONEMENT.
REICHAKD the artist was busy in his studio, a lofty,
spacious apartment, with a north light, in one of the
colossal buildings on the confines of the suburb St.
George. The light streamed in from the triple-arched
window, whence there was an extended prospect. The
dark-painted walls were hung with all kinds of studies,
landscapes, architectural drawings, figures, drapery, etc.,
but there was a great preponderance of marine sub-
jects, a number of ships, grottoes, sea-coasts, light-
houses, sea-birds, wrecks, and skiffs of all sorts. Some
larger pictures there were, partly finished, upon their
easels, and before one of these the artist was standing
painting. It was the mouth of the Elbe in a calm. On
the left, by the " Alten Liebe," the magnificent wharf
of Cuxhaven,-lay a Helgoland steamer, and in the dis-
tance stretched the enormous dike that bids defiance
to floods and tempests from the northwest. The rest
of the picture was devoted to sea and sky, the former
enlivened, however, by numerous craft that pass this way
to gain the open sea.
The artist was indeed a handsome man; his dark-
brown hair clustered in curls upon his temples, and as
he stepped a few paces backward, palette and maul-stick
in hand, to observe the effect of his work, he looked him-
self every whit worthy to be a painter's model. His
short black velvet coat of antique cut, combining both
beauty and convenience, lent an added grace to his figure.
ATONEMENT. 225
One corner of the apartment, partly curtained off from
the rest of the room, was devoted to the litter, in the way
of casts, costumes, etc., in which an artist's atelier is sure
to abound, the few articles of furniture were very old
and richly carved, the table was covered with a brilliant
piece of Gobelin tapestry, and upon it stood a crystal cup
of clear water in which floated a white water-lily.
While Reichard was absorbed in his work, there was a
knock at the door.
" Come in !" cried the painter.
The door opened, and Herr Gravensund entered.
A flush of surprise pleased surprise coloured Reich-
ard's cheek. Did he know the man ? Perhaps he re-
membered having seen him sailing the day before ; but
he could not be aware of his name, for he waited calmly
until he should introduce himself.
Gravensund had been delighted with the pictures in
the exhibition, and had immediately hurried to find the
artist. His mind was made up. No one but Reichard
should adorn the empty spaces upon his walls; he did
not think it courteous to talk instantly of a special com-
mission, but he expressed a warm desire to obtain one
of Reichard's pictures.
The painter easily discovered that his-visitor possessed
taste and discernment in art, although his opinions were
modestly expressed, with none of the airs of a patron.
His manner, in alluding to the pictures he had just seen,
gratified Reichard, and his intelligent criticism and ad-
miration of the half-finished pictures, and even of the
studies on the walls of the room, completed the agree-
able impression he had made.
" I own a number of pictures," said Gravensund, ac-
cepting Reichard's invitation to avail himself of one of
the antique high-backed chairs ; " but no sea view of any
226 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
value. I confess, to my shame, that for years I took no
interest in adding to iny collection ; I scarcely understand
now how it was."
" There are so many artistic pleasures to be had for
the asking in this wealthy city," replied Reichard, " that
the modest claims of painting may well be overlooked.
Music and the drama are admired of all, but they bring
such complicated tastes and interests into play that
there is often no chance to exert a love of art for its own
sake."
" You are right," said Gravensund ; " and yet I cannot
say that my neglect was due to any of the charms of
music or the drama. No, there were other circumstances,
and, perhaps," he added, smiling, "the fact that my
former picture-gallery was full, had something to do with
it. I have lately built another house, and the empty
spaces on its walls annoy me." .
"Is the old house no longer yours, then?" Reichard
asked so hastily that Gravensund looked up in surprise.
" Do you know my old house ?"
" I ? oh, no, not at all," replied the painter, with
some embarrassment ; " only when upon my arrival here
I asked who were the chief lovers of art in the city, I
was told that the Gravensund mansion contained many
valuable pictures, and your name was among the first
mentioned to me."
"They spoke of my house in town; the old collection
is still there."
" And you reside there no longer ?"
" No, not in the summer. I have built a house on the
TJhlenhorst, where I am at present with my family, and
where I hope to have the honour of seeing you, Herr
Reichard. My wife shares my enthusiasm for art, and,
with me, delights in the society of artists.
ATONEMENT. 221
Reichard bowed silently, and involuntarily glanced at
the water-lily, which Herr Gravensund had noticed when
he first entered the room. As, however, neither referred
to the sail of the previous day, it remained a matter of
doubt to each whether he were recognized.
" I hope to see you often," said Gravensund ; " I take
such pleasure in my new house that I long to have my
friends enjoy it also. One does not build for one's self
alone. I confess I need society more than ever now."
"Of course," replied Reichard, "spacious apartments
are cold and lifeless, without the human element to put
a soul in them. But as far as I am concerned I wish
you were still living in your old house."
"Ah, how so ? What do you mean ?"
" Why, I am a fanatic in my art, and now that you
have told me of the gallery there "
" You must see it," Gravensund interrupted him, and
it was evident that it gave him great pleasure to afford
the artist any gratification.
" Is there any one in the house, then, at present ? Is
it open to visitors?"
" There is a housekeeper there to take care of it ; but
do not imagine that I shall deny myself the pleasure of
showing you my treasures. Tell me when I shall come
for you, any hour will suit me."
"A thousand thanks ; but it is making too great a
demand upon your time, my dear Herr Gravensuud.
How can you place it at the disposal of every chance-
acquaintance ?"
" Not of every chance-acquaintance. In this case I
gain far more than I give, in seeing in your society that
of which use has, perhaps, dulled my appreciation."
" I certainly cannot reject so courteous and kind an
offer ; but I pray you appoint the day and hour yourself."
223 WHY DID HE NOT DIEt
"The sooner the better. To-morrow, or the day
after ?"
" The day after to-morrow let it be. We must take
advantage of the morning light."
" Yes, there is too much sunshine in the room in the
afternoon. I will not interrupt you any longer to-day,"
said Gravensvmd, rising, "your time is more valuable
than mine."
" Let me hope to see you here soon again. If my work
may not be laid aside, I can easily go on painting without
interfering with our conversation."
" Oh, if you will allow me to come and look on, I shall
certainly avail myself of the permission. It does not
seem to me at all as if I had seen you to-day for the first
time, and yet it is so. I have never been in this delightful
atelier before."
" Do you know that such an impression betokens a
future friendship ?"
" Indeed ? I trust the omen may not fail in this case.
Until day after to-morrow." And Gravensund held out
his hand to the artist, who grasped it with more warmth
of manner than was usual with him.
On the appointed day a liveried footman announced to
Reichard that Herr Gravensund's carriage, with its mas-
ter, awaited his pleasure ; and a few moments afterward
he was rolling through the streets of Hamburg by the side
of his new friend, who was no less complaisant than upon
the occasion of their previous interview.
Gravensund was so occupied with his own pleasure in
rendering the artist this slight service that he never ob-
served Reichard's endeavour to master a certain agitation
of mind that would have made itself apparent to a less
unsuspicious nature. There were several streets to tra-
verse before they reached their destination, N Street,
ATONEMENT. 229
and Reichard's gaze outstripped the speed of the glossy
tborough-breds and rested with feverish expectation upon
the old patrician mansion in the distance that he knew
so well, and that he had sought out and lingered near
upon the first evening of his arrival in Hamburg,
searching afterwards in the back street for the humble
dwelling that was no longer to be found.
The carriage stopped. Gravensund alighted first and
held out his hand to the artist, who grasped it, and, as if
in absence of mind, retained it, so that Gravensund,
in the literal sense of the words, conducted him across
his threshold. With a long sigh of relief, Reichard then
dropped his companion's hand and gazed around the
spacious hall.
" You feel the damp coolness of the air that is com-
mon to all our ground-floors in Hamburg, it is really
like a cellar here. It is not so bad when the house is
inhabited."
Reichard made no reply; he was already slowly ascend-
ing the broad, winding staircase, his head bent, and his
gaze riveted upon each step, as if to discover there traces
of by-gone years which thousands of succeeding footsteps
must have erased. He did not heed what Gravensund
was saying, and answered mechanically. But he col-
lected himself, and raised his head as the key grated in
the lock of the folding-doors in the upper hall, opposite
the entrance from the garden, and in an instant more the
light streamed through the open doors, and he entered
the apartment that to his childish fancy had seemed
more marvellously gorgeous than Aladdin's palace.
The collection of pictures was very fair, it had been
chosen with a great degree of taste and knowledge,
although, of course, mediocrity was well represented.
Reichard must have seen many a larger aud finer collec-
20
230 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
tion, and yet this particular gallery so enthralled and
delighted him that Gravensund was quite in an ecstasy,
and grew prouder of his treasures every moment.
" To me the gem of the collection," said Reichard, " is
this Murillo Madonna. She is infinitely more inspiring in
the simplicity of her womanhood than the transcendental
mother of God."
" Yes, but its genuineness is disputed."
" That's of no consequence, if it is a copy it is a
copy by a master-hand. I believe it genuine, I think I
know Murillo's sign-manual. Still if a copy can so de-
light us, why question whether it is original or not? Let
us enjoy without cavil or doubt."
" I think you are right."
" To me that Madonna in her simple attire against that
gray background is entrancingly lovely. I now under-
stand the charm that she, I mean I can readily under-
stand the worship of the Madonna, it is veneration,
adoration, for the loveliest and divinest attribute of
humanity."
Of course Gravensund could make no reply to this
remark, for the worship of the Madonna was a tabooed
subject ; and to speak of anything divine in humanity
was purely almost heathenish.
" All artists are fanciful folk," he thought, and to
change the subject he called Reichard's attention to a
small collection of various curiosities and costly rarities,
among which were some exquisite specimens of wood-
carving, arranged in a cabinet which was a miracle of
this art, and which excited Reichard's admiration.
"It came from the dwelling of a peasant in the Hoi-
stein marches, where my grandfather found it," said Herr
Gravensund.
" Is it possible ! I could scarcely have believed that
ATONEMENT. 231
a country principally famous for its oxen could have pro-
duced such a treasure."
" Oh, I see you share the universal prejudice. But
look at these delicate spoons, salt-cellars, and bowls,
they were all bought there, and that large cabinet
also."
" That looks familiar. I used to see one of the same
kind when I was a boy in the house of a Holstein peas-
Ant. The house linen was kept in it. As I remember
it, it was rather coarsely carved, but it rested upon four
small wooden wheels that were very convenient in push-
ing it from place to place."
" Yes, I have seen such. You are familiar with the
Holstein territory, then ?"
" Tolerably. I spent some time there during my child-
hood. What delicate workmanship this is !" Reichard
replied evasively, taking up a carved goblet. " Such
graceful tracing, and such mathematical precision !"
"All the household utensils are carved after that fash-
ion, it is more suitable for use, and as the relief is
not so high, is much easier to keep clean. Cleanliness,
as you doubtless know, is the one aim in life of the Hol-
stein housekeeper."
" I see," replied Reichard, " that the cabinet is carved
after an entirely different style. These things quite
fascinate me, and I have collected some fine specimens
for the furniture of my studio. Is wood-carving a source
of profit now to the dukedom, does it form, a branch of
trade ?
" Oh, no, it never has been any source of profit to the
country. The peasants used" to carve these articles in
their long winter evenings for their own use. And not
only the peasants, the sailors and fishermen employed
their leisure in the same manner, so that there were
232 WHY DID TIE NOT DIE?
quantities of this antique furniture on the Friesland
isles."
" Were ? Is it there no longer ?"
" Most of it has been purchased by collectors, virtuosi,
or by enterprising Jews, and the art has greatly declined
since the modern varnished pine furniture can be bought
so cheap."
" "Tis a great pity," rejoined Reichard. " Of course,
what articles there are have gained greatly in value?"
" Not always," said Gravensund. " If you try to pur-
chase such on Fohr or Lylt, where the article in question
has been admired and praised by hundreds of summer
tourists, you will, it is true, make a poor bargain ; but
there are always some retired nooks and corners, where
such things lie hid for years, and their possessors are
utterly ignorant of their worth. A friend of mine, the
artist Victori, found a magnificent old cabinet in a peas-
ant's kitchen with over thirty figures in relief, blackened
by perhaps a century of peat- smoke from the huge open
fire. The people were perfectly willing to part with it,
and asked such a ridiculously small price for it that Vic-
tori had qualms of conscience about taking it at so low a
rate, and painted them a picture of their farm and out-
houses, which quite transported them with delight."
" And yet they could hardly have appreciated any
work of art?"
" Oh, yes, after their fashion. None of them could by
anypossibility have painted a picture, but the cabinet
was the work of one of themselves, and ranked accord-
ingly. When Yictori paid the money for the cabinet, the
Hausfrau said with immense satisfaction, 'Now I can
buy something fit to stand in our best room !' "
Reichard laughed. " And we adorn our drawing-rooms
with what the peasant considers scarce good enough for
ATONEMENT. 233
his kitchen ! What a strange contradiction there exists,
too, in the existence of the artistic taste that produced
the work with entire incapacity to appreciate it 1"
" Perhaps the despotism of fashion will explain it all.
Those carved articles are no longer the fashion with the
dwellers in the marches."
" Doubtless it is so, and we can hardly boast better
taste. The most graceful dress, the most perfect outline
in furniture, becomes odious to us if it is no longer the
fashion. But may 1 ask, what these charming caskets
contain ?" Reichard continued, pointing to a row of caskets
ranged in one corner of the room.
" Coins," Gravensund answered, opening two or three
of the caskets. " Portuguese coins from the sixteenth
century, when Hamburg carried on a constant trade with
Portugal, and the large golden Portuguese crusados
were current here. Now they are regarded as quite
curious."
" They are current no longer ?" inquired Reichard.
"No, but they have an actual value of ten ducats,
and are used for gifts or mementos. See, this is the
oldest at present in existence. You can distinguish the
Holstein nettle upon it, with the inscription vertente
millesimo. Several lie re were coined at the beginning
of the nineteenth century," Gravensund continued, point-
ing out two or three of the other coins. "That beautiful
medal was struck at the conclusion of the peace of Amiens,
and this latest of all commemorated our magnificent
Schiller festival in 1859."
Gravensund had taken the coin inscribed vertente mille-
simo from its place, and handed it to Reichard, calling his
attention to the clear and beautiful impression on the re-
verse side.
It was the very coin that had driven the boy Richard
20*
234 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
Kurten from this house ; he had held it for one instant in
his hand as be picked it up from the floor where it had
rolled out of his cap. He had been thrust forth from the
door like a thief, covered with disgrace ; the chance that
left open the door of the picture-gallery had driven him
forth from his childhood's home into the wide world.
And the world had treated the orphau boy rudely
enough, it had in nowise spared his sensibilities. But
he had won through his hard struggles, he was a man,
and a man who had a right ty carry his head proudly.
With not even a name for his inheritance, the child
from the Ebraergang had been thrown upon the world.
Why had he not died before the consciousness of his
loneliness could weigh him down? His present name of
Reichard was far nobler than any title that might have
been his merely by inheritance. He had raised it aloft
from the darkness of plebeian degradation to those sunny
heights where the true aristocracy of the earth have their
home. The forlorn boy was an artist, and never yet in
all the course of his laborious career had the conscious-
ness so glowed within him of his inalienable birthright
that enthroned him above all mere wealth and station,
above mediocrity born in the purple, as a this moment,
when he once more held in his hand the coin that had so
influenced his destiny.
The gifts of genius Cannot be bequeathed. An artist's
diploma cannot be purchased. Happy those who can
say, " I, too, am of their number." "Anch' io son pittore."
" I will re-enter this house one day with honour,"
Richard or Reichard had solemnly vowed to himself,
and his vow was fulfilled. Here he stood, the fateful
coin placed in his hands by its owner himself, who talked
on gaily, little dreaming what an atonement he had just
completed. Like a lightning flash the miserable mo-
ATONEMENT. 235
inents of that day so long ago, and all the various life
that he had known since then, passed through Reichard's
mind. A phase of his existence was finished done with.
And for the first time he felt as if a fair future lay before
him, what might he not aspire to in the realization of
his ideal ?
Involuntarily "he stood more erect, and brushed the
curls from his brow, as he handed back the coin to
Herr Gravensund, who looked at him in some surprise,
for the young man's features betrayed the emotion he
could not, for the moment, quite conceal.
" Forgive me," said Reichard, extending his hand, his
real meaning was, " I forgive you," " I am absent, it is
the fault of your Madonna, I think. We artists are sub-
ject to freaks, and must often rely upon your indulgence."
" The air here is close and sultry ; the housekeeper
does not open the room sufficiently, I am afraid," said
Herr Gravensund, going to the window and throwing it
wide open.
Reichard could not forbear following him thither, as if
to inhale the fresh breeze, but in reality to take one look
at the courtyard and garden in which his happiest child-
ish memories clustered. And how, small they had be-
come ! To the boy clambering out of the window of his
little room they had seemed so fair and spacious, to the
man long tossed hither and thither upon the boundless
sea of life, they appeared in their true shape as a minute
corner of the world.
Such transformations are not exactly painful : they sur-
prise us, but we can smile at them ; and Reichard smiled
as he looked out upon what had been an extensive park
to the child, but was in reality only a pretty garden.
And what had become of the children with whom he
had formerly played there, where was the brilliant, way-
236 TIT/r DID HE NOT DTE?
ward Netta whom he had so dearly loved ? He ihought
of the young girl whom he had seen a few days before :
she could not be Netta. Was she one of Gravensuud's
daughters ? He dared not ask. He should soon know
all about it ; for his mind was now quite made up, he
would accept Gravensund's invitation to visit him in his
new house.
His determination that Gravensund should invite him
courteously to his house had been fulfilled sooner than he
had dreamed ; but it had been his romantic whim that
that house should be the very same across the threshold
of which he had been so ignominiously expelled, innocent
and wretched, years since.
Now all was as it should be ; and when Gravensund
repeated his former invitation; it was courteously ac-
cepted ; for there had been no grudge against Herr Gra-
vensund in Reichard's heart: on the contrary, he had
remembered with gratitude how kind his treatment of
him had been in the beginning, and he had long forgiven
him for being misled by appearances that had confused
the boy himself.
YOUNG LOVE. 237
CHAPTER III.
YOUNG LOVE.
A WEEK elapsed before Reichard made his appearance
at the Uhlenhorst.
Herr Gravensund was out, the servant said, but
Madame Gravensund and Friiulein Anna were at home.
Reichard was conducted to a small reception-room, while
the footman announced his presence to the ladies, and
then immediately led the way to a large and delightful
apartment, looking out upon the waters of the Alster.
As he entered, a lady, who had apparently been occu-
pied with the piece of gay embroidery upon the smart
table by her side, arose to greet him. She was fair and
stately, although no longer young.
Reichard advanced with the entire ease of a man thor-
oughly accustomed to all the conventional forms of so-
ciety, whose well-bred self-possession it would not be easy
to disturb. But when this lady approached him and
they stood opposite each other with the light of the high
window shining full upon their faces, he suddenly started
and stood for one moment as if transfixed by the piercing
glance that met his own. This was not she whom he
had expected to meet, this was not the gentle, angelic
face that he remembered in his childhood, but that other
whose eyes, when he had recalled them, had glowed with
smothered hatred.
In one instant he was himself again, asking cour-
teously, " Have I the honour of addressing Madame
238 WHY DID JTE NOT DIE?
Gravensund ?" And he easily conveyed to Therese, as
she assented, the impression that her grace and dignity
had taken him by surprise, and caused his momentary
embarrassment.
Flattery, delicately administered, is never unpalatable,
even to a woman on the wrong side of forty. Therese
was soothed, and the suspicion that is always the com-
panion of a guilty conscience was lulled to rest by
Reichard's courteous conduct.
But although Reichard took pains to conceal his senti-
ments under the mask of conventional courtesy, he was
none the less unfavourably impressed by his hostess,
whose white hands were always displayed to such ad-
vantage, and whose cold, gray eyes cast such restless,
searching glances from under their drooping- lids.
Their conversation concerned perfectly indifferent
topics, as is usual with those who meet for the first time
as acquaintances; but Reichard dexterously and by de-
grees led Madame Gravensund to speak of the various
members of her family, and was ust listening to an ac-
count of her son her stepson who had made choice of a
military career, and was causing his father some anxiety,
when the artist's ejes were attracted towards the heavy,
blue damask portiere. A small, white hand drew it aside,
and a fairy -like form, dressed simply in white muslin,
entered the room. It was Anna, who, with a blush,
recognized the stranger who had rescued her lily from
the water, and whose glance, as he was presented to her,
told her that the recognition was mutual.
Madame Gravensund, of course, knew nothing of this ;
but she remarked, with some irritation, the impression
made upon the artist by Anna's delicate beauty, and the
fact that he not only insisted upon immediately including
in the conversation "the child," as Therese was wont to
YOUNG LOVE. 239
call her stepdaughter, but that his gaze was apt to rest
longer than was at all necessary upon the fair, reflned
features so well fitted to cast Therese's peculiar beauty
into the background.
Anna's childlike grace was, indeed, exquisite; but,
standing as it were only upon the threshold of woman-
hood, she was so utterly unconscious of the rare charm of
her beauty that Reichard was inspired with devout rev-
erence for her maidenly purity, and held his admiration
in check, never even betraying it by one word that could
be distorted into a compliment.
What a contrast mother and daughter presented !
Where a commonplace observer would simply have seen
an accomplished, graceful woman of the world, and an
unformed, half-developed girl, the artist's eye had clearer
vision. Reminiscences of his childhood thronged his
mind, and, as he caught a quick flash from those gray-
green orbs, he felt instinctively that the dislike with which
Madame Gravensund inspired him was mutual, although
both hostess and guest were conventionally all that was
courteous.
Just as Reichard was about to take his leave, Herr
Gravensund returned, and his pleasure was so evident
in welcoming the painter to his house that the latter was
induced to prolong his visit. Of course he had to be
shown the house and the various works of art that it
contained ;. and, as they walked from room to room,
Anna accompanied them, hanging upon her father's arm,
refusing to believe that she could tire herself or be
exposed to draughts, as Gravensund's tender care of her
suggested, and looking out of the loveliest blue eyes in
the world from one to the other of the gentlemen as they
discussed matters of taste and art.
Gravensund requested the artist to paint two sea
240 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
views for the vacant spaces on his wall that had so an-
noyed him, and his commission was gratefully accepted.
" It is a pleasure, indeed," said Reichard, " to work for
a genuine lover of art. So many of our best efforts go to
public collections, and the artist grows too fond of his
creation not to be greatly interested in its destination
after it leaves his hands."
" Of course, of course, through them your fame will
live after you ; and then not only are these rooms suit-
able for works of art, but really it is not like consigning
them to the obscurity of private life. All lovers of art
who visit Hamburg do me the honour to inspect my
collection, and lately we have entertained many guests."
"Only lately ? And yet your house in town is well
worthy to be thrown open to a large circle of friends."
" True, true, but my first wife died in that house," and
a shade passed across Gravensund's face, " she was ill
there for some years, and her nature was so retiring, she
had so little of what was earthly about her her piety
was so intense I loved her most deeply, and ordered
my life in everything according to her wishes "
Gravensund paused and did not conclude his sentence,
while Anna looked up at him anxiously. As he met her
eyes, he smiled and lightly stroked her cheek.
"Yes, "he continued, " my present wife is of an entirely
different temperament ; she enjoys excitement and social
intercourse, and maintains that I should have become
a sad hypochondriac if she had allowed me to pursue my
former life of indolence and ease. And in fact since I
have given myself up to new interests and pursuits, I
have been much better in health. Then, too, I have a
theory that it is only when one loves with the deep ab-
sorbing passion of a first love, that one can contentedly
resign one's self to a life of absolute quiet and domesticity.
TO UNO LOVE. 241
A man as he grows older grows more practical, and
requires a wider range of interests, and an experience of
the other delights that life affords."
" You are right," Reichard replied to this explanation
that afforded him an insight into the nature of his kindly
entertainer.
He left the house divided in his mind between antip-
athy for its mistress, and a genuine desire to see more of
its master, between whom and himself there existed, un-
known to either, so strong a natural tie. If a third emo-
tion mingled with these, he refused to acknowledge it to
himself, or regarded it as an artist's admiration for Anna's
Hebe face and figure.
Reichard began the execution of Gravensund's com-
mission with great delight and enthusiasm, while the
latter spent many an hour in the artist's studio, watching
the progress of the work. There was inherent sympathy
between the two men, founded upon a genuine nobility
of character, which Reicbard had preserved amid all the
battling of "outrageous fortune," and which a life of
indolent ease and luxury bad not been able to obliterate
in Gravensund's case. Then, too, they met upon ground
where the artist was at home, and where he knew how
to welcome his guest without arrogance ; while that guest
really exerted himself to make his host forget the relation
in which he stood to him as a wealthy Macsenas. His
well-meant endeavour, however, was utterly superfluous,
for Reichard's brush brought him far more than he
needed, even with his rather extravagant ideas ; and
wealth and splendour impressed him so little that he
would have smiled at his new friend's efforts had he per-
ceived them. He was too conscious of his power not to
know, if the matter ever occupied his thoughts, that one
of his pictures was worth more than the velvet carpet
21
242 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
upon which he trod in Gravensund's house, or the plate
with which his table was loaded.
And how was it with regard to his friend's lovely
daughter ?
Anna was always present if her health permitted
when Reichard visited her father, and, if he had at first
been attracted by her beauty and grace, each succeeding
interview heightened his interest in her to tender devo-
tion.
Whether the room were filled with guests, or if none
but intimate friends were present, Reichard generally
found his way to the corner of the drawing-room, where,
behind a screen of vines and tropical plants, Anna had
contrived a kind of retreat for herself a cosy little nook
that delighted her girlish heart. Here she was released
from any share in the general conversation, while she
could hear all that could interest her. She had been in-
dulged in her every whim, and Gravensund, although he
would now and then entice her forth from her semi-seclu-
sion, was too much afraid of thwarting his idol not to
yield to her wish for retirement, especially as Therese
always found reasons why undue excitement was espe-
cially to be dreaded in her stepdaughter's case. Of
course it was Madame Gravensund's desire to keep Anna
as much behind the scenes as possible, while she looked
forward with fiendish eagerness, beneath the mask of
maternal anxiety, to the development of that insidious
disease to which she had always considered the young
girl doomed, only fearing lest a crisis might occur which
would give her back to life and health.
" I knew her mother, I was with her at the time of
Anna's birth," she said to Reichard one day, when she
was alone with him ; " she died of consumption, and un-
happily left the disease as a legacy to her child."
YOUNG LOVE. 243
" But are you sure " Reichard began. " It seems by
no means a certainty to me that Fraulein Anna is its
destined victim."
" She is her mother's daughter," replied Therese, de-
cidedly, but with a due amount of affectionate sympathy.
" But she sometimes looks so well and rosy, I scarcely
ever hear her cough, I cannot believe anything so ter-
rible."
" Ah, my dear Herr Reichard, you cannot judge from
her looks when people are here, or at any time when she
is able to leave her room ; but I see her at all hours, and
I hear I listen to her cough through many a sleepless
night, and know, too, how her poor father is torn with
anxiety."
What was it that whispered to the young painter,
" These are exaggerated, wilful falsehoods, she is herself
far too robust and healthy to know anything about sleep-
less nights, and those are deceitful crocodile's tears in
her gray-green eyes" ? Why she should exaggerate and
falsify thus he could not divine. How could he suspect that
this was Madame Gravensund'splan for frightening away
all possible wooers from her lovely stepdaughter ? That
Anna should ever marry and divert her father's wealth
into what Therese was wont to call strange channels,
was gall and wormwood to her avarice. And her plan
succeeded ; no one whom she took into her false counsels
dared to offer his heart or hand to Anna Gravensund.
But Reichard placed no dependence whatever upon her
words, although he could not guess her motive for utter-
ing them. He set them down to jealousy. She meant
if she could to set her stepdaughter aside and he deter-
mined to thwart her.
" The girl is delicate," he said to himself, " but she seems
to me in these last few weeks to be growing stronger and
244 WHY DID HE NOT DIE1
healthier, perhaps a true and absorbing affection might
have the happiest effect upon her sensitive organization
in supplying an energy that is now absent, and in rousing
her from the languor that seems to overpower her and
gives her the semblance of suffering. She cannot be very
ill ; she does not complain, and could she ever love me,
I wonder ? Do I love her, I wonder ? Do I love her
sufficiently to brave the consequences of a marriage that
would so fetter me ?"
He could not answer this question satisfactorily, and
he accused himself of miserable cowardice in thus weigh-
ing and calculating the most sacred emotions of the heart.
" Fool that I am !" he thought. " What am I about ?
what right have I to the love of any woman ? what name
can I offer her ? Who am I ? The artist Reichard ?
That name is the mere coinage of my own brain. Rich-
ard Kurten the letter-carrier's son, a fugitive from the
House of Correction ? No, I am not even Richard Kur-
ten, I am the child from the Ebraergang, and I now
know that, born there, I must be the offspring of shame.
Disgrace is my mother, or no one could have been cruel
enough to withhold a mother's name from her child.
And would not honour demand that I should confess to
the father of my love that I am the same Richard Kur-
ten who was ignominiously expelled from his house,
who is still attainted of a crime he never committed?
No, no, I cannot venture further in the path that seemed
opening before me !
" But then cannot an artist's fame obliterate the dis-
grace of my parentage ? Scarcely, in the eyes of these
darlings of wealth and luxury. This man himself, with
all his professions of regard and esteem, could hardly cast
aside the fetters of prejudice that have been around him
from his birth. Did not Frau Therese hint plainly enough
TO UNO LOVE. 245
that Anna's sister Netta, the gay, laughing child whom I
so well remember, had brought disgrace upon her aris-
tocratic family by teaching, becoming a " schoolmistress,"
as Madame Gravensund phrased it, she, the former
housekeeper, who has had art enough, Heaven only
knows how, to rise to command, where she once obeyed ?
I hate her!"
This " I hate her " was sure to be the refrain when-
ever his thoughts reverted to Frau Therese. In his
secret heart he accused her of his disgrace in the matter
of the stolen coin, although he could not possibly imagine
the real state of the case, and it seemed to him that in
her society Anna would wither and fade under the influ-
ence of the " evil eye." He was impatient to remove her
from the effect of that basilisk glance.
"And I will remove her," he would declare to himself
sometimes, when he imagined that he could detect in
Anna's gentle, confiding demeanour towards him symp-
toms of a more tender emotion than mere friendship, " I
will lay my fame, everything that I have and am, at
her feet. I am not nameless, after all, and love is mightier
than all artificial distinctions." Then, overcome with in-
expressible pity, he would add, " If she may not live for
me or I for her, at least she shall die in my arms, the
arms of devoted affection."
Such thoughts, however, did not last long, the artist
could arrive at no decisive resolution. He was beset
by doubts and fears, he could not tell if it were possible
for him to win Anna's heart, and he was not often in a
mood sufficiently heroic to declare himself a lover where
he could not but suspect that death was his rival.
21*
246 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
CHAPTER IV.
FOES TO THE DEATH.
PASTOR SIEGFRIED was no longer as frequent a guest
as formerly in Gravensund's house, although the changes
effected there could not but be grateful to his Epicurean
taste. The fact was that he despaired of the fulfilment
of his early plans, his personal influence with Graven-
sund was greatly weakened, and he saw plainly that
Therese had entirely ceased to be his tool and accomplice.
He felt humiliated in her presence, and his arrogant
soul rebelled. The distant situation of the new villa
served as a pretext for the infrequency of his visits,
and thus it naturally happened that Reichard had
for weeks been an habitual visitor there without ever
encountering Herr Pastor Siegfried.
One afternoon, when the days were growing rather
autumnal, Anna was sitting with her sketch-book before
her in her favourite nook. She had a very fair talent for
drawing, and had made great progress since her acquaint-
ance with Reichard, but she was evidently dissatisfied
with her work at present. Her father and mother had
driven to the opera, which was just opening for the
season, and she might be alone for several hours. As
she was thinking " I wish Herr Reichard would happen
to come in ; he would show me how to sketch that
water ; this of mine looks like a plank-floor," she heard
the swing of the iron gate upon the road, and, looking
from the window, saw Reichard coining through the
garden.
FOES TO THE DEATH. 247
She received him with unfeigned pleasure, and yet,
after he had taken her pencil from her and shown her
how to produce the desired effect, their tete-a-tete grew
rather constrained, for the artist's dark eyes were fixed
upon her with so expressive a glance that she could not
avoid thinking there was some special meaning in them ;
and then the twilight came on, and it was impossible to
draw any longer.
" I wish papa or mamma were here, or that somebody
would come in," she thought; and again her wishes were
fulfilled, as if by attendant fairies, for the garden-gate
swung open, although Anna did not hear it ; Reichard
was talking so strangely to her that she could not but
listen, although she did not understand him.
What made him speak of wretched, forsaken chil-
dren? of a poor boy born in poverty and disgrace,
without name or home? How did it concern her?
What did he mean, and why was his agitation so great
that she, too, was infected by it and became uneasy and
nervous ?
" Did you ever read an old story, Fraulein Anna, of a
man in search of a name ? Do you not think it was his
duty to find it before giving away his heart?"
" I do not know, I do not understand, Hen* Reich-
ard," Anna replied in extreme embarrassment. " Let me
ring for lights."
At that moment the door opened, and Pastor Siegfried
entered. He had heard Reichard's last words and Anna's
reply. If she had not risen to ring for lights, he might
perhaps have listened quietly awhile longer, for the con-
versation seemed to be interesting, and it was neces-
sary for him, as a servant of the church, to acquaint
himself with the private affairs of the members of his
flock.
248 WET DID HE NOT DTE?
Welcome as the interruption was to Anna, Siegfried's
entrance embarrassed her and annoyed Reichard ex-
tremely. Anna tried to conceal her confusion beneath a
flow of words, while Reichard, in a rage of disappoint-
ment, could not instantly master his irritation. He
scarcely replied to the Herr Pastor's complimentary ad-
dress when Anna presented the gentlemen to each other,
and then turned to the servant to order the lights to be
lit, for it was too dark to distinguish countenances.
" It has long been my cherished desire to meet you,
Herr Reichard," said Siegfried, " and I have many a time
in thought presented myself to you in your studio as an
admirer of your genius, but the duties of my office, the
duties of my office, they sometimes almost weigh me
down."
Just then the servant lighted the gas-light above their
heads.
" Let there be light !" Siegfried said with unction, as
the glare of the dazzling jet of flame fell full upon the
countenances of those present.
The artist's and the Pastor's glances met. Why did
the latter start in dismay? What spell was there in
those dark eyes that met his own for an instant with a
look of hate and defiance, and were then silently averted ?
Anna turned from one to the other in amazement. Reich-
ard stood with folded arms, in nowise inclined to betray
his former acquaintance with Herr Pastor Siegfried,
but doubly incensed that he should be the cause of so
untimely an interruption.
Siegfried's thoughts were in an instant far away in the
past amid labyrinths of the lowest byways of the city.
With the sudden flash of the gas-light a ray of conscious-
ness had illumed his memory, he recognized those burn-
ing eyes with their expression of boundless hate and
FOES TO THE DEATH. 249
scornful defiance. Just so they had gazed at him from
the boyish face, and the features, manly as they now
were he recognized those too, the same delicately chis-
elled nose, the broad brow crowned with dark curls, he
knew that the fugitive from the House of Correction, Rich-
ard Kurten, stood before him.
Anna was quite distressed, She could not but ob-
serve the painter's annoyance, and she thought she must
have offended him unconsciously, and was anxious to
make instant reparation. Reichard felt a gentle touch
upon his arm, and the girl's soft, blue eyes looked up at
him entreatingly.
-" Herr Reichard," she said, " can you not show me
how to finish this, now that we have light enough ? I
can go on drawing, then, to-morrow." And she opened
her sketch-book before him and laid a number of pencils
beside it. " Herr Siegfried will allow it," she added,
" it will not take long."
" Oh, do not let me disturb you," the Pastor replied.
" I can read until you have finished." And he took up one
of the illustrated periodicals lying upon the table whence
of late years the tracts that used to be so numerous had
vanished.
The clouds upon Reichard's brow were dispelled as if
by sunlight at Anna's light touch. He looked into her
eyes and peace filled his soul, as he resolved not to dis-
turb her unconsciousness again ; " For," said he to him-
self, "she evidently did not understand me, she is but a
child." And he took the pencil and drew and corrected
and instructed, bending over her the while so that he
could almost have encircled her in his arms, not in a
gust of passion, but with the tender care of the guardian
of an imperilled treasure.
And Anna, rejoiced to see the gloom banished from his
250 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
brow, and to find that he no longer confused her by
broken and disjointed phrases, but was quite his old self
again, was more cordial and confiding than ever, and
was not in the least constrained by the Pastor's presence.
He was quite at home in the house, she had known him
fforn childhood, and besides, he seemed absorbed in his
journal.
Yet Siegfried was not reading. He held the page
open, but the letters danced up and down before his
eyes. He turned the leaves mechanically and paused
over the illustrations, but he did not know what he was
looking at, that is, he knew nothing of the picture that
he held in his hand ; he saw clearly only too clearly
the picture opposite him at the table, and heard those
words of veiled tenderness.
Was it really so? was that the boy who had disap-
peared ? Was the brother possessed of an unnatural af-
fection for his sister? Ah, what a look that was! How
he bends over her ! And his tone of voice as he speaks to
her sinks to a whisper! Her hair brushes his cheek. lu
fact, Reichard, in his peace and happiness, had forgotten
the dark shadow that had entered the room, he had for-
gotten Siegfried's presence.
The voice sounds strangely. Of course, the boy has
become a man. The accent, too, is altered, it is no longer
North German. It is, with all its culture, slightly Silesian.
Can a man so utterly forget the tongue of his boyhood ?
" The identity is not certain, there are such wonderful re-
semblances in the world. Perhaps this is one of them.
I must find out still those eyes, that glance. It must
have been vexation at my entrance. I interrupted a de-
claration of love."
Upon the Pastor's mental vision there arises a be-
trothed pair, and Anna, who was to have died years
FOES TO THE DEATH. 251
since, is the possible mother of a new generation. He
thought of the pleasant surprise that might await The-
rese.
The young people, hearing a low, sneering laugh,
looked up. But Siegfried was evidently buried in his
book; he never lifted his eyes from it, and was hardly
aware of their presence.
One more picture was present to his mind's eye.
Brother and sister were standing before the altar, and
the officiating priest in his black gown of office, and the
huge cravat worn by Hamburg clergymen, was about to
unite them. And this priest was himself, and he was
about to commit a deadly sin, for he well knew the tie
that existed between them.
"No, no, never!"
What was to be done ? Should he go to the father
and say, " Your son still lives, and is your daughter's
wooer. It is monstrous, and forces the confession from
me, that I have always known of your son's exist-
ence. Forgive me, I pray. I denied that he was alive,
I heaped him with disgrace, and thrust him forth into the
world wherefore ? I wished to preserve your honest
name unstained. The child was in good hands. I charged
myself with his future. And the money sent me for the
mother ? Impossible I Impossible I" The Pastor could
not confess, he had committed a crime, his whole
course from beginning to end had been criminal.
" Then unite brother and sister 1"
Siegfried groaned aloud.
" Dear Herr Pastor, what is the matter ? Are you
not well?" Anna asked kindly, as she hurried to his
side.
" No, I am not well, the air seems stifling." And he
arose.
252 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
Reichard, too, approached, and Siegfried involuntarily
recoiled.
" Can I not order something for you a cup of tea
or a glass of wine ?" Anna asked.
"No, no, nothing; I will go home. I shall be better
in the open air."
" But you must not go alone. Herr Reichard, you will
surely accompany Herr Siegfried ?"
"Certainly, if you desire it."
"No, no, I will go alone!" Siegfried cried, in dread.
" I will not trouble you further ; I only need fresh air.
Good-evening ! Good-evening 1" And he was gone.
"How very odd he seemed!" said Anna. "He is
usually so polite. Perhaps he was hurt that we paid
him so little attention."
" I think not," said Reichard with a peculiar smile ;
" he did not look offended. Do not worry yourself about
him, he only seemed agitated."
" I will send to inquire how he is to-morrow," said
Anna.
" And allow me to come and see how you are to-
morrow," Reichard rejoined, taking up his hat. He
would not create gossip among the servants by prolong-
ing his tete-a-tete with the young girl, and he had no
desire to await her parents' return. He was so pos-
sessed by conflicting emotions that he longed to be alone.
Strolling slowly along the banks of the Alster, he re-
viewed the occurrences of the evening. He had gone to
Gravensund's house simply to spend a pleasant hour,
with no thought of deciding upon his own or Anna's
future fate.
" Opportunity, the presence of the lovely girl, had
enticed from him words, the import of which he could
not precisely remember, but he was conscious of the
FOES TO THE DEATH. 253
impulse that dictated them, and he felt as if he had
almost wronged Anna's childlike innocence by giving
utterance to them. Yet in spite of all his reasoning
he loved this undeveloped child. Her evasive replies did
not wound him ; they were not a rejection of his affec-
tion, but a remonstrance, unconsciously uttered, against
his attempt to open with a rude touch and unseemly
haste a bud not yet ready to unclose.
He stood leaning against the iron railing upon
the bank. The air was cool and still, and the lighted
lamps around the basin were reflected in the water in
long, wavering lines of brilliancy. The gentle waves
broke off large stars unceasingly from the lower end of
the column of flame upon their surface, but they could
not bear them away; the centre of the lake continued
black and gloomy. Reichard gazed long at the regular
rhythmical dance and ripple of the water as if he looked
for some change in its motiou. But it moved on in the
same dance, whispering the same song, until the mono-
tonous murmur and motion gradually soothed and lulled
the surging tumult in the young man's soul. He turned
to leave the spot.
Immediately behind him there was alighted lamp, and
as he turned he met Siegfried, coming fronl the direction
of the city, face to face.
Reichard touched his hat and would have passed him,
this Siegfried did not allow. Each perhaps had been
occupied in thought with the other, and the probable
consequences of their former meeting, and yet to neither
was this encounter very welcome.
" Ah, Herr Reichard !" Siegfried began, with entire
self-possession, offering his hand to the artist, who, how-
ever, pretended not to see it. " Will you permit me the
22
254 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
pleasure of your society ?" And he instantly turned in
the direction whither Reichard was going.
" I thought you were not well, Herr Pastor ?"
" A mere passing indisposition ; the fresh air and a
little exercise restored me. This Hamburg climate is
treacherous with its sudden changes; I shall never be-
come accustomed to it. Does it agree with you, Herr
Reichard?"
" I am quite inured to all changes of climate," was the
brief reply.
"You are fortunate; you must have had a wide expe-
rience, and probably have seen a great deal of the world ?"
" Of some parts of it," the artist replied, evasively,
quite aware of the Pastor's intentions, and conscious
that he must put force upon himself to reply more
courteously if he would divert his curiosity. " I have
travelled much," he added.
" I wonder that you should have selected Hamburg as
a place of residence."
" It is a beautiful city."
" Perhaps you have relatives here ?"
"No; but my dearest friend resides here."
" Aha, then the city is probably like home to you,
you must have been here often ?"
" Not at all, I have never been here but once before,"
said Reichard, ambiguously, " and it is very doubtful
whether I remain now."
" It is not he," thought Siegfried, and a weight seemed
lifted from his soul. He was silent for a few moments.
" I have been puzzling myself to discover," he began
again, " whom it is you resemble, but I cannot make it
out"
" Indeed! It is scarcely flattering for me that I am so
frequently said to resemble some one else."
FOES TO THE DEATH. 255
" It is so, neverthelesss. I was much struck I really
thought I must have seen you at some past time. You
never were in Hamburg before, you say ?"
" Once before, as I told you," said Reichard, suppress-
ing his irritation at being compelled to undergo this
ordeal, "it was long ago but perhaps, Herr Pastor,
you have been in America, in New York or Baltimore ;
and I passed some time in South America also. We
may have met there."
" No, no." And the Pastor shook his head. " Only
imagine," he continued, pausing just in front of an arched
doorway, above which shone two huge lamps that illu-
minated the entire breadth of the street, " you reminded
me vividly at first of a poor boy whom I have long be-
lieved dead, the welfare of whose soul once caused me
great anxiety."
" Is it possible ? The welfare of my soul can surely
interest you but little."
" He was the son of a letter-carrier," Siegfried con-
tinued, without apparently heeding the artist's words,
although he was really listening attentively to every in-
flection of his voice, " a very misguided boy ; first he
ran away from home for some days, and at last he com-
mitted a theft."
The artist's face betrayed nothing but perfect indiffer-
ence, as if the story could not possibly interest him. The
Pastor observed it keenly, not an eyelash quivered, but
the hand that he did not see was clinched involuntarily ;
and Reichard, fearing lest the rage that possessed him
might cause him to turn pale, and well knowing the
effect of a blaze of gas-light, stared up, as if absent and
tired, at the flame just above them.
" Well, good-night, Herr Reichard," said Siegfried in a
tone of evident relief. " I must go directly home, or my
256 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
Gretchen will show a sullen face, because supper is
waiting. I am tyrannized over by my maid-servant," he
added, laughing.
" Good-night, Herr Pastor," said Keichard briefly, and
went his way. " Vile old hypocrite !" he muttered to
himself. " Patience, patience, a day of reckoning will
come."
CHAPTER V.
A MYSTERIOUS REMITTANCE.
THE day following this meeting, Pastor Siegfried made
his appearance in Frau Kurten's modest apartments,
much to her surprise. He had not visited her for years ;
what could possibly attract him in the society of a
stupid old woman when anxiety concerning her adopted
child no longer drove him to seek her out ? He con-
descended now to make many excuses for his neglect of
his worthy friend ; and although Frau Kurten bad been
greatly offended, and had indulged in many disrespectful
allusions to him behind his back, she was no proof against
the flattery of the reappearance of so distinguished and
well-dressed a visitor, and concealed her chagrin most
effectually. She was even cordial in her welcome, and
when her guest was comfortably established in a cor-
ner of the sofa produced a bottle of wine and some wine-
glasses.
"Aha, my dear Frau Kurten!" said Siegfried, "the
world wags easily with you, I see it in the sparkle of
this wine."
" I would like to show my respect for so rare a guest,"
A MYSTERIOUS REMITTANCE. 257
she replied ; " and why should we deny ourselves the
moderate enjoyment of this one of the gifts of Provi-
dence ?"
"Why, indeed? I am truly rejoiced that the munici-
pal officers of our good city know how to value the ser-
vices of their trusty employes and to reward them
accordingly."
" Municipal officers !" Kurten growled from his arm-
chair. " If they were my sole dependence, I should
barely have bread sufficient to fill our mouths."
" How so ? You speak in riddles."
" No, indeed, Herr Pastor," Frau Kurten said with an
air of importance, " we owe them no thanks for our good
l.ick."
" Good luck ? Have you had a special stroke of luck,
then ?"
" So it seems to us," she replied, while Kurten
drummed with his short, thick fingers upon the table,
nodded his head, and smiled contentedly.
"You really excite my curiosity, my good friends,"
Siegfried said in evident surprise, actually trembling
with eagerness to hear what they had to relate.
Frau Kurten settled herself comfortably in her chair
with the air of one about to impart a most important
communication, and began : " Yes, Heir Pastor, it is,
indeed, a most mysterious affair."
" Mysterious ?"
Kurten nodded with a grin, and his wife repeated,
"A most mysterious affair. About a year ago," she went
on after a most impressive pause, " the postman made
his appearance at our door. Just think, Herr Pastor,
the postman, when my husband was once a kind of post-
man himself, more than two years ago. Many a one of
our neighbours had received letters, but never a one had
22*
258 WET DID HE NOT DIE?
arrived for us before. How should it? We were both
born in Hamburg, and the few relatives that we have all
live in the city. We were very much surprised when
the man came, and I thought to myself, ' He must have
something for Meyer, the tailor, who lives just beside us
here, and has a son in California;' but no, the man said
it was for Herr Nicodemus Kurten, the letter-carrier. That
is my husband's name. Just think, Herr Pastor, what
a mortification it is to have such a name as Nicodemus !
I never could bring myself to call him by it."
Kurten growled out, without a grin, " Go on, wife,
you're too long."
" Don't interrupt me, then," replied his better half.
" Of course the man was right, for there it was written
out plainly on the back of the letter. ' What have you
brought us ?' I asked in surprise, and my old man came
out of his corner to see too.
" ' I bring you a hundred marks,' said the man.
"A hundred marks ! Just imagine our wonder, Herr
Pastor !"
" But who sent it ? Where did it come from ?" Sieg-
fried asked, with scarcely a doubt as to the answer.
"That is the strangest of all, we don't know."
" You don't know ? Was there no letter with it ?"
" Oh, we know where the money came from," Kurten
replied: " it came from London ; the envelope was stamped
from London."
"From London ? And that is all you know?"
"That is all," Kurten made reply. "And stranger
still, after three months another hundred marks arrived,
and two weeks ago a third hundred."
" Is it possible 1" cried Siegfried, who seemed to take
a lively interest in the affair. " Have you formed no
conjecture as to the source whence it all comes ?"
A MYSTERIOUS REMITTANCE. 259
" Yes, we have our suspicions," Frau Kurten began
again. " Can you not think of some one who might have
sent it, Herr Pastor ?"
" The boy ?"
" It can be none other than Richard, I'm convinced."
" He must be alive, then !" cried Siegfried, leaning
back on the sofa, and quite deaf for a few moments to
Frau Kurteu's fluent chatter.
" And whence came the second and third enclosure ?"
he suddenly asked.
" From London too, all three from London."
" And not a line with them ?"
" Not a line."
" It is strange, very strange."
" Yes, you see, Herr Pastor, the boy must be getting
along well in the world, and he feels a little grateful to
his old foster-parents."
" Does he know, then, that you are only his foster-
parents ?"
" No, indeed, he cannot know that."
" Then it is all the more amazing that he does not re-
turn like the prodigal son, crying, ' Forgive me, I am not
worthy to be called thy son !' "
" He was always rather hard," said Frau Kurten ; "but
it seems now as if the reawakening grace of the Lord
had visited him, for he has given proof that he feels how
much he owes us, and how grateful he ought to be."
"It looks now as if be meant to bestow a settled in-
come upon you," said Siegfried.
"So it seems to us. If we could only be sure of it !"
she added, anxiously.
" It must be so," Siegfried replied, " or the money
would not come so regularly."
" It would be too bad not to continue it," said Frau
260 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
Kurten ; " one so easily gets used to things ; it would
almost be better not to have had the money at all than
to have it cut off now."
" Yes," Kurten agreed, " he doesn't need it, and now
we quite reckon upon it."
" Good heavens ! what a care he was !" said his wife.
" When I think of the sleepless nights that he cost me
when he was little ! And the money we spent upon him !
He is only repaying a debt. Herr Pastor, he must have
grown up a fine man ?"
" But the disgrace he brought upon us will never be
wiped out," said Kurten.
" Oh, the world forgives a great deal to a child," said
the Pastor. " And if he should ever return as a wealthy
or distinguished man, everything would be forgotten."
" If he should return !" Frau Kurten repeated, and
in her tone there was no vibration of maternal longing.
In fact, she would have preferred to receive the gift with-
out the presence of the giver. She could not help an
unpleasant self-consciousness whenever she imagined a
meeting with the outcast boy, for she had never been
able entirely to convince herself that the parable of the
prodigal fitted his case.
The Pastor discussed the matter awhile longer with
the pair, endeavouring to colour his sympathy with an
appearance of gratification, but it was hard work, and as
soon as he could he took his departure, promising to
come again shortly. Frau Kurten, with a profusion of
curtsies, agreed to inform him immediately if she ever
% received any intelligence concerning Richard, or his place
of residence. "For," said Siegfried, in conclusion, "as
there is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth
more than over ninety and nine just persons, who need
no repentance, so I should rejoice unspeakably more over
A MYSTERIOUS REMITTANCE. 261
the reclaimed soul of that poor boy than at the sight of a
crowd of children brought up in the Lord from their
infancy. "
And had the Pastor obtained the satisfaction that he
had hoped from this visit ? Not at all, he harboured a
conviction of the identity of the artist Reichard with the
boy Richard Kurten, and yet he was eagerly longing
for some proof to the contrary, and thirsting to find him-
self in error.
He had thought that Reichard's allusion to the story
of a man in search of a name afforded ground for his con-
viction, and now the Kurtens maintained that Richard
was entirely ignorant that he was not their son. Un-
questionably the money came from him, he was assuredly
living. But could the son be in Hamburg and the
money come from London ? The gift proved his grati-
tude, why, then, should he not present himself before
those who had had charge of his childhood, and whose
own son he believed himself to be ? How was all this to
be accounted for ? Oh, very easily. The Pastor knew
too much of the world not to make a shrewd guess at the
young man's motives.
And yet this same young man, although not impelled
by any heart-yearnings, had sought out his old foster-
parents upon the first day of his sojourn in Hamburg.
Reichard could safely rely upon not being recognized,
and had no definite idea as to the result of a possible
meeting with them.
He mounted the narrow stairway and looked around
him upon the landing. " Meyer, Tailor," was inscribed
upon the door to his right ; it was locked. Reichard hesi-
tated for an instant, and then turned and hastily opened
the door upon his left. It opened only a little way, dis-
closing a chain, and the tinkle of a bell was audible. A
262 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
woman in a spotless white cap instantly appeared, and
undid the chain as soon as she saw the gentleman.
" I am looking for Meyer, the tailor," said Reichard ;
"as he is not at home, will you have the kindness to
receive a message for him ? or rather, do you know how
soon he will return ?"
" Oh, it is almost tea-time, he will be here very
shortly," Frau Kurten replied with a curtsy. " Will not
the gentleman wait a few moments ? Pray step in."
" If you will allow me," said Reichard, entering the
room which served for a kitchen.
Yes, it was the same old room, although inclosed within
other walls. There stood the sofa, Frau Kurten's seat,
with the round table before it, and, yes, the same old table-
cover, but very much faded. There was the cupboard
in the corner, and the clock ticking as if it had never once
stopped in all these years. Kurten was not at home.
" You have a very pleasant room here," said Reichard,
glancing towards the flowers in the window.
" We must be content with it, since we can afford no
better," said Frau Kurten, seating herself again at her
mending.
" Have you lived here long ?"
" Seven years."
"And all alone?"
" Oh, no, my husband has gone out to walk. He only
walks for pleasure, he has nothing else to do ; he used
to be a letter-carrier, and has lately been pensioned."
" You have no children ?"
"No."
" That is unfortunate."
" Well, there are various opinions upon that point.
You see, we once adopted a child which was only a day
or so old; its mother died, and it had no father. You
A MYSTERIOUS REMITTANCE. 263
understand me, sir. We took the boy just from charity to
save him from being sent to the poor-house ; but he turned
out an idle, obstinate fellow that there was nothing to be
done with. At last he ran away and was never seen
again."
Yes, this was the very woman, just as Reichard remem-
bered her, bard and heartless. One single, loving in-
tonation, one tone of mournful, compassionate remem
brance, would have won the heart of her listener and
given back to her a son ; but the chords were wanting
to produce such a tone. There was no danger that a
mother's eye should recognize him as in the ballad ; this
woman had never had a mother's eye, or ear, or under-
standing for him. All the bitterness and suffering of his
childhood stirred again in the breast of the man, he could
make no reply.
Frau Kurten ran her needle briskly through the worn
stocking, and, as if she felt it a duty to sustain the con-
versation, continued, " What good did I ever get from
the boy ? None. First, he brought me care and anxiety,
and then trouble and disgrace ; and I thought I was
rearing a prop for my old age. I wish I had never laid
eyes on him."
" I can wait no longer for Herr Meyer," said the
stranger, rising and going towards the door without
responding to Frau Kurten's ejaculation.
She thought him scantly courteous, nevertheless she
asked him if he would leave a message.
" No, no, thank you. I will come again, I am in
haste now. Good-afternoon."
And he was gone, not thrust forth forsaken and home-
less but relieved from every breath of self-reproach.
A few days afterwards the Kurtens received the first
remittance of money through the post.
264 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
CHAPTER VI
THE PRODIGAL SON. ANCIENT ALLIES.
FOR some weeks Gravensund had been evidently
depressed, for Willy was causing him great uneasiness.
The boy squandered money most recklessly, and his
father's serious and affectionate remonstrances were of
no avail to check his extravagance. Willy promised
amendment continually, only to plunge deeper into debt
in the course of a month or two, excusing his folly by
referring to the example of the young noblemen, his
comrades.
" I will pay your debts this time," his father wrote
to him, " and this you owe chiefly to your mother's inter-
cession, but remember it is for the last time. I have
never been a stern father to you, my son, perhaps I
ought to have been less indulgent; but you know that
I never break my word. Therefore when I tell you
that I pay your debts for the last time, I appeal to your
sense of honour and to your filial affection to keep you
from incurring any for the future. I will refuse no rea-
sonable request of yours, but I will not sustain you in
any unworthy rivalry of the titled idlers and spendthrifts
with whom you may associate. I have a poor opinion
of the class to which they belong, and entreat you to
choose your friends more wisely."
Nevertheless, after the lapse of a few weeks, another
begging letter arrived ; this time, however, it was a
private epistle addressed to Therese.
THE PRODIGAL SON. ANCIENT ALLIES. 265
"My charming mamma," thus it ran, "you know
that when I'm in a deuce of a scrape I always turn to
you, for you have some idea of what is befitting a young
fellow of my position and future estate. Why in the
world should I pinch and starve now only to amass money
for my old age when I cannot enjoy it? The governor
doesn't understand this, and so I come to you. In short,
mamma dear, I am in debt, and the Philistines are upon
me. A fellow must make some sort of a show to hold
his own among these cursed ' vons ' that are so plen-
tiful here. I'm thinking of buying a, patent of nobility
when I come of age, my money ought to do that for me,
and if it can only take effect for a generation or two back,
my lovely mamma shall be a von Gravensuud. Jt sounds
something like to be Wilhelm von Gravensund of Uhlen-
horst. Magnificent, 'pon my honour ! Now, however, I'm
in debt, and, as the governor declares it's of no use to go
to him, I've no doubt you will get me out of the scrape
this time. Send me three hundred thalers immediately,
and as much more as soon as you can, and that will patch
me up for a long while, and enable me to sustain the
honour of the name of Gravensund," etc.
"Well done, Master Willy !" said Therese as she folded
up the letter, an evil smile upon her handsome face. " You
have about fulfilled my expectations, and you think to
cajole me with flattery 1 You are indeed a credit to your
father !"
Soon afterwards Gravensund entered the room, looking
anxious, but nevertheless tolerably cheerful. He seemed
determined to cast aside the cares that preyed upon
him with regard to his son's conduct and Anna's health,
and discussed new embellishments and alterations in
his house, to all of which Therese lent a willing ear,
suggesting a journey as a pleasant means of distraction.
' 23
266 WV/r DID HE NOT DIE?
The idea pleased him, and they were arranging a route
for a pleasure-trip when a servant announced Madame
Gravensund's dressmaker.
" Show her into the next room, I will see her imme-
diately," Therese replied.
She then arose, and, drawing her handkerchief from
her pocket, did not apparently notice that Willy's letter
fell out at the same time, and lay upon the carpet at
Herr Gravensund's feet. As she left the room, she
observed her husband stoop and pick up the paper. In
some surprise Gravensund recognized his son's hand-
writing, and of course he opened the note instantly ;
there could be no possible reason why he should not
do so.
His face flushed crimson as he read the first lines ;
as he finished the precious epistle, the flush was succeeded
by a ghastly pallor, and the hand that held the paper
dropped sadly at his side. It was not only the matter
of the contents that aroused the father's anger ; the hus-
band was offended by the manner adopted towards his
wife by his son. It was a taint upon her character that
he should dare to address her thus.
Therese had foreseen this, but it was not to be avoided,
and it would be an easy matter to give a plausible ex-
planation of the reckless tone of the letter to her indolent,
docile husband.
When she returned after her convenient absence, she
found her husband still sitting where she had left him,
his head propped upon his hands.
" Dearest Wilhelm, what is the matter ? Are you
ill ?" she asked in accents of terror and anxiety as he
lifted to her a pale, reproachful countenance.
Instead of replying, Gravensund pointed to the open
letter.
THE PRODIGAL SON. ANCIENT ALLIES. 267
Therese hastily put her hand in her pocket as if to satisfy
herself of its loss. "Ah, she exclaimed, "how careless
I am ! I would not have had you see that letter for the
world !"
" Are you in the habit of receiving letters from Willy,
of which I know nothing?" asked Gravensund very
gravely.
" Yes ; but, dearest Wilhelm, do not let us discuss the
matter now, it agitates you so."
" I must have a clear understanding between my
wife and myself, between my son and myself. Have you
ever sent him money before ?"
" Small sums, sometimes," replied Therese, perfectly
unabashed.
" Good heavens !" exclaimed her husband, suddenly
attacked by an ugly suspicion, " are you not helping the
boy on in the road to ruin, and deceiving me lest I should
interfere ?"
"Wilhelm!"
" Yes, yes. Who was always so severe in her stric-
tures upon the boy when he caused me such anxiety ?"
a j
" And who strengthened and upheld me in my just
determination to put a stop to his extravagance, and to
refuse his eternal demands for money ?"
11 j
" And now you would have sent the boy money your-
self ! And such a sum ! How would you have procured
it without my knowledge ? What answer would you
have made him ?"
" I should have answered him as his father would
have had me ; I should have sent him no money, and
should have acquainted you as tenderly as I could with
his application to me. I should not have shown you his
268 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
letter, for you must feel as I do that its tone is insulting
to me as your wife and Willy's mother."
" Yes, yes, it is insulting," replied Gravensund, quite
diverted from the idea that Therese was at all compro-
mised by the letter.
"I have sent him a little money from time to time :
thanks to your liberality, I could easily spare it ;,and what
was any trifle it might have procured for me in com-
parison with saving you from one throb of anxiety ?"
" Well, my dear Thei'ese, you meant well, but see
what it has led to ! The boy evidently thinks you
secretly take his part against me."
" Not in the least, such an idea has never occurred to
him. He does not like to beg least of all from his
father's former housekeeper," Gravensund started indig-
nantly, " and he hides his reluctance behind the mask
of insolence. His letter is insolent, and I am to blame
for it, inasmuch as I was too unwilling to let you know
of his former applications to me. There you are quite
right, dearest Wilhelm ; but try to put yourself in the
difficult position of a stepmother. Her first object is, of
course, to gain the affection of her stepchildren. Where
theif own mother might fearlessly chide them, and even
accuse them to their father, the stepmother must soothe
and explain, and mediate. I would willingly have medi-
ated between your son and yourself; still, while I have
censured him to you, I have used far stronger language
to Willy himself. Now that you have just had this
revelation, I must confess to you that Willy's case seems
to me hopeless. I always knew that his mental gifts
were small, that he had inherited neither his mother's
piety nor his father's sense of honour, but I did trust that
it would be in my power to aid in making him a respect-
able, useful member of society. I have utterly failed.
THE PRODIGAL SON. ANCIENT ALLIES. 269
This wretched military career has been his ruin. It has
fostered and developed with frightful rapidity all the
dormant evil that was in him. I have seen it when he
has visited us from time to time. He was on his guard
in your presence, and I was not a little annoyed by his
insisting upon making me his confidante with regard to
his affairs, his gambling and dissipation, all which were
to be carefully concealed from his father. And yet, I let
him talk at first, finding some comfort in the degree of
candour and open-hearteduess that his confessions pre-
supposed, and I tried to remonstrate with him without
disgusting him. But it did no good, and my forbearance
is at an end. I assure you I should not have assisted
him this time. As you say, how could I ? I certainly
could not have sold my jewels or contracted any debts
myself. The demand that he makes is a proof of Willy's
utter incapacity to appreciate the value of money, 1 tell
you he will never, never learn any better !"
The unfortunate father sat still, his elbows resting on
his knees, and his face buried in his hands, enduring as
best he might the shock of his wife's merciless disclosures.
Each blow told. Gravensuud knew that Therese was
right. He had known that his son was thoughtless and
frivolous: he knew now that he was worse than that.
Therese went on to enter into details which were
known to her concerning his son's mode of life, in-
flicting still further wounds, although he made no reply,
except to ejacu-late by turns, " I had rather have seen him
in his coffin !" and " What is to be done now ?"
Tberese allowed this last ejaculation to go unheeded
until she was directly appealed to for advice, and then
she replied: "In your place, I should do nothing; you
can do nothing. Willy applied to me, let me answer his
letter; You shall read my reply. I will forbid all further
23*
270 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
secret applications to me, I will inform him that I shall
show you everything: that he writes to me in future, that
I repent my former indulgence, and forbid his ever asking
me for money again, since his allowance is most liberal,
and should suffice for all his requirements."
Gravensund sat silent for awhile. " Yes," he said, at
last, "that will be best. And yet we might make one
more trial. Do not say that he must never appeal to us
again, only that you can send him no more money, and
advise him to turn to me with a frank and full confession,
and a genuine determination to amend his life, and I will,
in spite of my word, consider mercy before justice this last
time. Good God! he is my only son." And a great
sob burst from the breast of the unhappy father.
Even Therese felt a touch of human sympathy. She
had gained her point.
" Well," she replied, " I will do as you say. It is
possible that your son may reform ; but, I confess, I
have very little hope of him."
" At all events, I must see to it that I have nothing to
reproach myself with, 5 ' said Gravensund ; and the matter
was at an end for the present.
The Gravensunds were once more established in town
for the winter ; the physician had decided that upon
Anna's account it would be imprudent to spend the first
winter in a house so recently built as the villa on the
TJhlenhorst.
Reichard rejoiced at the change, for the old house in
town possessed a peculiar charm for him, although all was
so different there from the image he had retained in the
memories of his childhood. In place of the three chil-
dren, who, in spite of the strict puritanic rule of former
days, had asserted their right to the noise and gayety
THE PRODIGAL SON. ANCIENT ALLIES. 271
of childhood, there was DOW only the pale, fragile Anna,
and every one moved about so noiselessly that a door
was seldom even heard to creak.
Her father surrounded his darling with his affection
and care. All this precaution seemed to Reichard to
give her illness an existence more in the imagination of
the household than in reality. He could not see that
Anna grew at all worse ; delicate she was, it is true, but
be could not discover that she had any organic disease.
The girl found the keenest delight in her pencil ; too
much reading made her head ache, and she had never
been sufficiently strong to cultivate music to any extent.
Reichard gave her every encouragement in his power,
devoting so much time and attention to her that he won
her father's lasting gratitude. And sometimes, after hours
of unrestrained intercourse with her, when he could sit
beside her and guide her pencil and converse freely, he
felt conscious that he desired nothing further than the
continuance of the present relation between them. There
was no longer a throb of passion iu his genuine affec-
tion for her. He rarely, if ever, saw her alone, for
Anna was not fond of solitude, and, besides, Therese
watched the pair with a jealousy that was Argus-eyed,
and could not be concealed from Reichard's observant
apprehension.
In fac^, Therese had an instinctive aversion for the
young artist, who took no pains to propitiate her, although
he was perfectly courteous in his reserve towards her.
She felt towards him much as she had towards the boy
Richard Kurten. " He does not seem to be conscious of
the privilege that he enjoys in visiting people of wealth
and position on familiar terms." And yet she could not
but perceive that he continued to be held in such regard
and esteem by her husband that she was forced to ac-
272 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
knowledge herself powerless against him, inasmuch as she
had no actual grounds for her antipathy, and as she had
a character for justice and impartiality to sustain.
There was one person, however, whose distaste for the
young man even exceeded her own, and that was Pastor
Siegfried. It really seemed as though the ancient allies
would resume their old footing towards each other in
common cause against Reich ard. At all events, Sieg-
fried's visits became more frequent, and he sought op-
portunities for speaking with Therese alone. He seemed
driven of the spirit to haunt the spot where his crime
would probably be consummated, to watch the progress
of affairs there, only taking especial care to encounter
the artist as seldom as possible.
He used to make constant and anxious inquiry after
the state of Anna's health, and would often sit lost in
thought for some time when the replies to his questions
were tolerably favourable. Therese, seeing how an en-
couraging report annoyed him, amused herself by dwell-
ing upon any change for the better with great emphasis.
He was not as guarded as usual when alone with her,
although he was never, of course, frank with her, for the
nature of his secret was such that he dared not even whis-
per it to the walls of his own room. And Therese did
not suspect it and could not understand him ; she could not
have understood him even had she recognized Richard
Kurten, which was not the case. She had forgotten the
boy she never thought of him, her dulled conscience
had never pricked her with the memory of the Portu-
guese coin. She had not the slightest fear that he
would ever be seen again, for her he had no existence.
"I cannot understand you, Herr Pastor," she said
once when Siegfried had given utterance to a passionate
expression of irritation. " Why should you grudge a
THE PRODIGAL SON. ANCIENT ALLIES. 2^3
respectable son-in-law to a man whose only son has
turued out so worthless ?"
"Do not mention it, I will not hear a word of it:
the thought of it will drive me mad. Dear Therese
my valued friend my excellent Madame Gravensund
you have told me hundreds of times that you thought
me a truly wise man. Now, hear me solemnly declare
that misfortune is at hand, I hear it approaching. Mis-
fortune for Graveusund, for the young couple, and for
you yes, for you. As for me, the whole matter would
be entirely indifferent to me if I had not such a deep in-
terest in you and all that concerns you. I see further
than you think. This marriage cannot must not take
place. Banish this artist from the house at all hazards."
" That is perfectly impossible," said Therese with a
shrug of her comely shoulders.
" Then, oh, then, why did this girl live ? Why this
refinement of care for her this constant watchfulness ?
What can it effect but a prolongation of misery and suf-
fering ? She is doomed ; she had better die than
Yes, she must die she must !"
Therese looked at him with her cold, inquiring eyes,
he was a riddle to her.
".Oh," he continued, recollecting himself, " I am dis-
traught, I have pondered and studied too much of late.
I think I am growing old ; nothing goes as I would have
it nowadays, and it is hard to bear, I cannot bear it.
Nothing so exasperates me as to fail in what I under-
take. That is all that is the matter now ; and to know
that my aims are the truest, and yet to be powerless to
iittain them, except through means that are dangerous."
Here he glanced hastily and loweringly at Therese, who
shrank involuntarily. " Oh, the labour of my whole life
is like to be in vain I"
2Y4 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
" You once, many years ago, Herr Pastor," said
Therese, with a tinge of contempt in her tone, " imposed
a task upon yourself, and took me into your confidence
with regard to it, the task concerned the Gravensund
estate. Is this the labour to which you allude ?"
" Yes, yes, and yet, no. I can give you no moi'e
exact answer."
" Is it possible that you can still occupy your brain
with the visionary scheme of appropriating this colossal
fortune to the church or to religious institutions ?"
"I have grown old over it, but I reckoned wisely.
The boy has ruined himself, and the girl well, the girl
is sure to die."
" And I, Herr Pastor ?" asked Therese, standing erect.
" My dear friend, you are childless. Can you should
you not recognize the hand of the Lord, and acknowledge
his name?"
Therese laughed aloud. " I pray you, my excellent
friend," said she, "spare yourself the trouble of such
allusions. I think you and I may acknowledge to each
other that the thought of the Lord has very little to do
with our hopes and aims."
"We'll not discuss that; but rely upon it you will
have to content yourself with a pittance if Anna marries
this miserable artist, you will be pensioned off, and the
entire capital left to their children."
" I thank you for your obliging interest in my affairs,"
Therese rejoined, with a sneer, " only I beg you not to
distress yourself about them, Herr Pastor. Your want
of ordinary insight surprises me, you forget that I
am two years older than Gravensund. I shall never,
believe me, be silly enough to speculate upon an inherit-
ance which will in all probability never be mine."
Siegfried looked at her inquiringly.
THE PRODIGAL SON. ANCIENT ALLIES. 275
" I know what I am saying ; I am far too comfortable
as a wife ever to wish to be a widow."
The Pastor struck his forehead with his open palm,
and walked restlessly to and fro without speaking a
word, while Therese followed him with her eyes in a
vain endeavour to guess at what was passing in the
hidden depths of his soul. It could not be his plans
concerning the Gravensund estate that agitated him
thus; he was far too keen-sighted to have cherished them
of late years. And be had until recently shown such
apathy with regard to Anna's marrying that Therese
herself had assumed the mask of indifference, sooner than
give him a chance to triumph in her annoyance.
What was it that robbed the Pastor of all his self-
possession ?
Suddenly he stopped before her as if he had just
arrived at a firm determination.
" Tell me, then, where are your eyes, where is your
wonted perception, that you do not recognize this man
who calls himself Reichard ?"
" Recognize ? What do you mean ?"
" Has it never occurred to you that you have seen him,
known him, before ?"
"No."
" Where is your vaunted power of observation ? Be-
think yourself."
" To tell the truth, I have sometimes felt " And
Therese passed her hand across her brow. " But, no, I
have no suspicion. Who is he ?"
" Richard Kurten I" said Siegfried, low in her ear,
and his hoarse tone had a serpent>like hiss in it.
Therese started involuntarily. She knew instantly
that the Pastor was right.
" Aha !" she exclaimed triumphantly. " At last, my
276 ' WHY DID HE NOT DIEf
excellent sir ! Now you ,are in nay power. Your name is
the name of a felon in this house; therefore you repudiate
it : you would rob it of a treasure far more precious than
a paltry coin, but I will unmask you now, as I unmasked
you then, and you shall be thrust from the door in dis-
grace. Oh, I was right when I told Gravensund that I
mistrusted that man, but he is blind and My
cares are at an end, however; he will never give his
daughter to a man who has entered his house to deceive
him with a false name. I need not open my maternal
arms to one whom I long to destroy : I am still mistress
of the situation, I, Therese Graveusund. Herr Pastor,
I thank you."
Siegfried had been gazing at her in unfeigned amaze-
ment. This view of the case was entirely unexpected.
" Stay ! for the love of Heaven, Therese ! Are you
mad ? What are you going to do ?" he cried, stamping
his foot, and losing every vestige of self-control.
" What to do ? To call him boldly by his name, and
when he stands crushed before me, bid him be thankful
that we do not summon the law to our assistance in dis-
gracing him. He who enters an honest house under an
assumed name may have to answer for it in a court of
justice, but we will be merciful, we will be magnani-
mous."
"Magnanimous ? Your hatred of him has turned your
brain, fool that you are !" cried the Pastor. " Do you
suppose that the man can be disgraced by the fault of
the child ? Do you suppose he will be as easily crushed
and set aside as formerly ? The less said about that old
story the better, as you well know !"
" What can be proved against me ?" said Therese ; but
her tone was far less confident and exulting.
"Proved? Nothing. A strong suspicion, however,
THE PRODIGAL SON. ANCIENT ALLIES. 277
might be attached to Madame Therese Gravensund.
No, no, the revival of that old story would be your
ruin."
" Must he be unmolested, then, in his career of deceit ?
Why should he change his name, except for shame of his
crime and of his low parentage ?"
" You talk like a foolish child," said Siegfried with a
gesture of extreme irritation. "Be assured that his
papers and passport will bear any scrutiny, the man
is no vagabond, no adventurer : any dolt can see that.
And as for his name, do you suppose for one instant that
if I were inclined to-morrow to publish a book, to go
upon the stage, or to turn artist like this Reichard, under
the name of Hans Mu'ller or Vech Schulze, there could
be found a man let alone a court of justice to take ex-
ception to it ? Do you not know that the successful
among mankind may take what incognito they please ?
It amazes me that you should imagine that I wished by
my revelation to furnish you with a weapon against the
man. I wished to give you one more reason why this
marriage must be prevented."
" Prevent it, then, Herr Pastor !" replied Therese.
" You had your own reasons for hating that boy, what
was the mystery ?"
"What mystery?"
" Why was he separated from his parents ? Why was
he sent to the House of Correction ?"
" As if you did not know, Therese I Because it was
necessary at all hazards to banish him from this house."
" You were never frank with me about it : any dolt
could see that, and I know you well, Herr Pastor."
" You know nothing ; you may suspect what you please.
Have I not been proved in the right? I was a true
prophet. This comes of that early intercourse. Now,
24
218 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
what is to be done ? - Propose some plan of extrication
from this difficulty."
Therese was silent for a few minutes.
" There is a fatality in it," she said, at last. " If I
may not call him by his true name, and so bring him to
shame, what have we effected by our former schemes ?
This is the result. What must be, must. Affairs may
not turn out according to our forebodings. So much the
better, then. I was prepared to await their development
in patience, and I see nothing else to be done."
" But, my dear friend, you must know of some means."
" No, no, Therese Gravensund will not compromise her-
self in any way."
" There is no reason why she should. Let us discuss
the matter."
" I will risk nothing absolutely nothing !"
"Therese Jager was more courageous."
" Because she had less to lose."
" But you have something to gain."
" Hm scarcely ! If Anna ever marries, I shall be sure
to detest my son-in-law. I might dislike another less,
perhaps, than this Reichard, but who knows !" And who
can foresee the event of all this, if old stories should
come to light or Anna should die ? Let come what may,
I will not interfere."
" Is that your final decision ?"
" My final decision."
"Woe to the man who puts faith in women !" cried
the Pastor, in a fresh outbreak of anger. "When it
comes to the point, they always lack the courage to face
the consequences of their actions." And he pulled his
hat down over bis brows and hurried from the house.
He paid no heed to the crowds passing and repassing
in the brilliantly-lighted streets, but walked on mechan-
THE PRODIGAL SON. ANCIENT ALLIES. 219
ically, as in a dream, and finally found himself, he scarcely
knew how, at home in his study.
His table was covered with medical works, strangely
enough for a teacher of theology, and several lay open
at treatises upon diseases of the lungs and chest. Sieg-
fried tried to read, but it was impossible ; he leaned back
wearily in his chair, and said to himself, " It is hopeless.
Even Therese will not assist me. I must unite brother
and sister I must. It is a sin. What is sin ? An idea
of the mind. The Incas of Peru married their own
sisters for many succeeding generations. The code of
morals varies with climate and nationality. With some
it is a duty to espouse a brother's widow ; with others, a
marriage with a dead wife's sister is forbidden. A hun-
dred' years ago it was a vile disgrace for cousins to
marry ; in our enlightened times the brother may marry
his sister's daughter.
" What is sin ?
" Does circumstance make sin ? Can that be a sin to-
day which was not such in the infancy of the world, and
did not God give Zillah as wife to Abel, and Ada to
Tubal Cain ?
"Then I should commit no sin? No, no sin, but a
crime, branded and punished as such by an earthly
tribunal. Before it, then, this earthly justice, I must
stand or fall. What have I to fear ? Hm nothing. I
have pondered it hundreds of times. ReLghard does not
dream that he is only the foster-child of the Kurtens,
and they have no idea who is his father, so much is cer-
tain. I am perfectly secure ; I ought to be content.
Ought ! But it is impossible. There is nothing to be
done but to follow Therese's example, and let affairs
turn out as they must. She will not, and I can not,
interfere.
280 WI1Y DID HE NOT DIE?
" If it comes to the worst, I must unite the brother
and sister.
" Still perhaps I am mistaken with regard to Reichard's
identity." And for the hundredth time the Pastor re-
capitulated in his mind the pros and cons of the matter
without arriving at any more satisfactory result than
before.
CHAPTER VIL.
THE FORMER PLAYMATE. THE FUGITIVE.
SELDOM, if ever, did Reichard pay morning visits, for
the morning light was best for his work, and he could
not waste it. But to-day everything went wrong in the
studio; his colours were not to his liking; there was
something out of the way in the sdnsbine ; and at last he
threw aside his palette and brushes, doffed his working-
costume, and, for reasons best knov to himself, set out
for Margarethen Street.
The ladies, so said the servant, were at home; and he
was shown into the room where Anna was usually to be
found, and where she had contrived a cosy little corner
among her flowers as at the Uhlenhorst. Reichard
knocked and entered rather hastily.
Yes, it was she at last, her dark-brown hair wound in
thick braids around her head, and those eyes, whose frank
determination he so well remembered, and which now
rested upon him with a look of inquiry. It was Netta,
who, when he did not speak, asked simply, " Whom have
I the honour to "
THE FORMER PLAYMATE. THE FUGITIVE. 281
" Ah !" He interrupted her with a shade of embar-
rassment. " Fraulein Netta, I presume ? I am the artist
Reichard."
" Oh, I have heard of you," Netta rejoined, " and my
sister has spoken with delight of the progress that she
has made by your kindly aid."
"I have had great pleasure in any service I may have
done her. How charmed Fraulein Anna must be that
you are here at last! You cannot imagine^how she has
longed for you."
" I too have looked forward to this time with infinite
pleasure. My duties keep me so long from home. This,
you know, is my joliday-time."
"And how do you find your sister ?"
Netta's eyes suddenly filled with tears. " She does
not seem well to me. I see lines of suffering in her face,
although I have very little experience with invalids."
" Surely your over-anxiety misleads you," Reichard
replied, not able to repress the misgivings that Netta's
words caused in his own mind.
" No, no," she said, shaking her head, " it is not only
her looks that distress me, she is weaker, and spends all
the morning upon her couch. You and our other visitors
generally see her in the afternoon, when she is com-
paratively bright and well."
Reichard's eyes sought the ground, and he said no-
thing for a moment. Netta's words touched him with a
keen sense of pain. Perhaps she suspected this, for she
continued after a moment,
" She is so much better in the evening that I can-
not but think it best to amuse and interest her con-
tinually."
" I agree with you ; and surely, Fraulein Netta, no
one possesses such power in this respect as yourself,
24*
282 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
for Fraulein Anna is fonder of no one, except her father,
than of you."
" Oh, yes, I trust my stay here will do her good."
" She needs feminine companionship ; every woman
stands in such need, especially an invalid, and I doubt
I do not know whether she is sufficiently well provided
in this respect."
"I should say," replied honest Netta with a slight
smile, "that you knew perfectly well that she was ill
provided in this respect."
"You are right. Your mother, of course, does all
that she can ; but the two natures are radically dis-
similar."
" Radically dissimilar, indeed," repeated Netta. " Well,
I shall be here for three weeks at least, and we shall
see," she added as Reichard rose to address Madame
Graveusund, who just then entered the room.
It was the first time that Therese had seen the painter
since Siegfried's astounding revelation concerning him ;
but her cool courtesy her air of condescension gave
no hint of what filled her thoughts. No one would have
suspected that those large gray eyes concealed beneath
their veil of indifference a hatred keen to penetrate the
disguise of her opponent.
Reichard, on his part, was satisfied that he had allayed
the Pastor's suspicions, else why had he not alluded to
the discovery that he had made ? And although the
painter had had some thoughts of emerging from his in-
cognito, there seemed to be no necessity or obligation for
him to do so. Perhaps he had cherished a half-formed
hope or desire that some eyes might be sufficiently in-
terested to remember the boy in the man, for there was
bitterness in the reflection that there were none such
for him in the world. What had he been to these
THE FORMER PLAYMATE. THE FUGITIVE. 283
people as a boy ? A poor neighbour's child, admitted to
the house as a playmate upon sufferance, nothing more.
But Netta, his whilom staunch friend and partisan, whose
memory he had so cherished ? He had been eager to
know whether she would not remember him ; " but e'en
to the maiden his face was strange," although he declared
to himself that he should have recognized her at any
time in any place.
The transformation, however, of the smooth, girlish face
of the boy into the bearded, bronzed countenance of the
man, is infinitely greater than that which takes place with
a girl ; and yet Netta might have soon detected her
former playmate if she coul'd have seen him in his old
home at the letter-carrier's, while here in her father's
house all links of association were wanting to connect
him with the past.
Still, it was as if the old sympathy that the girl had
cherished for the boy were truer than memory, for now
that she saw him Netta comprehended perfectly how
this stranger had obtained such a familiar footing in her
father's house, that every other word of Anna's was " Herr
Reichard," and she was even gratified when her sister
said, " Netta draws ever so much better than I ;" for al-
though it cost her modesty something of a struggle to
open her sketch-books for his inspection, she could not
but be conscious of a certain charm in occupying a like
position with her sister, towards him, and in availing
herself of his proficiency in his art.
" If you remain here, Fraulein Netta," Reichard said
one afternoon, when they were accidentally alone together
for a few moments, " I can assure you of brilliant progress
in your drawing, for you have an exact eye and a steady
hand."
284 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
" Are you serious ?"
" Perfectly so. But Art is a stern master, and of course
very little, or rather nothing can be done in only a few
hours weekly."
" Perhaps I may remain," said Netta, with hesitation,
not meeting the artist's eye.
" Fraulein Netta, you will remain ?" Reichard ex-
claimed ; and for one instant he caught her upward
glance. " Oh, what a pleasure for Fraulein Anna !"
" Yes," replied Netta, slightly confused, " it is for her
sake that I shall stay, if I do stay."
" Do not say if !"
" I have consulted the physician," Netta continued,
without apparently heeding the interruption, " and al-
though he gave me evasive answers, I believe it to be
my duty to be with my sister, Anna is so lonely without
me," she added, and her voice faltered.
" I am distressed that the reason for your remaining
should be such a sad one," replied Reichard; "but you
are certainly in the right, for, even if there is no cause
for alarm, if Fraulein Anna recovers her health, as I be-
lieve she must, you will help her through a long, and
otherwise lonely winter. You do not return to Kiel at
all, then ?
" Only for a very short time, for a week or two. It
would be inconvenient for me to leave so suddenly, there
is much to be arranged and decided upon."
" Of course, when do you go ?"
" Day after to-morrow ; but," she added, suddenly
recollecting herself, " I must not take you thus into my
counsel, when I have not given my father or Anna any
decided answer as yet."
Reichard's eyes sparkled with delight, but he only
said, " I thank you."
THE FORMER PLAYMATE. THE FUGITIVE. 285
Netta departed, conscious that her return would gratify
Herr Gravensund as well as Anna, for her foster-father had
long since forgotten his irritation towards her, and was
entirely resigned to her course of action, especially since
he perceived how entirely dissimilar were the charac-
ters of Netta and his wife, so unsympathetic were they
that Netta never could bring herself to address Therese as
" mamma:" to her she was always Madame Gravensund.
It was hard for her to leave Kiel, for she had passed
happy years there ; still, she looked forward to returning
thither in the spring. If Anna should be better, she could
not feel like making the Gravensund house her home ;
and if what she so dreaded should occur, the death of
her fondly loved sister, there would be no place for her
beneath the same roof with her father's former house-
keeper.
The pension was situated at the foot of the eminence
partly bounded by the bay of Kiel. Here were charming
country-seats in the midst of cultivated gardens, and
commanding a prospect of great loveliness. Before them
lay the picturesque bay, its waters usually glassy in their
perfect calm, and bearing upon its breast a fleet of gay boats
and skiffs lying peacefully at anchor. Behind the houses
arose a gently sloping hill clothed with the majestic
growth peculiar to the shores of the Eastern sea: gigantic
beeches wreathed their " old fantastic roots" deep in the
mossy earth, and spread abroad boughs so vigorous and
well grown that they afforded a dense shade in summer
even with the sun at noontide height.
Now, however, the trees stand almost bare of their
leaves, and a driving storm of wind and rain threatens
soon to leave them entirely so.
It was one of those November days when the dark,
286 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
cloudy heavens can scarcely be discerned through misty,
dripping window-panes. Netta was busied with her
packing and arranging, as open drawers, and ward-
robes, and two huge trunks in her room plainly testi-
fied. Part of her effects were to remain behind her for
awhile, and the greater portion was to be taken with her
to Hamburg ; consequently there was much to be done.
Here lay a pile of worn clothes to be given away, there
a heap of papers to be burned, while those others were to
be consigned to Fraulein Wildhof's safe keeping. She
came across some things that were cast aside as utterly
worthless, and not a few that she hesitated to destroy,
and finally put back again in their old places. How many
such trifles we carry with us through life ! an end of rib-
bon, a few written lines, a faded flower, or some such in-
significant memento! The article has lost all its real
significance, for we forget it until chance drops it into
our hands ; but, why destroy it ? Grant it a quiet resting-
place where it has lain hitherto, because it was once
dear to us. Those who come after us will make merry
over such old odds and ends, and there will be short
work with them one day.
Thus Netta came upon a child's hymn-book, a little
volume that had once been in daily use, but which she
had not seen for years. What should she do with it ?
If she had known any child who would have valued it,
she would have given it away. But she could not burn
it or tear it up. Oh, no, it was a relic of that happy
period of her childhood when the Gravensund house in
Hamburg had been her home, and her hopes and aspira-
tions had not soared beyond it. She held it in her hand
for a moment, turning over the leaves mechanically. A
sheet of paper fell from between them, and lay upon the
folds of her dress on the floor. She stooped and picked
THE FORMER FLATMATE. TUE FUGITIVE. 287
it up. It was a drawing by an unskilled hand, but yet
pretty enough. A little vessel was skimming the surface
of the water with set sail, the helmsman at- his post ;
a man, with his hand shading his eyes, looking keenly
ahead ; and a boy, with long curls waving in the wind,
busy with some nets. It was the little sketch that Rich-
ard had made after his Blankenese trip, and had given to
Netta. She recognized it instantly ; it had always been
kept in the hymn-book, and had been laid away with it.
There must have been something strangely interest-
ing to her in the little picture, for she seemed suddenly
to have bethought herself of a forgotten name for which
she had been searching her memory in vain for days.
She first looked at the sketch, then put it back in the
book again, only to take it out once more, and fall into a
reverie over it as if the insignificant pencil-drawing had
a long story to tell. At last she resolutely closed the
book, and laid it with the things that she had decided to
take with her to Hamburg.
After this, her attention wandered, and she did not
progress very rapidly in her work. Night, too, had set
in, her candles were already lighted, and she determined
to join her friends in the drawing-room.
Was that a knock at her window ? Strange ! her room
was on the second floor, she could see no one, and think-
ing she must have been mistaken she turned to leave the
apartment.
Then came a louder knock than before, and Netta,
with all her courage, stood terrified in the middle of the
room, hesitating whether she should rush out for assist-
ance or go bravely to. the window and try to pierce the
gloom outside.
" Netta 1 Netta !" now reached her ears, uttered in half-
suppressed tones, and accompanied by a renewal of the
288 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
knocking, while she could plainly discern a face pressed
against the pane outside, and peering into the room.
She advanced a step towards it.
" Open the window, Netta, for God's sake ! I can
Btand it no longer. It is I, oh, be quick !"
She went directly to the window, the voice, the out-
line of the face outside, seemed familiar to her.
" Who is it ?" she cried hastily, her hand upon the
bolt of the window-frame.
" I, Willy, oh, open the window !" And in an instant
it was open, and Willy was in the room.
" Wilry ! What is the matter ? What do you want ?
What has happened ?" asked Netta, in great agitation.
" You must save me, Netta, you must hide me some-
where ! You must give me some money, I am a fugi-
tive," Willy gasped forth in low tones, while he cast a
terrified glance around the apartment, as if in search of
some corner that might serve him for a place of conceal-
ment.
" A fugitive ?" Netta repeated. " Oh, what will be-
come of our father ? What have you done ?"
" Netta, I entreat you for the love of Heaven do not
torture me with questions !" Willy implored, his teeth
fairly chattering with agitation. " A duel but help
me, save me 1"
Involuntarily Netta recoiled. Was her brother's hand
stained with blood ? was he a murderer ? But she ban-
ished every such question from her mind on the instant ;
he was the playmate of her childhood, the son of those
who had been father and mother to her, who had given
the orphan a loving, tender home. However poor an
opinion she had herself entertained of Willy, although
he had declared emphatically that he acknowledged no
schoolmistress for a sister, it made no difference now,
THE FORMER PLAYMATE. THE FUGITIVE. 289
he bad come to her entreating her aid, and he should
have it at all hazards.
" Of course I will conceal you, Willy ; but may I not
tell Fraulein Wildhof ?
" No, no, no living soul must know that I am here !"
" Then you must stay here in my room. Come, help
me I We will push the trunks into that corner, so that
you can hide behind them. The wardrobe makes your
concealment complete."
" But does no one except yourself come into this
room ?"
" I can easily prevent any one from coming in, for I
will lock the door and take out the key, all my drawers
open here are quite sufficient reason for doing so."
" I am so hungry, Netta, terribly hungry. I did not
dare to show myself to any one. Can't you get me a
piece of bread ?"
His words cut Netta to the heart. The son of one of
the wealthiest men in Hamburg begging for a crust of
bread !
"You shall certainly have something to eat, but I
should be able to provide for you much better and more
easily if you would let me tell Fraulein Wildhof."
" But she'll be frightened. She'll betray me. Women
are such cowards. Only you, Netta, are different from
the rest."
" You don't know Fraulein Wildhof. She "
, " And then she'll be coming here to see me, and speak
to me. I won't see anybody, or speak to anybody,
and pray take the light away, or bang something up be-
fore the window, I shall be seen from the outside."
" The bay is just at the bottom of the garden ; but I
will do what you wish," replied Netta, pulling down
25
290 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
the shades, and closing the curtains. " How did you
manage to climb up ?"
"By that shaky trellis-work. I have been wandering
about the garden for an hour. I did not know which
was your room until I saw you at the window, and I
had to wait for it to be dark enough to come up."
" Popr boy !" said Netta, trying to conceal a certain
horror of him that she could not overcome. "I will hurry
and get you something to eat." And she went out, leav-
ing the fugitive alone.
He threw himself into a chair and gazed vacantly be-
fore him. In a few minutes he sprang up again.
" How slow she is ! it is so infernally quiet here !" he
ejaculated, and began to pace the room. Suddenly it oc-
curred to him that he might be heard, and he crept back on
tiptoe to his seat. " If she would only bring me a drop of
wine or brandy! I could drink oceans of oblivion. But
no, no, I must keep my wits about me. I dare not close
my eyes. Now I am here I long to be away again. Ugh !
what a terrible night !" he added, listening to the rain
beating against the windows, and the wind howling
through the leafless trees. " I wonder if she has any
money ?" and he looked curiously around the room. " 1
must have money at all events, or the hounds will run
me to earth."
Soft footsteps were heard approaching, the key turned
in the lock, and Netta appeared with a basket in her hand
and a huge dressing-gown over her arm.
"There, take it!" she said, " it belonged to Fraulein
Wildhofs father. You are so wet. And here are
shoes and stockings. I will get your supper ready for
you."
Willy followed her directions, eyeing the basket greedily
the while, and, when Netta took off the cover, he snatched
THE FORMER PLAYMATE. THE FUGITIVE. 291
a small roll and devoured it so hungrily that tears filled
her eyes at the sight.
In a moment Willy had changed his clothes and was
seated at the table which Netta had cleared for his con-
venience, and upon which she placed the provisions she
had brought. There was an abundance of everything
that is to be found in a well stocked larder, and a bottle
of excellent wine was not wanting.
" You are a good girl, that's a fact, Netta," said Willy,
between his mouthfuls ; " but I knew well enough you
would never leave your poor brother in the lurch. I
couldn't go to Hamburg, of course they will look for
me there; those confounded telegraphs made the city im-
possible. I didn't even go as far as Harburg, I got out
at Bardowick, and walked from there all night long. I
should have liked to have got on to Gluckstadt, and gone
on board a ship there, but, in my hurry, I took no money
with me. Can't you lend me some money, Netta ?"
" As much as you want."
"As much as I want hm "
" Of course you must not take that literally ; but you
shall certainly have all that I have just now, and Frau-
lein Wildhof will let me have what more I want." And
she arose and fetched a casket from which she took sev-
eral rolls of silver. " You can't take much of this: it is
too heavy "
" Yes, yes, I can, give them to me !"
" But I have some notes here, beside, and how for-
tunate ! yesterday I received a year's salary. I did
not need it, and had appropriated it to a certain pur-
pose, now you shall have it."
"Oh, I will return it to you, of course, my father
will repay whatever you give me. I only want you to
lend it. How much is there ?"
292 Wnr DID HE NOT DIE?
" Twelve hundred marks."
" Twelve hundred marks ! it is a perfect fortune for
me just at this time. Netta, you are a jewel of a girl !
oh, if I were only safe out of this ! And how about
Fraulein Wildhof ? Do you think the old lady could be
induced to come down with something, too ?"
" Of course, on my security. Shall I ask her ? Do
you want more ?"
" Well, you see," Willy replied, hesitating, " this would
do for awhile ; but, then, one can never have too much
of the blunt, you know, you must be aware of that,"
he added, with a smile that was not pleasant.
" To be sure, to be sure !" Netta replied. " I will speak
to Fraulein Wildhof immediately." And she left the room.
Willy employed the time of her absence in satisfying'
himself that she was right as to the amount of the money
before him. He laid down his knife and fork, and counted
the notes and silver greedily. They were all right, and
he then continued his repast.
" What an ass I have been," he muttered to himself,
" not to have pumped her before ! I needn't then have
been obliged to take such a sudden voyage. Hm 'tis
cursed luck ! a most infernal scrape !" And he finished
the bottle of wine. " Well, I'm full, and I've plenty of
money. If I were only safe off I I could hardly take
ship from here for America and I must go to America.
England? No, England won't do, some kind friend
might meet me there some day and ask what I was
about. I must forego the pleasure of such meetings.
He might have had a sight of the warrants, or some-
thing of the kind. No, no, I can't spend any time in
England. The girl stays away a deuce of a time !"
And the lieutenant pulled out his watch. " The devil !
only six o'clock ! From twelve to thirteen hours to wait
THE FORMER PLAYMATE. THE FUGITIVE. 293
for daylight ! I can't spend them in this hole ! Deuce
take the girl ! Where can she be ?"
Netta was gone, in fact, for some time. The money
matter with Fraulein Wildhof was quickly arranged,
that lady had three hundred marks by her which she
willingly produced ; but there was a long consultation as
to how the unfortunate young man was to be helped in
his flight.
"He cannot stay here overnight," said Fraulein Wild-
hof, "not upon my account; for while I would gladly
do anything for your sake, my child, I cannot conceal
the presence of a man beneath my roof, and a discovery
would be his ruin. He must be off before daylight."
" Yes, yes," said Netta, anxiously ; " but how? all the
vessels here are bound for Copenhagen."
" He must go thither. Captain Sorenson, my sister-
in-law's brother, a most loyal, or rather fanatical, Dane,
has brought a cargo of lumber from Norway, and returns
thither to-morrow or the day after, by way of Copenhagen.
You tell me your brother has shot one of his comrades
in a duel ?"
"He hinted as much," replied Netta; " but, of course,
it was very painful for him to speak of it."
" Well, we will tell Sorenson that circumstance, with-
out adding that your brother is himself a Prussian officer,
and, depend upon it, he will help the poor fellow off."
" A most excellent plan 1" cried Netta. " But how
shall we set about it ? What can I do ?"
Fraulein Wildhof bethought herself for a moment :
" One of us must go on board his ship," she said. " There
is nothing else to be done. Of course you cannot go ; but
I will set off instantly."
" No, no," exclaimed Netta, " I am afraid of nothing,
and it is my affair."
25*
294 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
" It is every one's affair to help those who need assist-
ance. Good heavens, what sacrifices this false idea of
honour demands! The poor young fellow's future is
ruined; but we have nothing to do with that," Friiu-
lein Wildhof said, interrupting herself. " Go back t6
him now ; but first describe his appearance to me, in
case Sorenson should think some disguise advisable.
Has he a martial air ?"
" Not at all. If he will shave off his moustache
but now I think of it he has taken it off already. He
looks very young and almost girlish, he might pass for
a woman if "
"That would never do on board ship; but he may
occupy the position of cabin-boy or cook, if he can make
up his mind to it."
" Oh, he will do anything ; he seems to be in great
agitation of mind."
" No wonder. Tell him, then, what we propose.
When I return I will knock softly at your door, and you
can come out to me."
Netta heaped her kind friend with expressions of
gratitude, and begged to be allowed to go to the vessel
in her place. This Fraulein Wildhof would not hear of,
and soon after left the house, to the astonishment of her
household, wrapped in a water-proof cloak and hood,
while Netta went to acquaint the fugitive with the result
of their conference.
Willy was much excited at the prospect of escape. He
had formed no settled plan beyond reaching Kiel to get
money from Netta. Utterly exhausted, he longed, as
soon as he had finished his meal, for a couple of hours
of repose ; but he was in no condition to be quiet for
a single instant. His anxiety and distress of mind
kept him constantly and ceaselessly restless. Again
THE FORMER PLAYMATE. THE FUGITIVE. 295
and again he crept to the window and listened and
peered out into the stormy night, determining to leave
the house as he had entered it as soon as Netta returned.
Of course he hailed her proposal with delight ; he was
rejoiced to have others think and act for him, and the
prospect of being shortly, able to take some rest in com-
parative security seemed to him for the moment a perfect
deliverance.
About midnight there was a gentle knock at the back
door of Fraulein Wildhof's mansion, and a man was in-
stantly admitted. Shortly afterwards two men emerged
thence, but prying eyes were all sunk in slumber, and
only the stars of heaven were witnesses that these
two men arrived safely on board the craft " Christina."
At day -dawn the Christina weighed anchor, and,
favoured by propitious winds, was soon upon the high
seas.
The next morning Netta received the following letter :
" DEAR ANTOINETTE, A dreadful blow has fallen un-
expectedly upon our household, almost crushing your
poor father, and I hasten to acquaint you with the facts,
lest you should first learn the sad intelligence from the
newspapers. Your brother Willy wretched boy ! has
covered our name with disgrace: warrants are out
against him as against a common criminal, and perhaps
he is at this moment in the hands of the officers of jus-
tice. After exhausting both his father's and my forbear-
ance and liberality, finding that no more money could be
extorted from us, he my pen all but refuses to write the
dreadful words forged the name of one of his comrades.
Discovery ensued upon the second perpetration of this
crime. Your father's house was searched to-day by thw
authorities most thoroughly, although all that was pos-
296 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
sible was done to spare his feelings. Upon your father's
oath that there was no one concealed in Anna's room,
she was left unmolested. I think a knowledge of what
was going on would have killed the poor child.
" Fortunately the unhappy boy has not yet turned his
steps this way ; but we are in hourly dread either of see-
ing him or of hearing of his arrest. You may imagine
my poor Wilhelm's state of mind, I cannot describe it.
Anna is told that he is indisposed and confined to his bed
for a few days, unable to see any one, as he is not in
a condition to be with the dear invalid, from whom, of
course, every distressing circumstance must always be
concealed. He is excessively desirous, and I add my
entreaties to his, my dear Antoinette, that you should
return to us as quickly as possible. For Anna's sake
your presence here is most necessary, and then in mo-
ments of common distress and misfortune the members
of one family should not be separated. I shall send the
carriage to the depot to-morrow for you, and, if you do
not arrive, then the next and the next until you are here.
Of course we cannot come to meet you ourselves, for we
feel like hiding away from every eye.
" Your affectionate mother,
" THERESE GRAVENSUND."
With this letter in her hand, Netta made her appear-
ance in Friiulein Wildhofs study, looking fearfully pale
and agitated.
" For Heaven's sake, what has happened ?" exclaimed
her friend.
For answer Netta placed the open letter before her,
and then threw herself into a chair and covered her face
with her hands.
After awhile she felt a warm, gentle hand laid upon
DOMESTIC LIFE. 291
her own, and, looking up, met eyes full of the kindliest
sympathy and affection.
" Courage, courage, my child ! this must be borne,"
said Fraulein Wildhof. " You are really wanted at home.
I no longer regret your departure ; your place is by your
father's side."
" And you, too, have been deceived !" Netta replied.
" Never speak of that ! It was not my son nor my
brother who deceived me, and, for the sake of his rela-
tives, I cannot repent having helped the unfortunate
youth to escape. A duellist might have undergone an
imprisonment of some years, and yet not have been a
dishonourable man ; but a thief the case is very different.
When can you be ready ?"
" I shall leave to-day."
" Go, then, and tell your father what you have done ;
it will relieve him from an intolerable burden of anxiety,
although no power upon earth can ease a father's heart
of the weight of woe caused by a prodigal son who never
can return to him."
CHAPTER VIII.
DOMESTIC LIFE.
WHEN we have prepared ourselves to meet the worst,
anything less than the worst may be endured with com-
parative equanimity. Gravensund had pictured to himself
his son overtaken by justice, placed in confinement, in
the dress of a convict, condemned to hard labour in a
convict's cell. He now knew that his son had effected
298 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
his escape. Captain Sorenson kept his word, aiding his
charge to leave Copenhagen, so that Friiulein Wildhof
was able to report to Netta that Willy was on the ocean
on his way to a land of freedom, " where no cursed Prus-
sian had a right to insult you without your being allowed
to resent it."
Of course Willy had imposed upon good Captain
Sorenson some vamped-up story of his wrongs, or he
would have been the last to assist the culprit to avoid
the punishment that he deserved.
The young man had heaped his family with disgrace,
and his father's heart would always mourn over his
prodigal son ; but there was at least a chance that the boy
might begin life afresh, and it was infinitely better to
know him buried in the Western wilds of America, or
swallowed up in the tumult of one of her huge cities,
than immured in prison walls.
After hearing from Captain Sorenson, the family
breathed freely once more, and Anna was then informed
in part of the misfortune that had befallen them. She
could not have borne to* hear the full extent of her
brother's crime, but it was vain to try to disguise from
her, beneath a smiling demeanour, the weight of the secret
that so oppressed those around her.
It was of course no secret to the public, and the Gra-
vensund mansion was for awhile desolate and deserted.
Grass might almost have grown upon its threshold, so
seldom was it crossed by visitors entering or by the in-
mates leaving it. Not that sympathy and pity were
wanting for the afflicted family, but it was impossible
to express such sympathy to those chiefly concerned.
As time passed by, the matter would cease to be fresh
in men's minds and might be ignored: it would be
much better to wait and let it quietly die away. These
DOMESTIC LIFE. 299
poor people had best be left to themselves for the
present.
Reichard, however, was one of the few who thought
otherwise. After a day spent in his studio, hard at work,
he repaired to the coffee-house where he took his dinner,
and in the " Hamburg News," that the waiter brought
him, he found a detailed account of the matter, and a
copy of the warrant issued against Willy. He instantly
followed his first impulse, and betook himself to Marga-
rethen Street.
There was hardly any one else from whom Herr Gra-
vensund would not have recoiled in those first days;
whose sympathy would not have wounded him, but with
Reichard it was different ; there was a response in Gra-
vensund's heart to the feeling that had led the artist to
seek him immediately, a response which proved Reichard
right in obeying his impulse.
The artist would not have wondered had he been de-
nied admittance, but he could not answer it to his con-
science to avoid in misfortune the house where he had
passed such happy, sunny hours, and he was gratified to
find that he was admitted to share, and, if he could, to
soothe the grief of the household in this trying time.
Thus it happened that Reichard was present when
Netta arrived, and father and daughter wept in each
other's arms, while Madame Gravensund stood by ap-
plying her lace pocket-handkerchief to her eyes. And
thus he learned the particulars of Willy's escape, of which
Netta gave an immediate account, trying to palliate
Willy's conduct as far as was possible.
A hint from Therese, when the artist had departed,
that Netta had been over-hasty in the presence of a stran-
ger, whom she had admitted to an undue degree of
familiarity in the family circle, made the girl blush, it is
300 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
true, but she could not but think and declare that she was
right in not allowing her poor father to remain an instant
longer than was necessary in suspense with regard to his
son's safety, and, besides, she regarded Reichard as upon
terms of great intimacy with the family.
"Yes, you are right!" Herr Gravensund confirmed
what she was saying, while Therese bit her lip to conceal
her irritation. " And if he were not so, it would matter
little. A man of such exalted honour might be intrusted
with any secret, however important."
Pastor Siegfried also visited his old friend, both in dis-
charge of the duties of his office and by virtue of the life-
long friendship subsisting between them. He was shocked
and amazed to find Reichard there before him ; for was
it not proof that the family regarded him almost as
one of themselves? Usually upon his guard, the possi-
bility of meeting him on this occasion had never suggested
itself to his mind, and he was so entirely confused and
embarrassed by the encounter that it gave him the ap-
pearance of "being quite crushed by the family misfor-
tune. Gravensund was greatly touched by such an
evidence of devotion, but Reichard observed that Madame
Gravensund cast a glance of supreme contempt upon the
reverend gentleman. The artist, of course, never dreamed
of his own part in the affair, but his nature turned in dis-
gust from the woman who obviously had so little feeling
for her husband's sorrow ; and, although he could not
fathom the meaning of Siegfried's behaviour, he believed
firmly in his consummate hypocrisy.
Not long after he took his leave ; his presence now
seemed superfluous, especially as the young people did
not appear. Anna had been advised not to leave her
room for a few days, and Netta had hastened to her as
soon as she had composed herself and washed away from
DOMESTIC LIFE. 301
her cheeks the traces of tears. She was soon busied in
discussing with her loving, happy charge, plans for the
winter's amusement and hopes for the ensuing spring.
The effect of his misfortune was terrible upon poor
Gravensund. He glided about the house like one aged
and infirm, or sat alone, quiet and idle, in his study, with
a book open before him. In former days of cheerfulness
and prosperity, the society of his wife had been almost a
necessity to him, and always most agreeable ; now it
seemed as if the shock to his nerves had developed in
him a strange sensitiveness, which asserted itself in a
half-unconscious avoidance of Madame Therese. Per-
haps, he said to himself, " She cannot share my agony as
my children can, the sisters of the unhappy boy." Certain
it is that he seemed perfectly aware of the fact that she
did not share it.
It was Therese's plan to harden the father's heart
towards his worthless son by exciting his anger to a
degree that should overpower his grief; but her at-
tempts were vain. And she could not always conceal
her impatience when Gravensund sometimes went so far
as to excuse his son, saying, "We were wrong: perhaps
we did not understand bow to treat him." Therese re-
ceived this as a personal reproach, and met it with argu-
ment, so emphasizing the heinousness of the crime that
had been committed that her words were like daggers to
the unfortunate father's heart.
It was an indescribably wearisome life for Therese, now
that the house was as dull and quiet as in those former
days when she had occupied the position in it of an upper
servant. If Gravensund could only rouse himself to cast
off his son entirely, now that he was so lost to him, to act
the part of a stern judge and repudiate him, it was pos-
26
302 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
sible that, superficially at least, the miserable story might
be lived down and forgotten; and Therese had hoped that
this would be the case. This perpetual hanging of the
head, the sighs and the silence, were almost unendurable.
None the less, however, was she determined to persist
in her design, which had for its aim that Willy should be
disinherited, or at least cut off from any but the merest
pittance of his father's property. She knew that a con-
tinual dropping will wear away a rock, and this com-
forted her for the failure of her first attempts.
The family lived on into the winter very quietly and
in close retirement, Gravensund spending much of his
time with his daughters. Therese was so unfortunate
as to have a headache whenever she stayed for any
length of time in Anna's room, where she averred the
temperature ordered by the physician drove the blood to
her head, and she was sure to feel faint.
Netta, during her experience as a teacher, had learned
a certain self-abnegation that enabled her to be per-
fectly content in occupying herself with others without
requiring any degree of prominence for her own in-
terests. She was the very one to cheer her invalid
sister and soothe her stricken father. Her fresh, healthy
nature and cheerful temperament stood her in good
stead, and Gravensund sometimes took comfort in the
reflection, " I have two children left, and, if Netta should
marry one of these days, I shall yet hear a son call me
father."
With regard to Anna, he had never considered her
condition hopeless; but the thought of marriage never
connected itself with so frail and delicately-organized a
creature. Therese, it is true, had called his attention to
her suspicion that the " mushroom artist," who so persist-
ently evaded every attempt to inquire into his origin and
DOMESTIC LIFE. 303
connexions, dared to raise his eyes to a daughter of the
house of Gravensund ; but her repeated hints made no
impression upon her husband, he was strangely obsti-
nate where Reichard was concerned.
" If he should love Anna and my daughter should
return his affection," Gravensund replied to such hints,
" what objection could I urge ? I do not wish for a
wealthy son-in-law, I only desire to see my child happy.
But there is not the least ground for your suspicions,
I am convinced. Anna, at least, has no idea of such a
thing, I am sure. I have watched her too closely to be
deceived. She must first get strong and well, any man,
however much in love he may be, cannot fail to see that,
and a couple of years must pass by."
"You are blind and most imprudent in this matter, my
love," replied Therese. " If you would only believe what
I say."
" I do not disbelieve it. It is very possible that
Reichard may be a lover of "Anna's one of these days ;
but our views upon this subject differ greatly."
" I am afraid you will see it as I do when it is too late
to avert the misfortune."
" Misfortune ? My dearest Therese, what do you
mean ? Do you suppose I should consider it a mis-
fortune to have Reichard for my son-in-law ?"
" Not exactly a misfortune, perhaps, that is not the
right word. But, good heavens ! your daughter might
well make a most brilliant match."
" Granted. Reichard is an artist of great genius, and,
as such, superior to all outward rank."
" But a man of obscure origin," Therese said thought-
lessly in her vexation.
"I think you know nothing of his origin."
" But no respectable parentage is ever so studiously
304 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
concealed. I am convinced that this Reichard is the son
of some tailor or shoemaker."
"And Christ was the son of a carpenter," said Graven-
sund ; " besides, my dearest Therese, where true love
exists there is no question of descent, so it has always
seemed to me, and I am sure you must share my opinion
upon this head."
This was a turn to the conversation that served to
silence Therese completely; for alas for her if Graven-
sund had chosen to pry suspiciously into her origin and
antecedents !
" I do not like the man," she said after a pause ; "per-
haps I do him injustice."
"Be sure you do, it is so," replied Gravensund.
" And your excellent sense will, I know, conquer your
prejudice if the future should prove it unfounded."
" Most certainly it shall," Therese answered, while in
her heart she thought, " I should like to annihilate him 1"
The artist Reichard, a welcome guest in the wealthiest
and most distinguished houses in Hamburg, feted and
caressed on all sides, invited to balls and parties of every
description, was nowhere as content as in the midst of
the small family circle, where he had become really inti-
mate in days of distress and depression. At all events,
he persistently refused every invitation that could inter-
fere with his expected presence in Margarethen Street,
and was always ready to lend his aid in the artistic
labours of the two young girls there.
" The fellow is head over ears in love," Pastor Sieg-
fried declared when Therese told him of the evenings
spent in this way, " it is perfectly clear, else how upon
earth could he make up his mind to pass his time so
stupidly?"
DOMESTIC LIFE. 305
" He certainly does not seem to find it stupid," replied
Therese, whose role it was now to appear satisfied with
what was not to be altered And thoroughly as she de-
tested the artist, his visits were really not disagreeable
to her. She had for years given up her former duty of
reading to her husband and amusing him for hours of an
evening, she had found it far more agreeable to take her
place at her elegant tea-table, surrounded by excellent
friends, who not only relieved their charming hostess of
all duties in the way of entertaining her husband, but paid
their court to the graceful mistress of the mansion with
the best grace in the world.
But these "excellent friends" were rather scarce just
now, and Gravensund invited no frequent visits, as he
was indisposed for general society. He was quite satis-
fied to spend his evenings with only his own family in
the very drawing-room which Therese had so quietly and
gradually invaded years previously.
Netta was the enlivening element in the little circle ;
but the most charming household can scarcely exist
without monotony, if there is an entire want of all out-
side interests, and hospitality is a virtue that often does
homage to egotism. Therese was hospitable because as
hostess she was made corfscious of her own importance.
When Reichard appeared, the influence of his presence
was felt pleasantly even by her, every one was incited
to fresh exertion, Gravensund grew quite cheerful, and
the girls, even Anna, if she were not in pain, grew gay
and talkative.
The artist would often bring sketches, engravings, or
studies of various kinds for their entertainment, and
Gravensund would produce a long-forgotten treasure
that had been hidden away in some cabinet, the young
26*
306 WHY DID HE NOT NOT DIE?
girls would get out their drawings, and the time would
pass lightly and quickly. Although Therese could take
no genuine pleasure in the enjoyment of those around
her, the rest bore evidence that sympathy in a common
interest is a bond of union that prevents all ennui.
Reichard at this time hardly understood himself or his
state of mind. Was he head over ears in love, as Sieg-
fried said ? Was it an engrossing passion that enchained
him here, or was it the unwonted, yet delightful, sensa-
tion of being a part of a home the knowledge that in
this forest of houses there was one where he was always
welcome, and that among the hundred thousand of
strange, indifferent faces there were some to look truly
kindly upon him, and that were, beside, bound to him by
a romantic tie of memory, of which they were all uncon-
scious?
But why did Netta's eyes often rest upon him so
thoughtfully? Why did she observe him so narrowly
when she imagined herself unnoticed ?
" I sometimes think I have known him before, long
ago," she once said to Herr Gravensund when Reichard
was mentioned. " How is it with you, papa ?"
" Strangely enough, my child, I have the same sensa-
tion. I suppose some resemblance must occur to both
of us, for, of course, we never knew him before. We
grow more intimate with certain sympathetic natures in
a few days than in years of intercourse with others, and
then we are apt to think we have known them for a long
time."
" Yes, you must be right," Netta replied. She would,
at all events, never have betrayed Reichard 's secret. If
he were really he whom she suspected him to be, she
could well understand that he desired to preserve his
incognito in this house, although, reasoning back to the
DOMESTIC LIFE. 307
boy from the characteristics of the man, any accusation
that charged him with dishonour or untruth must be
utterly false. Still her thoughts reverted from the painter
to the boy, from the drawing in her pocket to the master-
pieces of the artist. She knew that she had never for-
gotten him through all these years, and now her first
thought upon awaking in the morning was, " Will he
come to-day ?" while her rest was calm and tranquil
after an evening spent in his society. No, it could not
be tranquil, for her curiosity was not satisfied, and, as
curiosity was all that possessed her, how could she be
tranquil ?
If she could only be sure that she was correct in her
conjecture that her keen eye had not deceived her that
she had penetrated the carefully-guarded secret ! If she
could only know she alone she would never breathe
it to any one else in the world, and would be satisfied.
She cautiously attempted to lead the conversation to
recollections of childhood, but the artist did not follow
her lead. Did he not choose to do so, or was the sub-
ject devoid of interest for him ? She had carried the
little hymn-book about with her in her pocket for some
time past, not for the sake of the hymns that it con-
tained, but the little sketch between its leaves had sud-
denly become possessed of new interest in her eyes.
She looked at it so often and so long that she knew
every line of the drawing by heart.
At last it happened one evening that she was sit-
ting alone with Reicbard at a small round table above
which a light burned brilliantly. Frau Therese had a
genuine headache and was confined to her room, and her
husband had gone to inquire after her. Anna, it is true,
was present, but she was half reclining on a lounge
near the fire, and took no part in the conversation.
308 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
Netta turned over one of the books of engravings upon
the table, busying herself in apparent unconsciousness
with its contents, while talking with Reichard about
other matters.
" Oh, how did this come here ?" she said, suddenly
unfolding a paper that fell from between the engravings.
"What is it?" asked Reichard.
" I see," Netta continued, " it is a sketch perhaps one
of yours, Herr Reichard ?" And she handed the paper
to the painter with a trembling hand and beating heart,
for surely the moment had arrived which would unveil
the mystery. She should know in an instant whether
she were right or not.
And Reichard, nothing doubting, took the sketch which
Netta had thus converted into a trap into which she
trusted he would fall.
" Aha, it is something in my style certainly," he replied
smiling; " a pretty subject, but frightfully drawn. It looks
like the work of a boy."
" Yes, it ^nust be a child's drawing," said Netta,
greatly disappointed, for there was no start, no sudden
look of inquiry, not a trace of what she had expected to
see.
With perfect indifference Reichard laid the sketch aside,
and continued the previous conversation. But Netta
was much embarrassed. She was conscious that she
could not conceal her confusion, and, under some trifling
pretext, she arose and went to Anna, by whom she stayed
until Herr Gravensund re-entered the room and the con-
versation became general.
Then it was not he ! No, no, decidedly not, how
could she have imagined that it was ? And when she
next cast a glance of secret scrutiny at the artist, she
wondered how her fancy could have played her such a
SKATING. 309
trick. She never thought that Reichard might very
easily have forgotten the picture. The boy had thrown
off hundreds of such sketches. How often he had been
punished for wasting paper ! It would really have been
too much to expect him to bear all his pencil scratches
in mind, least of all one that he had given away to his
little friend as soon as it was completed, and that he had
never seen since.
CHAPTER IX.
SKATING.
THE winter was particularly long and severe. For
weeks the ice was thick on both branches of the Alster.
It was with great difficulty that a small place was kept
open for the swans ; and where the keels of pleasure-boats
had cut the water so smoothly, skaters were now execu-
ting the strangest hieroglyphics. Some paths were quite
distinctly marked out upon the ice connecting places
usually separated by water, and especially upon holidays
the Alster was gay with crowds of children and loungers.
Even the mightier waters of the Elbe owned the sway
of the Ice-king, who had utterly subdued its ebb and flow.
The giant ships were firmly wedged in the ice, foot pas-
sengers went to and fro from one to another, in the streets,
as it were, of a strange new city, swarming with trades-
men and hucksters from the neighbouring villages and
towns.
Sleighing and skating were p-irsued with zest, and a
wide space was devoted to those thus engaged, booths
310 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
for the sale of all sorts of refreshments being erected
wherever the ice was officially pronounced secure.
Reichard was an enthusiastic skater, as all are likely
to be who skate well. They can enjoy the pleasure but
rarely, sometimes not during the entire season, either
because the cold is not severe enough or lasting enough ;
and, therefore, when the skating is really fine every mo-
ment is precious, no opportunity must be lost for improv-
ing the occasion, since there is no certainty that in a few
hours a warm gale may not transform the clear ice into
a turbid lake, separated from the water below by a treach-
erous basis for the foot, that every hour renders more
insecure.
Reichard, therefore, frequented the harbour daily, and
for the sake of skating did what no other pleasure could
induce him to do, left an unfinished picture on the easel
in his studio, saying to himself, " I can paint every day
in the year, but I can't tell when I may be able to skate
again."
He had made a gentle attempt to induce Netta to get
out her skates and go with him to the harbour or the
Alster, as she, too, was a graceful and skilful skater ;
but Netta bad refused, for while the whole family felt
their present reluctance to be seen in public, she had not
the heart to take any share in so public an amusement.
She thought very rightly that it was better to stay at home
until time should have somewhat dulled the memory of
Willy's misconduct. And Reichard forbore to urge her.
There could be no question of Anna's going, because the
delicate girl never left the house in very cold weather,
not even in a close carriage.
The others sometimes went sleighing, for Netta agreed
with Therese that it was very wrong to allow Graven-
sund to yield too entirely to his dislike to encounter
SKATING. 311
strange faces, Therese's views upon the subject being
much strengthened by her memory of the dreary time
that had ensued upon Frau Emma's death, when Gra-
vensund, actuated by other motives than at present, it is
true, had converted his house into a gloomy prison.
On the occasion of such excursions they used to drive
along the shore of the Alster, through the linden avenue
adorned with its wealth of wintry crystal, to enjoy the
sight of the gay crowds assembled there. The sleigh-
ing upon that long, broad road was excellent, while the
streets around the harbour and in the older parts of the
city were narrow and uneven, looking even more confined
than they really were, from the busy throngs that swarmed
in them.
There is, however, one broad and spacious road along
the quay, although the high, gabled houses that here front
the water are less elegant and modern than the buildings
upon the shores of the Alster. Sleighs and handsome
equipages are rather more rare upon this road, but there
is no lack of spectators, who either stand leaning over
the stone parapet of the quay, or, descending, mingle
upon foot with the passers-by.
Of course the whilom letter carrier Kurten was in the
habit of taking his share of the common enjoyment. One
day he strolled along the shores of the Alster, and the
next he went to see how it looked upon the Elbe, not
to mention the Bille also, a little stream that flows into
the Alster, and the numerous ponds about the suburbs,
all boasting a number of frequenters. He was inces-
santly abroad this winter, for he, too, remembered that
the mercury might not remain long at ten degrees above
zero, and that each night might put an end to all the icy
magnificence.
Thus he was standing one day upon the ice of the
312 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
Elbe, both hands propped upon his cane, looking at the
skaters, and thinking with some regret of the time when
he had taken his place among the young men and
maidens, and skated as skilfully as the best of them.
" But," he muttered to himself, " take care, don't be so
sure of yourselves ! How long will it last ? A couple of
years, that fly by like the wind, and then you, too, will
stand aside, with not a soul to care whether you come
or go."
He walked on a few steps from time to time, for he
grew tired of standing, and his feet were cold. A skater
brushed past him and cried, " Excusez," as he flew by,
for as he had scarcely touched the old man he did not
consider it worth while to stop. But Kurten turned and
looked after him angrily.
'"Infernal puppy I to treat an old .man so!" he cried,
stepping aside to avoid the more frequented path into
which he had unconsciously strayed.
Just at that moment he came in collision with another
skater, who had been about to glide past him, and the
blow, although by no means violent, and entirely unin-
tentional, threw Kurten to the ground. The fall would
have been insignificant, but unfortunately he struck his
head against a projecting stake and lost consciousness.
Instantly a crowd of curious sympathizers gathered about
him. The young man who was the cause of the misfor-
tune immediately took oft 7 his skates, and with every sign
of distress and regret applied himself to his recovery.
Assisted by some others, he carried him to the shore, and
called a droschky, into which the still unconscious Kur-
ten was lifted.
Reichard for he it was then placed himself by
his side, and told the coachman the number of the street
to which he was to drive, for he had recognized the
SKATING. 313
deeply-furrowed, aged face. Yes, there was something
like filial feeling stirring in his hearjt as he contem-
plated the helpless figure by his side, his compassion
heightened by momentary anxiety lest a slight care-
lessness upon his part should convert to a tragedy
his connection with one to whom, if judged by those
ignorant of the truth, he had already scarcely played
the part of a dutiful son.
He began to reproach himself. Why should he stand
in judgment upon the conduct of two people who had
but acted according to the dictates of the nature with
which they had been endowed ? Ought he not to
be more grateful to them than if they had really been his
parents? How could he require of them the affection
which is an instinct dependent upon actual relation-
ship?
No, he could require no such affection from them
any more than gratitude could be required of him. Both
emotions must spring up spontaneously they cannot
obey the command of duty.
But this did not occur to him just now ; he was not
sufficiently collected to weigh the claims of duty and af-
fection. In the moral world, where the finer distinctions
cannot be exactly defined, and cannot apply equally to
all, much is dependent upon the tone of our minds in
considering certain questions, and Reichard was in no
condition to abjure the sense of responsibility which the
sight of his unconscious foster-father had aroused within
him.
What would have become of him without these Kur-
tens ? He would in all probability have been sent to an
orphan asylum, and he remembered how he had always
pitied the orphans, who were obliged at the hottest
season of the year to parade the streets in a long pro-
27
314 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
cession, all dressed exactly alike, to collect the alms with
which the children of the wealthier classes presented
them. The Hamburgers call this custom " Waisen-
griin," because all the orphan children have a green
branch in their hands. Reichard had never been obliged
to beg, his foster-parents had supplied his physical wants
and saved him from moral contamination, until at last
well, whether it were gratitude or filial affection, there
was that within him which caused him to feel a convur
tion that he owed them somewhat.
Arrived in front of Kurten's dwelling, Reichard hur-
ried through the narrow entrance- way to the back part
of the house to tell Frau Knrten of what had occurred,
that she might not be too much alarmed when her un-
conscious husband was brought in. After the fashion
of her class, the woman burst into loud expressions of
grief.
" Oh, gracious goodness, what a terrible misfortune !
Wretched woman that I am, what shall I do ? How
could any one run over a poor old man? I don't mean
any offence, Herr, but if young gentlemen would only
care for something else beside their own pleasure Oh,
there they are bringing him in !" And she began to
scream. " He is dead 1 my husband is dead ! I am a poor,
forsaken widow !"
" No, no ! I assure you it is only a fainting-fit," cried
Reichard, hurrying down the steps to help the driver and
the porter whom he had engaged to come with them, to
bring Kurten up-stairs.
"Make up a bed for him upon the sofa !" he cried to
Frau Kurten. " Get a couple of pillows, he must be
taken into the warm room." And she flew to obey his
directions.
" Feel his hands, they are quite warm," he said,
SKATING. 315
drawing off Kurten's fur-gloves; "he will soon come to
himself. But get me some cold water, and I will wet a
bandage for his head, here is a slight bruise."
Frau Kurten, still lamenting loudly, brought a large
bucketful of water, not exactly understanding in her
confusion what was wanted.
Kurten moved, but did not open his eyes.
" Is the doctor coming?" his wife asked.
" He will be here directly," Reichard answered. "I
stopped at his house, and they said he was expected
home every minute."
"That is well," she said, "yes, that is well," she
added after a pause ; " but if Kurten comes to, we don't
have many dealings with doctors or apothecaries, their
bills are too long."
" Oh, of course I shall take upon myself any expense
that my carelessness may have caused you," Reichard
hastened to assure her, dipping a cloth in the bucket and
laying it upon Kurten's head. Before long the old man
opened his eyes, but did not appear to remember imme-
diately what had happened. He looked from his wife to
the young stranger, and at first made no reply to their
anxious inquiries as to how he was.
"How am I ?" he repeated at last. " Oh, very well."
And he certainly was very comfortable in the warm room
upon the broad sofa. But in a minute he put his hand
to his head where he felt some slight pain. " What is
this?" he asked.
Reicbard told him what had happened, and how he
had caused the accident, entreating forgiveness for his
carelessness so earnestly and cordially that even the mo-
rose old man was disarmed, especially as he was very
little the worse for his fall.
316 WHY DTD TIE NOT DTE?
" I came home very easily," he chuckled. " I was
never in a droschky before in my life."
The speech caused Reichard a pang, as revealing all
the economy and self-denial that the " little man " had
been obliged to practise from his youth up.
" You shall drive in a droschky every day in future if
you like."
" Oh, thank you, thank you, sir, it would hardly suit
me : I am used to walking."
"Now, Kurten," said his wife, " if the gentleman is in
earnest, you might take him at his word sometimes."
" No, no, wife, you know nothing about it," replied
Kurten, whose sense of delicacy about accepting favours
was keener than his wife's.
" Why, wasn't your perpetual running about the real
cause of the mischief? Aren't you everywhere in the
city at once ? Wherever anything is going on there you
are. Only last week, sir," she turned to Reichard,
"there was a senator to be elected, and the gentlemen
of the council were shut up together until they could
agree upon the right man, however hungry or tired they
might be. It was terrible weather, but Kurten had to
see the gentlemen come out of the house and get in their
coaches of state to drive to the city-hall. So there he
paraded up and down all the afternoon to see the end of
it. Good gracious ! what matter did it make who was
chosen senator? He came home tired to death and wet
through ; it was a wonder he was not ill."
" Nonsense, wife ; you women know nothing about it.
Look after your soup-tureen, I'm ravenously hungry."
"That's all right," said Reichard, "and quite satisfies
my mind. You must grant me a favour, Frau Kurten,
and let me dine with you to-day."
Frau Kurten was evidently embarrassed ; she was
SKATING. 317
half pleased by the stranger's condescension, and half
ashamed of her frugal repast.
" If the gentleman can content himself, we are very
plain people."
" Of course, of course, I am no gourmand, and I
smell something like lentil soup," said Reichard, rising.
" It was always my favourite dish. I will help you to
lay the table." And he went to the drawer, took out the
table-cloth, and unfolded it. "And the key of the pantry
is under the clock, I believe; yes, here it is. I'll just
get out the silver spoons six; yes, all right. How
bright they are !"
"Good heavens! is the man a thief?" Frau Kurten
thought to herself. " Is he going to carry off our spoons
before our very eyes ?" And she was half inclined to
spring up an*d protect her property ; but the stranger put
the spoons upon the table, and continued with great self-
possession :
" I'll put on the glass sugar-bowl and the silver tea-
spoons for dessert. Mother, you'll make us some de-
licious coffee to-day, for the family is assembled for the
first time for many years."
Kurten had slowly taken his feet off the sofa and
sat still, looking on with an almost stupid expression of
bewilderment and amazement. His better-half was at
this moment strikingly like him, for her mouth and eyes
were wide open as she stared at the stranger, who went
hither and thither, opening drawers and cupboards, as
if he were quite at home, and then stood still, looking
smilingly at them, evidently expecting them to speak.
But they said never a word.
" Do you not know me then, father and mother?"
" You are Yes, it is he it is Richard !" they
cried in a breath. " Heavens, what a grand, handsome
27*
318 WIIY DID HE NOT DIE?
gentleman you are grown !" Frau Kurten added, clasp-
ing her hands. " Who would have thought it ?"
Kurten tried to rise, but his legs failed him, and he
staggered back upon the sofa.
" Oh, how thoughtless I have been !" cried Reichard,
hastening to his assistance, "you are faint again."
" No, no," said the old man ; " it will be over soon : it
is only the surprise I am very glad 1"
This was true ; be had less to reproach himself with
in regard to his foster-son than had his wife : he felt no
sting of conscience at sight of him, but took Reich ard's
hand cordially in his own, and searched his features to
trace the likeness there to the boy as he remembered
him.
" Yes, yes, it is really you. Wife, where were our
eyes? This fs our Richard. Aha! this is not the first
time you have taken lentil soup with us. Get out a
bottle of wine, too, wife."
"Yes, mother," said Reichard, holding out his hand
to her, as she stood gazing at him. " Yes, bring us
a bottle of wine, and anything else good that you can
think of, for the sake of our patient. Take this with
you," and he thrust his purse into her hand. " But don't
give yourself any trouble," he added.
" And be as quick as you can," Kurten called after her,
as she hurried out of the door.
Outside she breathed freely. " Yes, it is he, it is really
Richard. And he is going to dine with us upon lentil
soup, and a little ham; it won't do, there is so little of
it. I will get something else with his money, why
shouldn't I ? What a beautiful porte-monnaie ! And ever
so much injtl Well, be has not grown saving, that's a
fact, or he wouldn't carry so much about with him. But
it's all the same to me. I'll go to the best restaurant,
SKATING. 319
and then I can take my choice." And she hurried down-
stairs with a large basket.
When the physician arrived half an hour later he found
the Kurten family seated around a well-spread table, and
no patient requiring his attention. They told him of the
accident, and he examined the small bruise upon Kur-
ten's head, felt his pulse, and assured him that he would
suffer no ill consequences from his fall. As he appeared
somewhat excited he had better keep the house for a day,
but no further precaution -was necessary.
So Reichard's anxiety was entirely allayed upon this
point, and he resigned himself to the satisfaction which
was the result not only of this fact, but also of his con-
sciousness that his relations with his foster-parents were
re -established upon the most agreeable footing.
Yet, it was a strange reunion. No outstretched arms
received the returning son, who never dreamed of falling
upon his parents' breasts, in the delight of seeing them,
again ; still less was he oppressed by any remorse at
sight of them. There was at least no hypocrisy in the
conduct of any of the party. They did not immediately
allude to the past, neither did they avoid it. The old
people refrained from the use of the familiar "thou" in
addressing the son who had been their foster-child, and
Reichard admitted the propriety of their conduct in this
respect, and followed their example. His foster-parents
felt that they had resigned all claim to this privilege of
intimacy; and the son was in fact more widely severed
than ever before, by the chasm of culture, from those who
had fostered his childhood but had never sought to win
his affection. Nevertheless, he was in a conciliatory
mood ; he turned froni the thought of what had^not been as
it should be, and remembered that, all things considered,
he had cause to be well content with his fate. He knew
320 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
that these old people were not his parents, and they knew
that he was not their child, or such a reunion as the
present would have been impossible.
The thought that Richard must know of his origin
occurred forcibly to the old people, and they had no doubt
of it when they learned that he was at present residing
in Hamburg, as an artist, under the name of Reichard.
They never asked why he had not sought them out be-
fore, or why he had dropped the name of Kurteu, although
they would have been proud enough now to know him
the bearer of the name.
But, of course, there was no avoiding the question as
to what all had been about in these long years. Reichard
first listened to what the Kurtens had to tell of them-
selves, and, when they told of the remittances, admitted
frankly that the money came from him. He was pleased
to see their eyes sparkle as they recounted the many little
additions to their comfort that this increase of their
income had procured, and promised that in future they
should want for nothing, since his own gains by his
profession were so large that he could easily supply
them with all that they needed.
Of course the Kurtens were entirely incapable of ap-
preciating the significance of his art, or even its worth in
a pecuniary point of view, and it seemed to them an in-
credible statement, when Reichard informed them of the
price that he received for a picture that it took him only a
week to paint.
"Yes, yes," said Frau Kurten, " when you were a boy
you always used to be " And she stammered, and
was silent.
" Scribbling with a pencil on paper," Reichard com-
pleted her sentence, with a smile. "Yes, yes, I have
SKATING, 321
daubed a good deal in my day, and now I make my living
by it."
The old people were silent, but Reichard easily guessed
that they were burning to know how he had been enabled
to cultivate his talent. So he began his story, passing
over the first months after his flight from Hamburg, with
the simple statement that he had suffered privations of
every kind, and had at last returned to Hamburg, where,
true to his childish resolution, he bad sought out Knud-
sen the fisherman, who had first helped him to service
upon a ship bound for England, and then upon an East
Indiaman.
After a single fortunate voyage in the huge three-
master, he clearly understood the reason of his love for
the sea. If his hands had lost all refinement of touch in
the rough employments of a common sailor, his eye had
gained in double proportion ; but the poetical nature of
a predestined artist could scarcely find its level in the
position of a cabin-boy or among rude sailors. Every
path to the goal he longed for seemed closed to the poor
fellow, with nothing in his pockets but the wages for his
first voyage. So he wandered about the world for awhile,
until at last chance befriended him, and he was admitted
to a drawing-school established by a German in New
York.
To this man, who had first perceived and encouraged
his pupil's talent, Reichard owed an immense deal, al-
though his friend was too poor to give him pecuniary
assistance. His advice, however, was the foundation
whereby Reichard was afterwards enabled to pursue the
course of study in the best schools of art in the world
and to fit himself for his present position.
" That teacher in New York," Reichard concluded his
narrative, " would have adopted me, although he had two
322 WIIT DID HE NOT DIE?
sons, who had chosen other careers in life that is, he
would have allowed me to bear his name, for I knew
well that that of Kurten did not belong to me ; but I re-
fused his kind offer: I chose either to make a name for
myself or to take my mother's, if I should ever come to
learn what that was."
Here Reichard looked inquiringly at his foster-parents.
" Yes, wife," said Kurten, " he is right, let us tell
him all about it. He is not our son ; and as he is a
connexion of yours, and you were present at his birth,
tell him all you know."
Frau Kurteu was quite ready to do as she was bid,
and only wanted to know first how and when Reichard
had learned that he was not her son. She was soon
satisfied upon this point, and then the artist learned all
that Frau Kurten had to tell. It was very little,
really not much more than that his boyish fancy had
not erred when it had endowed his mother with the
sacred name of Marie.
CHAPTER X.
THE BIRTHDAY FETE.
THE morning after the occurrences just related, the
weather was still clear and sunny, and the frost-flowers
upon the window-panes were more clearly defined and
fantastic than ever. There was no prospect of a thaw
or of any speedy end to the enjoyment of the skaters.
Reichard left the half-finished picture upon his easel,
THE BIRTHDAY FETE. 323
and prepared to go out. His skates, however, lay neg-
lected in their satchel, he took his way to the Graven-
sands'. Hitherto he had preserved his incognito in this
family, and had felt entirely justified in so doing ; but
all this was changed now. Before the occurrences of
the day previous he had been for every one what he
represented himself; now, it was only chance that could
keep his kind friend Gravensund in ignorance of the
peculiar circumstances of his birth. Should they be
accidentally revealed, Reichard might appear in an
ambiguous light. Such an accidental revelation might
not be far distant, for Siegfried's knowledge of the
orphan boy must sooner or later prove the bridge across
which Gravensund might attain the knowledge of the
artist's birth. So at least Reichard reasoned, never sus-
pecting that no man in the world would be less inclined
than Pastor Siegfried to enlighten Herr Gravensund re-
garding the artist's identity. Still, the Pastor's behaviour
was inexplicable to him ; as far as Frau Kurten had in-
formed him of it, his interest was as inexplicable as his
hatred, the thought even flashed across his brain that
Siegfried might know- more about his antecedents than
he chose to confess to the Kurtens. He did not care to
pry into this knowledge ; he had no desire to know a
father who had permitted his poor dear mother to
perish in misery, and who evidently had determined to
know nothing of his child.
He was resolved simply to declare honourably what
facts he had just learned, undeterred by the thought
of what reception his revelations might meet with or
what consequences would ensue.
"Ah, I'm glad you're come," Gravensund said, upon
his entrance, in a far more cheerful tone than he had
used of late. Upon the table before him were heaped
324 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
engravings, books, and portfolios, with which he was
evidently occupied.
" What an interesting assortment 1" said Reichard, as
he looked over the table.
"Indeed it is," Gravensund replied; "they are all so
fine that it is difficult to say which to buy. Come and
help me to make a choice, my dear Reichard."
" And, if I may ask, who are they to be purchased for ?
Not for yourself?"
" Oh, no ; my daughter's birthday comes round next
week, and I cannot but feel it injustice towards the dear
child to shroud myself so egotistically in my unhappi-
ness. She must not be condemned to sackcloth and ashes
all her life because of her unhappy brother's misconduct.
I see clearly that I ought to control myself for the sake
of my family."
" I am very glad for your own sake," Reichard re-
plied, "that you have arrived at this conclusion; you
will find that the peace that you aim at will really be
yours after you have exerted such self-control for some
time, and you will be able to turn readily to the joys that
life still has in store for you." .
" Yes, you are right ; but perhaps I should not have
found courage to make this exertion if I had not received
a letter from Willy yesterday, which has inspired me
with all the hope possible under the circumstances.
Here, read it yourself." And Gravensund took a letter
from his pocket and handed it to the artist.
It was full of fine phrases, beginning with expres-
sions of the most profound remorse and abasement and
continuing with brilliant promises of amendment. Reich-
ard could not but perceive the hypocrisy and sham of
every line of it, but did not consider himself called upon
to destroy the hopes of the credulous father. Evidently
THE BIRTHDAY FETE. 325
his immediate family had encouraged them, rejoicing in
the renewed cheerfulness of the man's sanguine tempera-
ment.
" Therefore," said Gravensund, " I have determined not
to let my daughter's birthday pass unnoticed. When
one numbers so few birthdays, each is a most im-
portant event ; later in life they return so quickly that
we grow accustomed to them, and never think of re-
joicing over them."
" Is it Fraulein Netta's or Fraulein Anna's birthday
that is to be celebrated ?"
"Anna's my daughter's Anna's seventeenth birth-
day."
" Seventeenth ?
" Yes, she always seems to me like a child. I have
to count up the years to convince myself that she is
actually a woman."
" Hardly yet ; she is a child still in face and figure,
and her whole mo<lu of thought the character of her
mind is still very childlike."
" Do you think so ? I am very glad to hear you say
so, Herr Reichard," said Gravensund with emphasis ;
" and I should like to keep her a child as long as possi-
ble, for, delicate as she has always been from her infancy,
she should develop but slowly; any forcing might result
in most disastrous consequences."
" So I think," Reichard replied. " Fraulein Anna
should be cherished for years to come with the greatest
care in the quiet atmosphere of home, and then she will
one day be as strong and healthy as Fraulein Netta."
" I hope so. Netta is a splendid girl, there is not the
slightest trace in her of her sister's frail, delicate consti-
tution," said Gravensund, thinking of his former wife,
18
326 W1IY DID HE NOT DIE?
Netta's sister, while, of course, Reichard supposed that
he alluded to Anna.
"And now you must help me with my selection,"
Gravensund continued, " and then we will make out a
very small list of guests, whom I shall invite in Anna's
honour."
" How pleased she will be," said Reicbard, " both for
her own and her father's sake !"
" Yes, yes, she's a dear child, and is still fonder of her
father than of any one else. Which of these books shall
I take ? It is difficult to choose."
" Then take both," said Reichard, laughing. " A col-
lection of engravings and another of songs harmonize
excellently well."
" Yes, yes, I will take them both," said Gravensund,
adding them to the pile that he had already selected, and
that occupied a considerable portion of the table.
Reicbard's advice and assistance, with regard to
the important birthday, now engrossing Gravensund's
thoughts, were in such earnest demand that he found no
opportunity for the disclosure he had come prepared to
make, and for which he hoped to obtain a quiet hearing
and a mind undistracted by other interests upon the part
of his listener. Therefore he concluded that it would be
better to wait until the birthday fete were over, since it
could make no material difference. Gravensund could
hardly learn in any other way what he had to communi-
cate, before a few days had passed.
He suggested several arrangements for the coming
fete to Herr Gravensund, who appeared desirous of
rendering the day as pleasant and cheerful as possible
without recourse to tableaux-vivans, or anything that
could make it the subject of special remark; also he
feared any undue degree of excitement for Anna.
THE BIRTHDAY FETE. 32 f
Reichard himself was of opinion that an informal
gathering of guests left to their own devices for amuse-
ment would be more successful than any arranged enter-
tainment; and he could not but rejoice at the opportunity
thus afforded for the easy intercourse with the daughters
of the house that preparations for such a little festival
are sure to offer.
He determined to contribute his share to the enjoyment
of the occasion, and on the eve of the birthday sent a
charming picture from his own brush to the Gravensund
house. It was ready framed and carefully covered.
" Anna herself shall have the pleasure of uncovering
it," said Gravensund to his wife and Netta, who were
busy with him in arranging the gifts for the morrow,
" as if," Netta laughingly said, " it were to be the birthday
of six daughters."
"And I am sure," she added, "that the picture will be
the most charming thing here. I wish I could take one
peep at it."
" To-morrow, my child, to-morrow," Herr Gravensuud
replied, " we can enjoy the pleasure of the surprise to-
gether. Such a picture is common property in a house,
it belongs to every one who can appreciate it."
" I must say," Therese observed in an ungracious
tone, "our obligation to the artist weighs upon me
very heavily, his pictures command so high a price."
" That is true, but it does not trouble me," said Graven-
sund, " for I know that it gives him pleasure, and it does
not annoy me at all to be, or rather to let Anna be, Reich-
ard's debtor."
" Hm he may demand repayment one of these days
in the shape of Anna's hand. I hope you will not hesi-
tate to discharge the debt."
"Oh 1" cried Netta with an expression of griefUnd re-
328 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
gret, as she held out a hyacinth which a sudden move-
ment upon her part had broken from the stem. It was a
beautiful flower of a rare shade of rose-colour, the prettiest
of all, and there it lay, as sadly crushed as some sud-
denly blighted hope.
"It is a pity that the accident should have happened
to that one," said Herr Gravensund; "but, Netta, don't
cry about it, it is not worth a tear. We have half a
dozen at least of the same colour; go and get another,
and it will do just as well."
" No, it will not be the same," said Netta, picking up
the vigorous, healthy stem and trying to fit it to the
flower. " It is gone," she said in a resigned tone, " it
shall not make a pretence of existence."
And, with the broken flower in her hand, she went to
her room, took the little hymn-book, and looked thought-
fully first at the childish sketch between its leaves, and
then at the blighted flower. Then she placed the latter
carefully between the leaves of the little book ; but the
flower was too big, the covers of the hymn-book would
not close upon it.
" Goethe shall help me," said Netta, putting the book be-
neath the bust of the poet. " There, " she added, " buried,
and a monument erected above it;" but there were tears
in her voice that accorded ill with her words.
She got another hyacinth to fill the gap caused by
the breaking of the last, and then she discovered that
there were not flowers enough, and picked handfuls more,
as if to indemnify Anna for the one that had been de-
stroyed.
The morning of the birthday dawned clear and sunny.
A seventeenth birthday is always a charming day even
if the sun does not shine perfectly clear, and if one is not
overwhelmed with beautiful gifts and flowers.
THE BIRTHDAY FETE. 329
Anna was particularly well and cheerful. Her usu-
ally pale cheek was suffused with a delicate rosy tint,
and her eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of the many
tokens of the affection of those dear to her. Upon an easel
stood Reichard's picture.
The artist had been true to his specialty. The canvas
showed a fair expanse of placid water illuminated by
golden sunlight. But the figures were not as subordi-
nate as usual, they riveted the attention, and were painted
with exceeding care. On a strip of land in the fore-
ground sat a woman coarsely clad, but graceful in form.
Her face could not be seen, it was turned towards a boat,
gaily dancing upon the waves. In the boat sat a gallant
cavalier in the midst of a party of lovely ladies, and in
the ear of the fairest he was whispering words of love.
The attitude of the female figure in the foreground
expressed listless despair, but the arm of the boy at her
side was extended menacingly towards the faithless gal-
lant, and his whole bearing spoke the keenest desire for
revenge. The cavalier heeded neither the woman nor
the child ; he evidently bestowed no thought upon either.
The picture was wonderfully striking, and not for its
beauty alone.
" It is a piece of life," said Gravensund, with a long-
drawn sigh, after he had contemplated the picture for
awhile, his arms folded upon his chest.
" It is, indeed," Therese added, with bitter emphasis.
Both were thinking of the past.
Netta said nothing. Her eyes were riveted upon the
boy with the brown, flowing curls ; there was something
strangely familiar in the outline of his figure.
She, too, was thinking of the past.
Anna's delight in her gem of a picture was unbounded ;
and when she ran to meet the artist, who shortly made
28*
330 WHY DID HE NOT DTE?
his appearance, and, extending her hands to him, thanked
him with beaming looks, while his dark eyes rested ten-
derly upon her, Netta said to herself: " She is very, very
happy, and I I was a fool !"
She succeeded in the morning in avoiding every oppor-
tunity to speak with Reichard, frustrating each en-
deavour of his to obtain a moment's conversation with
her, well knowing that she must encase herself in triple
armour when the evening should arrive.
The rooms in the fine old house were once more thrown
open and brilliantly lighted ; the gallery was most care-
fully arrayed, that full justice might be done to the prin-
cipal treasures that it contained. The guests were far
more numerous than Herr Gravensund had at first in-
tended. Therese had understood how to swell their list,
upon the pretence of not " offending any one by omitting
them." She was in her glory, exulting once more in
her position as hostess, and even Reichard, who was one
of the latest arrivals, was dazzled, as he entered the spa-
cious drawing-room, where she received her guests, by
her appearance, splendid as she was in a dress of garnet
velvet.
Of course he paid his dutiful respects to her, and then
it seemed as if she took some pains to retain him by her
side. He made use of a moment, however, when a fresh
arrival presented, to slip away, and was at the other
end of the room when Therese turned again to con-
tinue the conversation. She cast an angry glance at him
as she observed him moving towards the portiere through
which he must have seen Anna leaning back in a low
chair, and graciously receiving the congratulations of
her friends.
Netta stood beside her, preventing her with loving
care from exerting herself too much in conversation, and
THE BIRTHDAY FETE. 331
watching her every look with all a sister's fondness. She
was suddenly aware of the gaze of a pair of dark eyes,
and, after glancing at Reichard, she leaned over Anna
and whispered jestingly, " He is coming?"
" Who ?" asked Anna, looking around the room, and
then turning inquiring eyes upon Netta.
" Who ? my darling ! Does not your heart tell
you ?"
" My heart ? Why, Netta, you can't mean Doctor
Bergen ? And I don't see him, either." And she looked
around the room again.
" Doctor Bergen I Anna, Anna ! I'm afraid you're a
sad hypocrite. I mean some one very different."
" Who ?" asked Anna, with an expression of utter
perplexity.
" Look there, to the right of the entrance."
Anna looked to where Reichard stood, detained in
conversation by Victori. Both were gazing at the
young girls, as if they had formed the subject of conver-
sation, and both bowed, as Anna's glance rested upon
them. Then they slowly began to make their way through
the throngs that intervened.
" Do you mean Victori, or Reichard?" Anna asked, in
a low voice.
"Why, Reichard, of course."
Anna burst into a silvery laugh. " Reichard ? why, he
never even makes pretty speeches to me. He is just the
same as my uncle, or even my grandfather, as for that
matter."
" You young ladies are very merry," said the voice of
him of whom they were speaking.
"Or rather, Fraulein Anna is," Victori added. "We
were just saying that the sisters seem to have changed
characters this evening : Friiuleiu Anna's cheeks bloom
332 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
like the roses in her hair, while Fraulein Antoinette looks
white and statuesque."
Instantly Netta blushed rosy red, and tried to inter-
rupt Anna, who told how her sister had looked quite pale
since the previous evening. She was afraid she was ill,
and would not say so, for fear of spoiling their enjoy-
ment.
Netta protested, on the contrary, that she felt perfectly
well, and, although she caught an anxious glance from
Keichard's eyes, she turned to Victor!, and engaged him
in merry talk, leaving Reichard and her sister to each
other. Still, she could not quite command her attention ;
she lent half an ear to what passed between Anna and
Reichard. " For," she said to herself, " I must be con-
vinced; Anna's unconsciousness proves nothing."
She eluded Reichard, who half suspected her studied
avoidance of him : if he approached a group among
whom his eye had detected Netta's wreath of white roses,
its wearer vanished before he could accost her, and so
skilfully was the manoeuvre accomplished, that he really
could not decide whether it were accident or design.
It was more than an hour since Netta had last seen the
artist. Jesting and laughing with her young companions,
she flitted from one room to another, and, if all had not
been engrossed with themselves, they would have ob-
served her wandering glances, and have discovered that
her thoughts were far away from the hum and flutter
around her.
At last she entered a small room that separated the
picture-gallery from the large drawing-room, and that
had been converted into a perfect flower-garden. In the
opposite doorway turned away from the throng in the
large room, Reichard was leaning, his arms folded, his
head bent, apparently quite alone. But no, he started,
THE BIRTHDAY FETE. 333
as if roused from a profound reverie, and Netta saw the
folds of her " mamma's" garnet velvet robe.
" Aha ! here we have an interesting, lonely dreamer,
who would be sought before he is found."
"I should be sorry to deserve such an imputation,
madame," was the reply ; " least of all could it be urged
against me at this moment."
" I mean, of course, only by the younger ladies," said
Therese, with some sharpness ; " but you seem to absent
yourself from the general gayety."
" Not at all, I was only resting for a few moments,"
Reichard replied, and made as if he would re-enter the
room he had left. But Madame Gravensund did not
stir, and therefore he was compelled to remain.
" Our house is really gay to-night," said Therese. " I
am so glad for Gravensund's sake : it is long since I
have seen him as cheerful as he is at present."
" I have scarcely spoken to him yet is he at cards ?"
asked Reichard, still hoping to be released.
" Oh, no, I saw him just now in the midst of the young
girls, he amuses himself with them, and scarcely takes
his eyes off of Anna."
" Fraulein Anna seems so well to-night."
" Well ? Is it possible you can think so ? I shudder
at those hectic roses in her cheeks. It requires almost
superhuman strength on my part to conceal my feelings.
To-night, Ilerr Reichard, I am haunted by a vision of
that fair, delicate frame lying with folded hands in her
coffin."
"But, madame "
" Ah, my sufferings are fearful ! Her dead face, not
pale, but flushed, as at present, is constantly before me ;
these flowers, these lights, all borrow a ghastly bloom
and glare, to my excited fancy. I shiver with alternate
334 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
heat and cold." And she fanned her glowing cheeks
with her carved ivory fan.
"Ah, Herr Senator, I must always chide you for being
late." And she turned gaily to a gentleman who had just
arrived and whom her husband conducted towards her.
Reichard gazed after her in bewildered amazement.
Were her remarks made for his especial benefit ? He had
understood the father's allusion to his child's youth and
delicate health ; but what did these horrible hints mean ?
And a suspicion of secret plots and snares dawned upon
the young man's mind. As if he had suddenly perceived
a coiling adder, he turned away with a gesture of aver-
sion, and saw Netta's pale face close beside him.
"Do not believe her, Herr Reichard. What secret
ends she has to answer I do not know, but what she
says is not true," Netta gasped out in extreme agitation,
trembling with anger, and paler than she had been
before during the entire evening.
" If you, do not believe her, Friiulein Netta, why should
I ? You must be better informed than any one except
the physician," Reichard replied.
"If she believed it herself; but she does not, and
how can she be so cruel as to say it to you to you of
all others? She must rejoice in beholding the misery of
her fellow-creatures, or she has some cause for special
enmity towards you."
"There you touch, Friiulein Netta, upon what has
sometimes occurred to me, although "
" Yes, yes, it must be so I Do not believe her. My
darling sister will not die, shall not die, but she must
be dealt with gently, she must be spared all agitation.
Never forget what I say now, Herr Reichard, for Anna's
sake, for your own sake, the sake of your own future
happiness. I I "
THE BIRTHDAY FETE. 335
" I do not understand you, Fraulein Netta," Reichard
suddenly said in a cold, hard tone. This was the third
warning he had received.
In amazement and confusion Netta looked up into the
young man's flashing eyes. Did he really not under-
stand her ? Had she been too forward for her sister's
honour, when she had meant to be the self-forgetting
guardian of that sister's happiness ? She made no
reply.
" Netta ! I will know, I must know, what your words
mean. I have a right to an explanation !"
In vain the girl attempted to speak. Her nerves had
been overstrained all day long, and at this moment she
lost all her native self-possession and control.
Suddenly delicious sounds filled the air: a master-
hand struck the keys of the piano, conversation ceased
on the instant, and the guests thronged towards the
music-room.
Netta breathed freely once more, and, with a forbid-
ding gesture, turned to follow them.
Reicbard placed himself in her path.
" You have made allusion to the happiness of my
future life, for the sake of that happiness I conjure you
to hear me. Let the music go! I could not listen to
the music of the spheres if it were sounding in my ears
at this moment. And yet, fool that I am Fraulein
Netta, will you listen to that symphony, or will you listen
to me ?" And involuntarily the artist laid his hand upon
her arm.
" I yield to violence," said Netta, and an arch smile
played around her pale lips as she looked down at her
arm.
But Reichard's eyes gleamed. " Come, then !" he cried,
drawing her hand through his arm, and leading her away
336 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
to a retired corner of the picture-gallery, where there was
a low divan.
Scarcely conscious of what she was doing, Netta sat
down, and Reichard took his place beside her. Here the
music sounded faint and dreamlike, but it created a wall
of separation from the outer world and held aloof all
prying listeners.
"When I first frequented your father's house last
summer," Reichard began, " and saw your sister, I was
bewitched by the grace and beauty of so fairy-like a
creature. She inspired me with the most enthusiastic
admiration, my fancy was held captive, I longed to be a
portrait-painter or a sculptor, that I might immortalize
such perfect harmony of form and colour. I confess she
was my chief attraction. My imagination endowed her
with every ideal charm that could heighten a woman's
beauty. I loved her " Why did Reichard hesitate
and look fixedly at Netta while he slowly uttered these
last words ? The young girl sat motionless before him
without raising her eyes.
" I loved her," the artist continued, " but not as a woman
should be loved whom a man desires to make the com-
panion of his future life. I loved her as one loves a child
or some exquisite toy, although I hardly comprehended
this then, because because then I knew no other love."
Could not Reichard see the beating of his listener's
heart ? Netta was sure he must hear it. And could he
not see her hand tremble ? No, for his own heart was
beating wildly, and his voice quivered with profound
emotion.
"And Anna ?" Netta asked almost in a whisper, and
yet there was something stern in her manner.
" Her peace of mind was never disturbed by me. She
does not love me, she does not even understand what
THE BIRTHDAY FETE. 337
love means. I still cherish the same regard for her with
which she first inspired me, but now I understand myself
and my own emotions."
" Then our important conference is ended," said Netta,
compelling her voice to a jesting tone and rising from the
lounge.
"No, not ended," replied Reichard, taking her hand
and gently drawing her down again. "No, far from
ended yet, Netta. Will you not hear me ?"
" I shall be missed, the music "
Reichard listened for a moment. " You will not be
missed, the first part of the symphony is not yet con-
cluded. Once more I coujure you for the sake of my
future happiness. You must hear me!"
"If I must, then."
Reichard sighed heavily, as if he could scarcely find
words to begin, and then spoke :
" My path through life hitherto has been thorny and
rugged enough. Sometimes the struggle threatened to
be beyond my strength, and yet I cannot envy those who
are born to an assured position in the world, a position
that it requires no effort on their part to maintain. I was
born in poverty and degradation ; all that I am I owe
solely to my own exertions. The woman I love must
take pride in this, I dare not love one to whom I should
have to excuse my origin. The woman whom I love
is no submissive, cowardly creature, content to accept
whatever chance may assign her as her lot in life, but
one who asserts and claims a position of usefulness in
the world, a woman in thoughts of whom I lose sight
of all distinctions of rank. I see only the playmate of
my childhood, who "
Here Reichard suddenly rose and paused, for he had
not intended to throw off his incognito thus. But Netta
29
338 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
raised her shining eyes to his, and " Richard 1" came
trembling from her lips.
" Netta !" cried the artist, taking her hands in his and
raising her from the lounge. " Do you know me, then ?
Did you know me?"
" Long ago."
" And tell me, is there no stain upon me in your mem-
ory of our childhood?"
"No, Richard, no," Netta replied, looking full into his
eyes. " I never believed evil of you, I prayed so for
you ; but Mam'selle Therese "
" Was and is my enemy, although she does not know
who I am. But what have we to do with her now ?
Oh, Netta, my darling, do you not know whom I have
been telling you of who it is whom I love ?"
Netta could not speak.
" You must know that it is yourself. You were the
one bright memory of my joyless childhood. Oh, how I
have cherished it ! I came hither for your sake alone.
I loved Anna because she was your sister. And when
your father was so cordial and kind to me I accepted it
as a happy omen I stayed on. When you came, Netta,
my dearest, my whole life grew to be one long hope.
Speak to me, Netta. Must this hope be shattered?
Must I go hence, crushed and despairing, or shall I have
you for my own, my very own, in life and death ?"
Netta threw her arms around his neck and burst into
tears.
." For life and death," she tried to say, but she could
not speak, and Reichard closed her lips with kisses.
" And that these very walls should look upon my hap-
piness !" he said after a pause, too full of feeling for
words. " Ah, child, you cannot dream how I have suf-
fered ; but I will tell you all, all, my whole life shall lie
THE BIRTHDAY FETE. 339
open before you. But tell me your father, he will
oppose no obstacle to our happiness ?"
" No, no, never."
" I cannot think he will. I tried to have a private
interview with him a few days ago, but not on your
account, my darling. No, no, I could not then have
believed in happiness so near at hand, and "
The music suddenly ceased and Reichard paused.
The hubbub of voices arose again in the adjoining rooms,
and there was a rustle among the guests that warned
the lovers that they were liable to interruption at any
moment.
"We must part I must go, Richard," said Netta
hastily, extricating herself from his clasp.
" I am going home," Reichard replied. " I cannot go
back to that crowd. I shall not be missed, and if I
am To-morrow, Netta, to-morrow."
And he hurried away and out of the house, that the
air of the quiet February night might cool his heated
brow. Netta mingled again among the guests ; her ab-
sence had not been noticed.
"My child," said Herr Gravensund, "your cheeks are
crimson, and awhile ago you were so pale. I trust you
are not feverish ?"
" Not in the least, father dear, but this is such a
delightful evening."
" Yes, yes, all seem to be enjoying themselves, and
you are positively radiant."
" It is the light of the chandeliers that is very becom-
ing," laughed Netta, and left him that she might avoid
further remark.
340 WET DID HE NOT DIE?
CHAPTER XL
FATHER AND SON.
THE next day, during the unusual bustle that is apt to
prevail on the morrow of a large entertainment, Herr
Gravensund sat alone and undisturbed in his study,
which was, of course, never thrown open to evening
guests. He was rather weary and languid, but in a
very cheerful mood, and well satisfied with the previous
ev^ping, which had restored him to the habits of his life
of late years. Disinclined to read or study, he was look-
ing over his papers and occupying himself with one and
another small matter when there was a knock at his door,
and he was greatly pleased by the entrance of the artist
Reichard.
"Aha! good-morning, good-morning!" Gravensund
called out to him. " Where did you go yesterday even-
ing?"
" I have come to make my excuses," replied Reichard.
" I missed you, I looked for you and asked after you,
but no one could tell anything about you ; you had gone,
sans adieu."
. " I have come solely and simply to explain everything
to you."
"Explain? What a significant beginning ! Besides
But what is the matter ? You look so very grave. What
has happened ?"
"Much," said Reichard, smiling, "and you shall hear
FATHER AND SON. 341
it all if you have an hour to spare me, and can insure
our being free from interruption."
" As many hours as you please," Gravensund replied.
"Anna is in her own room to-day, and the others are
' not at home.' "
Reichard took a seat and began with the air of a man
who has a long story to tell :
" You received me into your house, Herr Gravensund,
and admitted me upon terms of social intimacy to your
family circle, without asking who I was, or whence I
came. You know nothing of my birth or of my past "
" You are a man of education and culture, is not that
enough ?" Gravensund interrupted him.
" Under all ordinary circumstances, and up to a certain
point, yes. But the circumstances now are not ordinary,
and I have reached the point when it is my duty to
speak."
" This sounds quite mysterious," said Gravensund,
leaning back in his arm-chair and folding his arms.
" There is a mystery about it. There has always been
a mystery about my life, and it has been partially cleared
up only within the last few days. But first let me tell
you that I was not a stranger in your house: many
years ago I used to be here frequently, and play with
your children."
" Impossible ! And yet I have sometimes thought
but I cannot remember."
" Can you not remember a boy named Richard ?"
"Richard? Oh, yes!" Gravensund made reply, and
grew painfully embarrassed.
"A boy who was accused of theft, but who never
stole," Reichard continued, emphasizing each word dis-
tinctly.
" Let us forget that childish tale."
29*
342 WHY DID HE NOT DTE?
"Forget? By no means. This 'childish tale' has
burdened my whole existence. Now I trust at last I
shall be relieved from its weight. I am Richard Kurten.
The consequences entailed upon me by the discovery of
that unlucky coin I will relate to you another time,
now, I have much else to tell. You, Herr Gravensund,
I never blamed ; you were always good and kind to me,
and you could not but be deceived by appearances. I
could never have crossed your threshold with hatred
towards you in my heart. Now tell me, do you trust my
honour ? do you believe me to-day capable of a lie ?"
" I will stake my honour upon your simple yes or no !"
Gravensund exclaimed warmly ; for the thought of hav-
ing unconsciously wronged the boy formerly, distressed
him greatly.
" Well, then, I never took that coin ; I never put it in
my cap. Who did it, trusting thus to drive me from
your doors, I do not know I cannot tell my conscience
was clear."
" Forgive me, my dear fellow, forgive me !" cried
Gravensund, offering him his hand. " You said yourself
that "
" That you were not to blame, no, no 1 But I wanted
the satisfaction of this moment. I could not pass over
the matter in silence, it would have been weakness on my
part. Enough of it now forever. It almost touches my
honour even to mention it."
" My dear fellow, you are too sensitive. Suppose you
had taken the coin, do you think the man should answer
for the consequences of childish greed ?"
" If the child's crime were degrading yes. Too sensi-
tive, do you say? Possibly. But if you possessed
nothing in the world save one jewel in the possession of
which you were rich, and without which, a beggar, would
FATHER AND SON. 343
you not guard it as the true believer his amulet ? This
jewel of mine is my honour. Many a time in my life I
have not known where to lay my head at night, I have
had no shelter in winter's cold and summer's heat, I have
almost starved, but I have always preserved my honour
untarnished. I cannot even speak of my good name, for
nothing is my own save honour. I have neither name
nor family, neither father nor mother."
"My dear, good Reichard, you are a magnificent
fellow I" said Gravensund, much moved. "But what is it
that you say about your good name ? . Honour is a good
name. Your name is Kurten. Are your parents dead ?"
"My mother is dead, but both the Kurtens are still
living."
" How so ? Were they not your parents ?"
" No, only my foster-parents, distant relatives, who
took pity upon a motherless child. "
" And is your father dead ?"
" My father ? I do not know, I am one of those
unfortunates who never had a father."
"0 h !" exclaimed Gravensund. And Reichard
could not fail to perceive the fatal impression his words
had made upon his friend, who was aware of the possi-
bility of his being asked to bestow his daughter upon this
nameless man.
" I myself learned this only a few days ago," Reich-
ard continued ; " that is, I was then told by the Kurtens
all that they knew, very little in fact, and nothing of my
father, except that they were led to conclude from the
broken exclamations of my dying mother, that he was a
wealthy, influential man, and that his name was Wilhelm,
quite too frequent a name, as my foster-mother rightly
thinks, to be the basis for any inquiry concerning him ;
and I have growu indifferent myself to all such inquiry."
344 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
" Yes, yes, I suppose so," said Gravensund, who really
could not tell how to show sufficient sympathy for the
young man, and whose thoughts were naturally full of his
daughter.
Reichard perceived this, but he was determined not to
conceal anything that he knew, or to slur over his story,
so he continued : " There is a part of the city of which you
must have heard, but which I doubt if you have ever seen.
I allude to the Grange viertel."
"I have never been there," Gravensund replied, wrap-
ping his costly dressing-gown about him with a slight
shiver.
" One of the most wretched allevs in that quarter of the
town is called the Ebriiergang."
"Ebraergang?"
" Yes ; do you know it?"
"Only by name."
" I was born there."
Just then the Nemesis of retribution whispered in Gra-
vensund's ear : " Wretch ! do you dare to account an
accident of birth a stain upon a man, when you yourself
you yourself? Out upon you, arrogant Pharisee that
you are !"
" My very dear friend, I value you infinitely more that
you have made your own way upwards from the dark-
ness of obscurity." And Gravensund held out his hand
to the artist, who pressed it gratefully.
" Yes, and my mother died there. It is twenty-six
years ago, but it will be the great grief of my life that
I never knew her," said Reichard, in tones of deep emo-
tion, leaning his head on his hand. " In every trial of
my life I have always felt, ' If I only had a mother, this
would not be.' She was called Marie," he went on, drift-
ing along the current of bis thoughts, " ' Pretty Marie'
FATHER AND SON. 345
was the name she went by among her intimate acquaint-
ances."
Gravensund gave a great start, and stood up. " What,
what do you say ?" he cried, seizing the artist by the
arm. " What was your mother's name ?"
"Marie."
" Go on ! go on 1"
" Marie Gunther."
"My son! God of heaven, my own son!" cried Gra-
vensund, extending his arms.
Reichard, too, had sprung up. Pale as ashes he stood
leaning with one hand upon the table by his side, but he
did not advance to throw himself into his father's arms;
on the contrary, he recoiled a few steps.
There was a pause. Gravensund's arms fell by his
sides.
" You my father ? you, the wealthy, influential man
who left my mother to perish in misery "
"No! no!"
"And I have sworn to avenge her."
Gravensund buried his face in his hands.
" This the father whom I have cursed !"
" Stay ! stay ! Oh, hear me ! My son, your father im-
plores you. There is some terrible mystery here. You
are my son, I cannot doubt it, you were born in March ?
I knew it. Marie Gunther was my love was to have
been my bride ; I was blind that I did not know you for
her son long ago. You have her dark, brilliant eyes,
her brow crowned by brown curls oh, where were my
eyes ? I trace all her features in your face. Now I know
why I have loved you so. Not because you arc my
son, no, no, the voice of nature was mute, but because
you bring back to me the lineaments of my first fond
love, my darling, who would have been my wife had she
346 WHY DID ITS NOT DIE?
not been snatched from me by pitiless death. But of
your existence I knew nothing. A moment ago you
asked me a question. I ask you the same, ' Do you be-
lieve me capable of a lie ?' "
" No!"
"Then hear me declare that it was not my fault that
your mother died poor and neglected. I did not leave
my child in misery and want. At the time of your birth
I was in Mexico. Here here is the letter." And Gra-
vensund began with trembling hands to search among
the letters in the old portfolios, which he had been look-
ing over, without, in his hurry and agitation, finding
what he sought. " I had the letter in my hand, a mo-
ment since, the letter telling me that both mother and
child were dead. God knows I mourned you sincerely,
mourned bitterly for your mother, and I would have
cherished you as a precious legacy from her. Now you
are dear to me for your own sake. My son, have you
no love to give your father?"
Gravensund no longer opened his arms in vain. Father
and son were clasped in a close embrace.
Gravensund was the first to speak. " I have a son of
whom I can indeed be proud. You shall bear my name
I will acknowledge you immediately. It is but a small
atonement, your brother and your sisters "
"My sisters!" Reichard repeated, his blood curd-
ling with horror. " She is my sister !" He stag-
gered back upon a seat and grew deadly pale, while
the room became dark, and everything danced before
his eyes.
In the first moment of startled amazement, the son
had thought only of the father, the father only of the
son. A lightning flash of consciousness suddenly revealed
the true state of affairs, and upon the fleeting moment
FATHER AND SON. 34 f
of happiness there followed a pause, the woe of which
was increased tenfold for Gravensund by the pangs of
remorse.
" Oh, God !" he said at last, " are you, then, a God of
vengeance, that you punish thus fearfully the sins of my
youth ?"
" But I, what have I done ?" cried Reichard with the
toneless energy of despair. " Must ingenuity be ex-
hausted to devise fresh torments for me ?" He covered
his face with his hands. He felt his father's hand gently
placed upon his own, but he involuntarily shrank from
its touch ; for had not this father taken his love from
him and given him a sister in exchange ? She his sister!
Long, long years must pass before he could in the least
accustom himself to the thought. What to him were a
recovered father and the ties of family ? They were
his curse, he must flee from them to the uttermost ends
of the earth.
It pierced Gravensund to the heart to see his son
shrink from him, but he was so crushed that he never
thought of resenting it.
" Richard, my son, are my sufferings less than yours ?
Not only is my heart filled with pain for you and for my
daughter, and you know how dear she is to me, but the
thought of your dead mother's woe and misery, of which I
now know for the first time, overwhelms me with anguish.
I am pierced with a triple sword."
Reichard looked up into the pale features quivering with
pain, and his heart throbbed warmly for an instant. He
clasped his father's hand, but he could not speak. Gentle
words of comfort, of affection, of touching tenderness
issued from Gravensund's lips, but there was no comfort
for Reicbard, although he was open to the consciousness,
that fell like balm upon his soul, that perhaps a father's
348 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
tenderness might indemnify him for the loss of the love
of that mother whom he had never known.
He arose and took his hat.
" Are you going ? Where are you going ?"
"Away to my home I do not know."
" Have the carriage. Let me go with you."
"No, I must be alone. Heaven help me through this
fearful struggle ! Tell her her whom yet no better
not say nothing. Spare her all you can I Tell her I
am gone upon a journey."
"How will she survive it?" cried Gravensund, grow-
ing, if possible, paler than before.
Reichard did not answer, but stood for an instant lost
in thought.
" When shall I see you again, Richard ? Come again
this evening."
" Come again ? come again ?" and he laughed bit-
terly, " to greet my bride who is my sister 1 Shall I
come, father ?"
The cold drops stood upon poor Gravensuud's brow.
Every weakness, every fault of his life, was expiated in
this hour of agony.
" I will come to you to-night ; promise me not to go
out, Richard dear Richard."
" You think there might be danger for me in crossing
a bridge or passing along the river-bank? You may be
right," Reichard said pitilessly. " But no, no ! I will not
stir from home. I will await you, father await my father
for the first time in my life. 'Tis a mad world ! I came
out to woo a bride and found a father ! This rendezvous
has all the charm of novelty."
And he laughed again wearily.
" I will not leave you ! you must stay here ! " cried
Gravensund in deadly terror. " You shall be alone, stay
FATHER AND SON. 349
here in my room ! I will give it up to you. Lock your-
self in. No one shall suspect that you are here."
" Stay here ?" said Reichard slowly. " No, no," he
added in a gentler tone, " do not ask it 1 Beneath the
same roof with her ! it is impossible ! But never fear.
I will do myself no harm ; but but I am so wretched
so wretched 1" And his strong frame shook with
emotion.
Poor Gravensund was in despair. He would have
given his heart's blood to be able at this moment to admin-
ister one drop of comfort. But there was none. This
misery must be borne.
At the end of half an hour Reichard left the house. He
thought he heard soft footsteps on the stairs above, as
he closed the study door, and he rushed away like some
murderer lashed by the furies.
Gravensund was left alone, but his heart and soul were
full of his new-found son, the son so formed to be the
pride of his heart, the prop and stay of his age. And
his other, his legitimate son, who bad been cradled in
luxury beneath the shelter of the paternal roof, upon
whom such sums had been lavished, what of him ?
Both had fled from their homes, the one never to return ;
the other had returned with honour. The comparison
was infinitely bitter for the poor father, especially as he
had found a son only to lose him again. It was impos-
sible under the circumstances that Reichard should make
Hamburg his home, at least for many years to come.
And his daughter! He grew faint and sick at the
thought of her. What did she know of the young man's
love ? How far did she share it, or did she share it at
all ? Oh, who could help loving him ? Why had he not
asked Reichard himself? Still, Anna had seemed so
30
350 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
carelessly happy. He had watched her narrowly the
day before.
Unspeakably miserable, Gravensuud paced to and fro,
vainly seeking to prepare himself for an interview with
Anna.
At last the clock struck four, and a servant announced
that dinner was upon the table. Gravensund went to
the dining-room. Therese and Netta were already there,
and there were plates laid but for one more.
" Where is Anna? Is she not coming?"
" She wishes to have her dinner sent to her in her own
room," replied Madame Gravensund, taking up the soup-
ladle. " She seems rather nervous to-day."
"Indeed? Nervous? What about, Netta, do you
know ?"
Netta blushed crimson. " We have been talking to-
gether a great deal, but she is quite well."
" Good heavens, Wilhelm ! Anna has not recovered
from last evening's excitement; and no wonder," said
Frau Therese. " I am quite nervous myself. But you,
Gravensund, look wretchedly. Are you ill?"
" Is anything the matter ? Are you ill, papa ?" asked
Netta, going to him.
" 111 ? I ? Not at all. But I'll not take any soup, I
don't feel hungry. I'll go and see Anna."
He arose and went. He could not possibly sit still
and converse upon indifferent subjects.
Therese looked after him in some surprise, and Netta
was startled. She knew Reichard had been with him.
What had happened ? What could have happened ?
Had she anything to do with it ? What had she to
fear, now that she was certain of his love? She had
been filled all day long with an exultant sense of bliss,
and her faith in him and the future was unbounded. But
FATHER AND SON. 351
she was not hungry, she had no need of earthly food ;
and Madame Gravensund ate her dinner alone, simply
observing that she was the only one whose appetite had
not been spoiled by the previous night's supper.
Gravensund entered Anna's room, exerting himself to
the utmost, that she might not be startled by his counte-
nance or manner. He forced his voice to be cheerful,
and a smile was upon his lips. To be sure, he could not
prevent the paleness of his cheeks, but, fortunately,
Anna had just drawn the crimson curtain of her window
to exclude the dazzling sun, and there was a red glow
bathing every object in the room. He stood behind her
chaise-longue, resting his arms upon the back of it, and
bent down over her.
" Child, are you suffering to-day?" he asked, laying his
hand upon her forehead as if he suspected she had fever.
" Not at all, papa," Anna replied cheerfully. " I am only
a little tired, and Netta thought I bad better not dress for
dinner, but have it sent up to me. She is too anxious
about me. I am remarkably bright to-day." And she took
her father's hand and played mechanically with the heavy
gold circlet that he always wore upon his little finger.
" But, father dear, you are trembling I" she continued,
suddenly turning and looking up in his face. " Is any-
thing the matter with you ?"
" With me ? No. What could be the matter ? The
position of my arms makes my hand shake." And he drew
his hand away.
"But, indeed, you look pale," said Anna again.
" Well, we all look a little pale to-day. Even mamma
complains. And I have bad a visit."
" Did he come, father ?" And it went to the poor
father's heart to see how she turned quickly, with joy
lighting everv feature.
352 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
" Who, my child ? Who is this he ?" he asked with a
sad smile.
" Why, Reichard ! I know all about it, father dear.
Netta has told me everything."
" Netta ? Did he not tell you himself?"
" Why, I have not seen him at all to-day ; but I am all
impatience. Why did he not come up-stairs?"
" It was so late "
" How could he go away? I cannot understand it. Is
he coming this evening ?" And Anna suddenly started
up from her reclining position, and turning, sat down upon
her lounge and looked full at her father. She was evi-
dently moved, and very pleasantly so.
"My child, do you, then, love him so much?" he
asked almost with a breaking heart.
" Indeed I do. I'm awfully fond of him. I could dance
and sing all day long."
" But, dearest Anna, you are so young."
" What "
"In a couple of years, perhaps, you might, I
mean "
"I don't understand, papa."
" I never supposed you would be thinking of marriage."
"And indeed I don't think of it at all."
"But the early engagement."
"Netta will soon be twenty-two years old."
" Netta ! yes, Netta ! Why do you want to outstrip
her?"
Anna shook her head in utter bewilderment. " Papa,
what do you mean?"
" I mean that I think you might stay with me a couple
of years longer. I cannot let my dearest child leave me
so soon."
" Good heavens, papa ! what could put such an idea
FATHER AND SON. 353
into your head ? Of course I will stay with you stay
with you always. I shall never marry ; but Netta may
marry. You have no objection to make, I'm sure ?"
"No, of course not."
" And I'm sure you are fond of Reichard."
" Yes, but he must not take my treasure from me."
A ray of sudden intelligence shot from Anna's eyes
and an arch smile played around her lips. Standing on
tiptoe, she twirled around in a short waltz and laughed
so merrily that her father looked at her with surprise
and some anxiety.
" Papa," she asked suddenly, as if catechizing him
severely, " who is your treasure, Netta or I ?"
" Why, I love Netta dearly, you know "
" Who is your treasure ? Answer me."
"You."
" And whom do you think Reichard loves ?"
"You."
"All wrong, all wrong, father pet 1 He loves Netta;
he wants to marry Netta ; he cares nothing for me. I
do very well for a sister-in-law, perhaps. But he en-
gaged himself to Netta yesterday evening, only think,
while the symphony was playing 1 Good heavens! hasn't
he told you yet? Netta told me all about it, and that's
why I'm so merry to-day." And again she waltzed about
the room in glee.
It was too much for Gravensund. Not only Anna but
everything in the room whirled before his eyes for a mo-
ment, and then all grew dark, and Anna saw him stagger
and drop into a chair.
" Oh, dearest father, what is the matter ? Papa, papa!"
she screamed, throwing her arms around him, as she
shrieked for help, for she did not dare to leave him.
Her scream was heard instantly in the quiet house.
30*
354 WET DID HE NOT DIE?
Madame Therese and Netta came running from the
dining-room, followed by several servants. They laid
the fainting man on Anna's lounge and soon restored
him to consciousness.
" How was it ? How did it happen ?" was asked on
all sides ; but Anna could not explain it. She did not
wish to tell what she had been speaking of to her father,
and then, too, she never suspected the powerful impres-
sion that her last words had made upon the agitated
man.
"He could not have been well before," she said, "his
hands trembled."
" Yes," said Madame Therese, " he ate nothing and
looked miserably. Last evening was too much for him ;
he slept but little, too." There were reasons enough for
his exhaustion, and no one suspected the torture through
which the poor man had passed during the last few
hours.
When Gravensund opened his eyes he looked around
him for a few moments, collecting himself, and then there
came an expression of distress into his face.
" Have I been long unconscious ? What o'clock is it ?"
he asked hurriedly.
" No, not long, it is just five o'clock."
" I must go out. Tell Christian to bring round the
carriage immediately."
"But, father but, Wilhelm !"
" I must I must ! For Heaven's sake, do not prevent
me ! A human life may depend upon my promptitude !"
" A human life ? Cannot Christian "
" No, no ! Oh, do not delay me ! Do not make me
impatient! I can bear nothing more to-day." And he
turned to the window, opened it, and called out " Chris-
tian ! Christian !"
FATHER AND SON. 355
"Here !" replied a voice from below.
" Harness your horses as quick as you can. Here's a
thaler for you if you are ready in ten minutes. Therese,
bring me my overcoat, I pray, Netta, my hat and
cane !"
Wondering, all complied with his requests. It was
very unlike him to speak thus, or to require service from
any one.
" Papa, where are you going ?" Anna asked implor-
ingly when they were alone together for an instant.
" To Reichard's, my darling ; all will go well now. I
thought he wanted you, and that you know that
Oh, here are my coat and hat! Now, if Christian were
only ready!"
" Where are you going ?" asked Therese.
" To the artist Reichard's," he replied again ; for why
should there be any concealment ? There was need of
none.
No one replied. Therese went with him to the car-
riage, and, when they had left the room, Netta looked
inquiringly at her sister.
Anna told her what had happened, and, after a con-
sultation, the girls concluded that there must have been
a misunderstanding between their father and Reichard.
Their father must have believed Reichard to be asking
for Anna instead of Netta, and had therefore refused his
consent. But why he should have done so, or what had
caused his profound agitation, they could not divine ;
they could only wait eagerly and impatiently for further
developments.
Gravensund found the artist's door locked, and there
was no answer to his knock; only when he called in
subdued tones, "Reichard, it is I Gravensund open
356 . WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
quickly I bring you good news !" unsteady footsteps
were heard within, and the door was opened by the artist.
There was no surprise, no expectation, no hope in his
pale face ; there was no room in his torn heart for such
emotions. Good news ? What good news could there
be for him ?
His eyes sparkling, his cheeks glowing, Gravensund
entered the room, and in a few words explained the whole
misunderstanding to his son.
Almost every one has experienced the sudden transition
from serene content to profound grief. Few of us are
spared this knowledge ; but the sensations of one who,
having laid the hopes of his existence in their coffin and
buried them deep, with pangs of bitterest agony, sud-
denly sees the dead restored to life, blooming more freshly
than ever, are more rarely felt. Fate does not often deal
in cheating visions of despair.
The sudden revulsion of feeling from utter woe to in-
describable delight was almost as great a shock to
Reichard as it had been to his father, but his nerves were
firm. It was strange to see the effect that his father's
disclosures had upon the whole expression of his face
and figure. Dull surprise, then incredulity and bewilder-
ment, succeeded each the other in his countenance, to be
followed by an electric glow of happiness that quite
transfigured him.
" My love, then, and not my sister ! Not your daugh-
ter!" he repeated, time and again. " No, no ! not even
related to you by blood ! It was only a frightful dream,
an oppressive nightmare ! Oh, it was horrible 1"
" My poor, poor son I"
"No!" exclaimed Reichard, "not poor rich, oh, so
rich ! I have a father, a sister, and a love ! a love !
Netta, my darling ! Now I know what it is tg be blest,
FATHER AND SON. 357
after the torture that I have endured. How much can
be endured ! A moment since I was insane with pain, and
now my heart will break, I think, with too much bliss."
Gravensund looked on while he poured forth such
phrases as these, and took ineffable delight in his son's
sparkling eyes, and the wild words with which he re-
lieved his heart. His wonted self-control was scattered
to the winds.
" I rave," he said, " I know it, father, but I am delir-
iousI must rave. I should tell it all to the walls of
my room were I alone, or I should seek some profound
solitude. But you, you may know all my madness, all
this delicious folly, you are my father. And Netta,
my guardian angel ! my love ! How could it be that I
did not know she was not your daughter, my father ?
Why did no one tell me ?"
"Probably because it is such an old story, so well
known in our circle of acquaintances, that no one thought
of mentioning it. But how could it be," Gravensund
added, "that I knew nothing of your existence? that
question is not so easily answered. You shall see the
letter that Siegfried wrote me at the time of your birth."
"Siegfried? Siegfried?"
" Yes, Pastor Siegfried."
" Siegfried wrote you that I was dead the child of
Marie Gunther was dead? Siegfried? Siegfried?"
"Yes, yes!"
" Light begins to dawn upon me," said Reichard, an
angry flush upon his brow as he spoke, " but it reveals
terrible treachery. Are you sure that this letter is still
in your possession ?"
"I am sure that I have it."
" Can you request Siegfried to meet you to-morrow
forenoon at your house ?"
358 WffJT DID HE NOT DIE?
" Certainly I will write him a note."
" Will eleven o'clock suit you?"
"Any hour will suit me."
" Then leave the rest to me, only have the letter ready,
father. Let us leave the answer to your question until
to-morrow. It shall be answered -then, by Heaven !
And until to-morrow I entreat you to tell no one that I
was Richard Kurten. I have my reasons for this re-
quest."
" It shall be as you please," replied Gravensund.
" How terrible it would have been if Anna and I "
but Reichard could not complete the sentence. His mind
shrank from the horrible possibility that he had conjured
up.
11 Let us forget the misery that we have endured," said
Gravensund, after a pause, " we have cause enough to
be grateful. I, too, am rich indeed to-day. I have
gained a son. I will acknowledge you publicly, Richard.
I owe it to you and to my dear Netta."
" No, father, no 1" Reichard replied, endeavouring to
collect his thoughts. " This must be settled before I
yield to my impatience to see Netta. You shall not make
this sacrifice for my sake."
" Sacrifice ? Do you call it a sacrifice ?"
" Yes. Even leaving the opinion of the world out of
consideration, it is not easy for a father to confess to his
daughters, a husband to confess to his wife, the sins of
his youth. I will not have you bring disgrace upon your-
self for my sake."
" But, my son ! In my view of the case, I should
only be offering some atonement that might reconcile me
to myself."
" You are mistaken. To whom would you offer atone-
ment? To me? I must reject it. It is enough that
FATHER AND SON. 359
you and I know how ready you are to make this sacrifice.
It does not become me to take advantage of your magna-
nimity. Do not misunderstand me, father. 1 would'not
wound you, but I am proud, very proud. The honest
name that would have made my childhood happy, that
would have been like a rope flung to a drowning man in
the days of my poverty and degradation, cannot be mine
now, it is too late. The name that I have made for
myself has grown with me. It is my own. I cannot
change it like my coat. The artist cannot alter it as a
tradesman would the name of his firm. It has gained a
reputation. I am proud of my art, and of the name
which it dignifies. Let me retain it."
Gravensund bowed his head, and there was silence for
some moments. Of course it would have been hard to
make confession to his family and friends ; but he would
have made it unshrinkingly. Still, if Reichard did not
desire it And then he could not- but admit that his
son was right in declaring that the name of an artist
stands higher than that of a merely wealthy man. He
had no right to be offended at this assertion.
"You shall decide, Richard," he said, after awhile.
" When you marry Netta, you will be my son in the eyes
of the world."
" Yes, I may call you father, and be part of your family.
Netta shall know all. I will have no secrets from my
wife."
" There should be none, Richard," Gravensund replied
in a low tone. " In my place, however You see
it is a very different thing when a man of forty marries."
" Of course, of course."
" Any passionate love is out of the question then, and
I am not sure that Therese would rightly understand.
She is rather strict and stern, but you will respect and
360 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
esteem her?" Gravensund added in a tone of anxious
inquiry.
"31s my father's wife," Reichard replied. "But now
let us go, I am longing to see Netta. Oh, wjiat bliss to
feel her clasping arms after this wretched, wretched
day I"
" Come, come, the carriage is waiting."
They hurried down-stairs and bade the coachman
make all the haste that he could.
A happy evening closed this day ; the faces around
the table in the drawing-room beamed as never before.
Even Therese was content ; the artist was welcome to
Netta, who was not a daughter of the house, and who
had always been rather in the way. Really, it would be
quite a relief to have her home elsewhere.
Reichard had begged Netta not to mention the name
of Kurten, and so all were silent concerning the secret
which was known to each, for Anna had been enlightened
upon the subject of Reichard's birth by Netta in the
morning, although it inspired her with no particular
interest, as she had no remembrance of Richard Kurten.
" I shall like to know under what name the man will
be married," thought Therese. " Will he deceive Graven-
sund, I wonder? But I really don't care." And as she
had never been frank with Gravensund, she did not think
of asking him, "Do you know to whom you are giving
your ward ?" Oh, no, not for the world. She had nothing
to fear from the revelation of the artist's real name, but
it was always better to await passively the development
of affairs.
WHY HE DID NOT DIE. 361
CHAPTER XII.
WHY HE DID NOT DIE.
ON the same evening Pastor Siegfried was alone in
his study, with its dark-green curtains and portieres, the
same room in which we found him at the beginning of
our story, and furnished after the same fashion and
colour, for Pastor Siegfried liked stability and what he
was accustomed to. The number of engravings, however,
and of article? of virtu, had greatly increased, as was
natural with the increase of years ; among them the eye
was arrested by a huge silver inkstand and tray most
highly wrought and ornamented, serving more for show
than for use, a gift from his grateful flock, some time
before, upon the occasion of the celebration of the twenty-
fifth anniversary of their beloved Pastor's connection with
the church of St. Mauritius.
The occupant of the room was walking thoughtfully
to and fro, his hands crossed behind him. He had just
delivered an address before the missionary society, in
which he had reported the progress of gospel truth in the
hearts of the Patagonians and Kaffres. The blessed
converts were now so far civilized that they were quite
reconciled to wearing pantaloons, and he had acknowl-
edged the unwearied labours of the wives and daughters
of the various Christian congregations that had made
this possible for them, and that had supplied such ex-
cellent stockings for the heathen children in Greenland
and Spitzbergen.
31
362 WHY DJD HE NOT DIE?
*r '
Time had passed lightly over Pastor Siegfried. True,
he was no longer a young man, his fair, straight hair
was quite gray, but his figure and bearing were as stately
as ever, and in this light the lines of his countenance
looked very little more deeply graven. An Epicurean
habit of life and a phlegmatic temperament had probably
done their share towards the preservation of the man.
His composure had, to be sure, received some severe
shocks during the last year, but he had given no outward
sign of such disturbance, and its cause was quite put
aside at present that is, the Pastor had come to a deci-
sion concerning it.
Perhaps it might never come to the worst. But if
this Reichard were Richard Kurten, and chose to marry
his father's daughter, why, then, curse him ! let him, in
the devil's name ! He, Siegfried, could not hinder it,
it was impossible. He would not perform the mar-
riage ceremony ; he was resolved upon that : he would
be confined to his bed, or called from the city suddenly
upon business. And then Pastor Siegfried often speculated
upon the strange experiment that might be put to the
proof before his eyes. A speculative mind might have
based many strange inquiries thereupon. Would igno-
rance neutralize the sin of a transgression of the laws
of God and man ? What if brother and sister learned
their relationship after long years, what effect would it
have upon their feelings towards one another ?
But just now Siegfried was busy with no such con-
siderations, nor with the trousers and stockings of the
Kaffres and Greenlanders : he was thinking of a lobster
that he had ordered his housekeeper to prepare for him,
and which it vexed him not to find awaiting his return
home. The meeting had been less lengthy than usual,
and the Pastor was obliged to wait. Suddenly he re-
WHY HE DID NOT DTE, 363
membered that the maid-servant had told him there
was a note for him lying upon his table. There it lay
upon the top of his papers, and Siegfried recognized Herr
Gravensund's handwriting.
" What can he want ?" he said to himself. " ' Important
domestic affairs.' Hm I don't like such expressions.
'Arrangements to make.' Pecuniary arrangements, I
wonder ? Testamentary dispositions, perhaps ? Not un-
likely. Hm if I am to be present, doubtless he designs
something for me, for the church, that is, for the church,
of course. It can be nothing to do with Reichard ? I
think not, or it would have been expressed differently.
He would never have requested me to come to him if it
were not for my personal interest to do so. Well, I shall
go, of course, I must go. I am really quite curious."
And the Herr Pastor was slightly anxious in his mind,
too ; the flavour of the lobster was spoiled for him,
and the tea was not what it usually was. His visits at
Gravensund's had long ceased to be thoroughly agreeable,
for the ground there beneath his feet was unsteady,
and Therese had a malicious pleasure in making him
feel this. She took undue advantage of the supe-
riority of her position, and Siegfried fairly hated her.
Still, if Reichard married Anna, she would be punished
for her insolence. Siegfried consoled himself as he could
with that reflection.
At eleven the next morning Gravensund was impa-
tiently expecting Siegfried's arrival. There- had been an
abundance of time for a consultation with Reichard, and
everything was in readiness for the Pastor's visit.
It was half-past eleven when he made his appearance.
He approached Gravensund with the easy assurance of
a mari of the world, without, however, compromising in
the slightest degree his priestly dignity. For years this
364 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
demeanour had greatly impressed Gravensund ; but he
would have been a far better actor than he was, and
Siegfried far less keen an observer, if the latter had
not remarked a gathering storm, although he was appa-
rently perfectly unsuspicious.
" My dear Herr Gravensund," he said, with an ob-
servant glance, after the first greetings had been ex-
changed, " you spoke of arrangements to be made ? Do
I understand you ?"
"Yes," Gravensund replied, "there are certain changes
about to take place in my family, and I wish to make
some arrangements with regard to all my children."
" Well, it is prudent to order your household betimes.
What says the prophet ? A prudent "
But Gravensund interrupted him : he would not hear
such phrases from this man's lips. " Some unpleasant
circumstances have occurred," said he. " In the first
place, you know my sad experience with my son ?"
"A chastisement from the hand of the Lord, my
friend. Whom He loveth He chasteneth."
"And now my daughter " The Pastor gave a
little start.
" Your daughter ?" he asked, in a tone of profound
sympathy. " I trust she is no worse ?"
"My daughter has engaged herself to the artist
Reichard," replied Gravensund, looking fixedly at the
Pastor.
" Is it possible !" Siegfried exclaimed, with more dis-
may than he meant should be heard in his voice.
" You knew of it ?" asked Gravensund quickly.
"Well, I was not blind, and I was interested on
your account, my dear friend. I was not sure that the
match would be agreeable to you ; but it is not my busi-
ness to meddle in such matters."
WHY HE DID NOT DTE. 365
Gravensund was silent for awhile, struggling to retain
his composure.
"It is this marriage," he said at last, "that forces
me " He hesitated.
"You will not visit it too severely upon Fraulein
Anna?"
"Anna? What has Anna to do with it?"
" Why, if she has made a choice in opposition to her
father's wishes "
" I l>eg your pardon, Herr Pastor. It is not Anna, as
you suppose, but Netta, who is betrothed to Herr
Reichard."
A weight was lifted from Siegfried's soul. He took a
long breath, never dreaming what a confession he had
just made.
" God be praised !" he exclaimed.
" How so ? I do not understand you. Would it seem
derogatory to you for me to receive the artist Reichard
as a son-in-law ?"
"Oh not at all that is, not exactly. I thought you
did not approve "
" I approve entirely, and am much pleased with Netta's
choice. I have nothing to object to the young man per-
sonally ; but wi.th regard to his birth, he wishes that
to remain a secret."
" Aha I" cried the Pastor, as if surprised ; but his eyes
sparkled with joy. He was relieved of all cares. Reich-
ard would not go near the Kurtens.
" He tells me," Gravensund continued, " that he is the
foster-son of the letter-carrier Kurten."
"Indeed!" Siegfried said, now surprised in reality.
" He has told you that ?"
" I see you know all about the matter," replied Gra-
vensund.
31*
366 WHY DTD HE NOT DTE?
" How strangely quick and keen the man seems to be
to-day !" Siegfried thought. " The story must be very
irritating to him."
"Well I that is yes that is, I suspected it,"
he said aloud ; " but you know, my dear Gravensund,
distinguished men are not fond of alluding to their infe-
rior antecedents ; and I Well, I did not feel it my
duty "
" I should think you would have felt it your duty."
" My dear friend, I do not understand you."
" And, then, inferior antecedents. What do you call
inferior antecedents ?" asked Gravensund in a most unusual
tone.
" Well, not to mince matters, these Kurtens are very
ordinary people. The wife is a low person, with no
education, no refinement of feeling, in short, a common
scold "
The Pastor did not proceed, for through the open
door of the next room rushed the aforesaid " common
scold," who, in spite of her gayest Sunday apparel, did
not at present belie the appellation conferred upon her.
"Indeed! Common scold 1" she screamed, confronting
him with arms a-kimbo. " Common scold } T ourself! The
honest wife of an honest citizen!" And she shook her
fist at him, and hurled at him one vituperative epithet
after another.
Siegfried sprang up and retreated. The last trump
seemed sounding in his ears. Reichard had followed the
woman into the room, -and now stood mute, his arms
crossed, his stern glance riveted upon the Pastor. Sieg-
fried could not meet his gaze, his own sought the ground.
He knew that all all was now discovered. Frau Kur-
ten's frantic abuse made him fully aware of the fact.
" Calm yourself, Frau Kurten," said Gravensund, re-
WHY HE DID NOT DIE. 367
gaining some composure; "let us hear whether Pastor
Siegfried has anything to say in self-defence or self-
justification."
Siegfried tried to speak ; his lips moved, but in vain ;
no sound issued from them, he was as if paralyzed.
"The man's punishment will cleave to him while life
lasts," said Gravensund. " Let him go."
"No, no! let him refund the seven hundred marks
that he stole from me !" screamed Frau Kurten.
The Pastor started as if stung by an adder, and, re-
covering his speech, cried, " Woman, you lie !"
" Indeed ? I lie ? Where are they, then ?
" Stay, stay, mother ! that theft is the least of the
man's crimes," said Reichard, in this moment of agitation
unconsciously adopting his old relation to Frau Kurten.
" But take heed, priest !" he continued, turning towards
him. " There is a long reckoning between you and me."
"Against me," cried Gravensund, "your sin is moun-
tain high. What ! keep a father in ignorance of his son's
existence ! Yet if that were all, but how terrible might
have been the consequences ! I will never, never forgive
you !"
" Here is no question of forgiveness, father, but of con-
demnation and vindication," said Reichard, in a voice so
stern and cutting that it could hardly be recognized as
his own.
" And this," said Siegfried hoarsely, gradually recover-
ing himself sufficiently to wrap his pharisaic cloak about
him, "this is gratitude for the good I have so conscien-
tiously endeavoured to do."
" Good ? Conscientiously ?" repeated Gravensund.
"For having held aloof scorn and disgrace from your
ancient patrician name, for having saved your old mother
from the grief of owning a bastard for a grandchild."
368 Wlir DID HE NOT DTE?
" Do not dare to defame my mother !" Gravensund intei'-
rupted him. " She was a true, noble-hearted woman, even
if her prejudices were strong. Had she known that a
child of Marie Gunther lived, her hand would have
been the first to point out to me the only reparation that
a man of honour can make to the woman whom he loves.
She might not have received her daughter-in-law, but she
would not have had me play the part of a scoundrel."
" You were a boy then," said Siegfried, with a scorn-
ful glance of superior knowledge. " Your mother "
" Her name shall not pass your lips 1" cried Graven-
suud. " I will not bear it!"
" I am silent," said Siegfried, with a pompous obei-
sance. " Any self-justification is beneath me."
" Fiend in human shape !" cried Gravensund, pale with
anger, and fully comprehending that the cunning priest
was endeavouring to shift all the burden of his guilt upon
the dead.
Reichard laid his hand soothingly upon his father's
arm.
" We can readily dispense with your self-vindication,"
he said, turning to Siegfried, " which could only be a
fresh tissue of falsehoods. This is the curse of evil-
doers, or rather, to speak as you would have us, unfor-
tunate speculators "
" Herr I" Siegfried hoarsely interrupted, but Reichard
did not heed the ejaculation.
" Sin begets sin. Here is the letter," he continued,
drawing it from his breast pocket, " in which you an-
.nounce the death of the child and acknowledgt the
receipt of the money. After you had thus disposed of
the child and of the money, you were obliged to employ
other arts to get rid of me, since chance conducted me
to this very house."
WHY HE DID NOT DIE. 369
" Wrong, wrong again 1" the Pastor once more inter-
rupted. And again Reichard proceeded, without heeding
the interruption,
" You would have destroyed me, body and soul, for
you sent me to that house that was more loathsome to
me than a mad-house "
" Aha !" sneered Siegfried, " who do you think it was
who drove you from this house and confirmed me in my
belief that you were a thoroughly depraved and neglected
child ? Ask your charming mother-in-law ask your hand-
some wife, Herr Gravensund, who spun that intrigue,
ask her who took the coin from the cabinet and laid it in
the boy's cap. Mam'selle Jiiger knew all about it, she
hated the boy, and Madame Gravensund hates him
yet."
The dart struck home, and the Pastor drew the sword
of vengeance from its sheath.
" I have nothing to say to you, young man," he said,
turning to Reichard. " I own no judge save the Lord
alone. Your insolence to me deserves severe chastise-
ment; but I am a servant of the Lord, who commands
us to ' Bless them that curse you.' The old Adam within
me, I confess, prevents me at present from uttering this
blessing, but I will wrestle in prayer for the power to
do so."
" Your blessing would be a curse to me," said Reichard,
shuddering as if to free himself from some clinging horror,
and then turning to his father, whose gentle spirit had
been wounded to its very depths by what Siegfried had
said.
"And you, sir," said the Pastor, also turning to Gra-
vensund, " who have endeavoured to bring to shame my
gray locks, to defame the minister of the Lord, let me
counsel you not to trouble yourself about the mote in
370 WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
your neighbour's eye, but to consider the beam in your
own the bar that must be drawn across your scutcheon."
"Silence! Silence!" cried Gravensund, rising. "Not
another word. One word to cast a stain upon my son,
Marie Gunther's son, and yes, I will call my servants to
my aid in thrusting you from my doors."
* But Siegfried was determined not to sheathe the sword
he had drawn, he cast a look full of venomous hate
and revenge upon the poor victim of his malice and
went on :
" Call your servants, then, open the windows and
publish your disgrace abroad. You will hardly do that.
Aha I I was not speaking of your son, but of your fair
and haughty wife, of her who bears your name, and of
whose past you know so little. You have interesting
news to tell her, but she cannot be outdone in that
respect ; she can surprise you in her turn. Ask her
why she fled secretly from her father's house, and
mention to Madame Gravensund No. 100 in N. N. St.,
in Schwerin. Perhaps she can still blush, for that house,
you know " And he leaned over Gravensund and
whispered a few words in his ear, not so low, however,
but that he was overheard by the others.
"Liar! liar!" Gravensund almost shrieked, springing
up and lifting his arm to fell his tormentor to the ground,
but Reichard arrested it. He was sufficiently collected
to know that the revelations of the last moment must be
kept secret at all hazards, and besides he did not
believe that in what he had just said the Pastor was a
liar.
Supporting his father, whose strength seemed suddenly
to forsake him, with one arm, he with the other motioned
the Pastor to the door with a gesture of disdain.
" Your theatric airs do not impose upon me, insolent
HE DID NOT DIE. 371
upstart. But my task here is finished, I have nothing
more to say. Truth maintains the victory !"
And with erect head and arrogant, measured step he
left the room and the house.
******
Gravensund was attacked by a violent fever*tbe result
of the terrible agitation through which he had passed,.
For several days his life was despaired of, and he would
have revealed everything in his delirium, if Reichard
had not seen to it that no stranger was admitted to his
bedside. He and Netta took turns in nursing him.
Therese could not share their care, for her presence ex-
cited the patient to the wildest frenzy. Weeks passed
before he was restored to health, and then the engagement
was announced.
Some time previous to the announcement, however,
Madame Therese Gravensund departed upon a pleasure
tour. At first her absence caused various inquiries on
the part of friends of the family, who were informed that
the state of her health required a protracted residence in
the south of Germany, and at last people divined that
something had occurred in the family that would not bear
investigation, and she was never alluded to. Of course,
the Pastor's lips were closed, and Frau Kurten knew how
to look after her own interests far too well to open hers
upon the subject.
About a year after the above events, Pastor Siegfried
was found dead of apoplexy in his study-chair. He had
never been quite himself since he had been so tortured
with the fear of discovery ; but he departed this life with-
out a struggle or a pang, like one of the most righteous
of men. All the church-bells of the city tolled their
tribute to his many virtues upon the day of his funeral.
372 'WHY DID HE NOT DIE?
After the custom of the place, twelve esquires, in antique
black robes and huge periwigs, preceded the hearse that
was open on all sides, and only covered by a richly-carved
canopy. Beside it, on either side, there walked six other
black-robed attendants, bearing the pall in one hand, and
in the other a kind of staff. The whole moved along
like a silhouette upon the background of freshly-fallen
snow.. The wreaths and garlands of green, and of lovely
flowers with which, in spite of the wintry season, the
coffin was covered, were in strange contrast with the
black mourning robes. The mound of the grave was
also heaped with flowers, but a less perishable monu-
ment, a pillar of white marble, now marks the spot where
repose the remains of the servant of the Lord, the
preacher of the gospel.
******
Several years have flown by. Netta and Reichard
have long been married ; and Gravensund lives happily
among his children. Anna is still a delicate flower, but
there is no reason to fear that, sustained and cherished
by the loving care of those around her, she may not live
to a good old age.
Willy has utterly vanished ; no one knows whether he
is still alive.
The Kurtens are both in excellent health, and it is
Frau Kur ten's greatest pride that twice every week an
elegant equipage drives up before her door, and waits
there while Kurten, now grown very stiff, gets into
it, followed by his wife, who finds that the air is very
good for her when she drives, but who always did de-
spise walking.
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
Los Angeles
This book is DUE on the last date stamped below.
SEP 2 1959
Form L9-32m-8,'57(.C8680s4)444
"/
-
UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
A 001 287 738 7
V ' V
'.'. '
-
;? V ; ..vJV---,
- ,- * .\.
. A- 1