The Benefactress

 BY THE AUTHOR OF "ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN"

New YorkTHE MACMILLAN COMPANYLONDON: MACMILLAN & CO. , Ltd. 1901

_All rights reserved_

Copyright, 1901, By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 

Norwood PressJ. S. Gushing & Co. --Berwick & SmithNorwood Mass. U. S. A. 

 Man bedarf der Leitung Und der männlichen Begleitung. 

 WILHELM BUSCH. 

THE BENEFACTRESS

CHAPTER I

When Anna Estcourt was twenty-five, and had begun to wonder whether thepleasure extractable from life at all counterbalanced the bother of it, a wonderful thing happened. 

She was an exceedingly pretty girl, who ought to have been enjoyingherself. She had a soft, irregular face, charming eyes, dimples, apleasant laugh, and limbs that were long and slender. Certainly sheought to have been enjoying herself. Instead, she wasted her time inthat foolish pondering over the puzzles of existence, over thoseunanswerable whys and wherefores, which is as a rule restricted, amongwomen, to the elderly and plain. Many and various are the motives thatimpel a woman so to ponder; in Anna's case the motive was nothing moreexalted than the perpetual presence of a sister-in-law. Thesister-in-law was rich--in itself a pleasing circumstance; but thesister-in-law was also frank, and her husband and Anna were entirelydependent on her, and her richness and her frankness combined urged herto make fatiguingly frequent allusions to the Estcourt poverty. Exceptfor their bad taste her husband did not mind these allusions much, forhe considered that he had given her a full equivalent for her money inbestowing his name on a person who had practically none: he was SirPeter Estcourt of the Devonshire Estcourts, and she was a Dobbs ofBirmingham. Besides, he was a philosopher, and philosophers never mindanything. But Anna was in a less agreeable situation. She was not aphilosopher, she was thin-skinned, she had bestowed nothing and wastaking everything, and she was of an independent nature; and anindependent nature, where there is no money, is a great nuisance to itspossessor. 

When she was younger and more high-flown she sometimes talked ofsweeping crossings; but her sister-in-law Susie would not hear ofcrossings, and dressed her beautifully, and took her out, and made herdance and dine and do as other girls did, being of opinion that a richhusband of good position was more satisfactory than crossings, and farmore likely to make some return for all the expenses she had had. 

At eighteen Anna was so pretty that the perfect husband seemed to be amere question of days. What could the most desirable of men, thoughtSusie, considering her, want more than so bewitching a young creature?But he did not come, somehow, that man of Susie's dreams; and after ayear or two, when Anna began to understand what all this dressing anddancing really meant, and after she had had offers from people she didnot like, and had herself fallen in love with a youth of no means whowas prudent enough to marry somebody else with money, she shrank backand grew colder, and objected more and more decidedly to Susie'sstrenuous private matrimonial urgings, and sometimes made remarks of acynical nature to her admirers, who took fright at such symptoms ofadvancing age, and fell off considerably in numbers. 

It was at this period, when she was barely twenty-two, that she spoke ofcrossings. Susie had seriously reproved her for not meeting the advancesof an old and rich and single person with more enthusiasm, and had atthe same time alluded to the number of pounds she had spent on her everyyear for the last three years, and the necessity for putting an end, bymarrying, to all this outlay; and instead of being sensible, and talkingthings over quietly, Anna had poured out a flood of foolish sentimentsabout the misery of knowing that she was expected to be nice to everyman with money, the intolerableness of the life she was leading, and thesuperior attractions of crossing-sweeping as a means of earning alivelihood. 

"Why, you haven't enough money for the broom, " said Susie impatiently. "You can't sweep without a broom, you know. I wish you were a littleless silly, Anna, and a little more grateful. Most girls would jump atthe splendid opportunity you've got now of marrying, and taking up aposition of your own. You talk a great deal of stuff about beingindependent, and when you get the chance, and I do all I can to helpyou, you fly into a passion and want to sweep a crossing. Really, " addedSusie, twitching her shoulder, "you might remember that it isn't allroses for me either, trying to get some one else's daughter married. "

"Of course it isn't all roses, " said Anna, leaning against themantelpiece and looking down at her with perplexed eyebrows. "I am verysorry for you. I wish you weren't so anxious to get rid of me. I wish Icould do something to help you. But you know, Susie, you haven't taughtme a trade. I can't set up on my own account unless you'll give me alast present of a broom, and let me try my luck at the nearest crossing. The one at the end of the street is badly kept. What do you think if Istarted there?" What answer could anyone make to such folly?

By the time she was twenty-four, nearly all the girls who had come outwhen she did were married, and she felt as though she were a ghosthaunting the ball-rooms of a younger generation. Disliking this feeling, she stiffened, and became more and more unapproachable; and it was atthis period that she invented excuses for missing most of the functionsto which she was invited, and began to affect a simplicity of dress andhair arrangement that was severe. Susie's exasperation was now at itsheight. "I don't know why you should be bent on making the worst ofyourself, " she said angrily, when Anna absolutely refused to alter herhair. 

"I'm tired of being frivolous, " said Anna. "Have you an idea how longthose waves took to do? And you know how Hilton talks. It all getswhisked up now in two minutes, and I'm spared her conversation. "

"But you are quite plain, " cried Susie. "You are not like the same girl. The only thing your best friend could say about you now is that you lookclean. "

"Well, I like to look clean, " said Anna, and continued to go about theworld with hair tucked neatly behind her ears; her immediate rewardbeing an offer from a clergyman within the next fortnight. 

Peter Estcourt was even more surprised than his wife that Anna had notmade a good match years before. Of course she had no money, but she wasa pretty girl of good family, and it ought to be easy enough for her tofind a husband. He wished heartily that she might soon be happilymarried; for he loved her, and knew that she and Susie could never, withtheir best endeavours, be great friends. Besides, every woman ought tohave a home of her own, and a husband and children. Whenever he thoughtof Anna, he thought exactly this; and when he had reached theproposition at the end he felt that he could do no more, and began tothink of something else. 

His marriage with Susie, a person of whom no one had ever heard, hadbrought out and developed stores of unsuspected philosophy in him. Before that he was quite poor, and very merry; but he loved Estcourt, and could not bear to see it falling into ruin, and he loved his smallsister, who was then only ten, and wished to give her a decenteducation, and what is a man to do? There happened to be no richAmerican girls about at that time, so he married Miss Dobbs ofBirmingham, and became a philosopher. 

It was hard on Susie that he should become a philosopher at her expense. She did not like philosophers. She did not understand their silent ways, and their evenness of temper. After she had done all that Peter wantedin regard to the place in Devonshire, and had provided Anna with everyluxury in the shape of governesses, and presented her husband with anheir to the retrieved family fortunes, she thought that she had a rightto some enjoyment too, to some gratification from her position, and wassurprised to find how little was forthcoming. Really no one could domore than she had done, and yet nothing was done for her. Peter fished, and read, and was with difficulty removable from Estcourt. Anna was, ofcourse, too young to be grateful, but there she was, taking everythingas a matter of course, her very unconsciousness an irritation. Susiewanted to get on in the world, and nobody helped her. She wanted to burythe Dobbs part of herself, and develop the Estcourt part; but the Dobbspart was natural, and the Estcourt superficial, and the Dobbses were oneand all singularly unattractive--a race of eager, restless, wiry littlemen and women, anxious to get as much as they could, and keep it as longas they could, a family succeeding in gathering a good deal of moneytogether in one place, and failing entirely in the art of makingfriends. Susie was the best of them, and had been the pretty one athome; yet she was not in the least a success in London. She put it downto Peter's indifference, to his slowness in introducing her to hisfriends. It was no more Peter's fault than it was her own. It was nother fault that she was not pretty--there never had been a beautifulDobbs--and it was not her fault that she was so unfortunately frank, andnever could and never did conceal her feverish eagerness to makedesirable acquaintances, and to get into desirable sets. Until Anna cameout she was invited only to the big functions to which the whole worldwent; and the hours she passed at them were not among the most blissfulof her life. The people who were at first inclined to be kind to her forPeter's sake, dropped off when they found how her eagerness to attractthe attention of some one mightier made her unable to fix her thoughtson the friendly remarks that they were taking pains to make. In societyshe was absent-minded, fidgety, obviously on the look-out for a chanceof drawing the biggest fish into her little net; but, wealthy as shewas, she was not wealthy enough in an age of millionnaires, and not onceduring the whole of her career was a big fish simple enough to becaught. 

After a time her natural shrewdness and common sense made her perceivethat her one claim to the scanty attentions she did receive was hermoney. Her money had bought her Peter, and a pleasant future for herchildren; it had converted a Dobbs into an Estcourt; it had given hereverything she had that was worth anything at all. Once she hadthoroughly realised this, she began to attach a tremendous importance tothe mere possession of money, and grew very stingy, making difficultiesabout spending that grieved Peter greatly; not because he ever wantedher money now that Estcourt had been restored to its old splendour andset going again for their boy, but because meanness about money in awoman was something he could not comprehend--something repulsive, unfeminine, contrary to her nature as he had always understood it. Heleft off making the least suggestion about Anna's education or thehousehold arrangements; everything that was done was done of Susie's ownaccord; and he spent more and more time in Devonshire, and grew more andmore philosophical, and when he did talk to his wife, restricted hisconversation to the language of abstract wisdom. 

Now this was very hard on Susie, who had no appreciation of abstractwisdom, and who lived as lonely a life as it is possible to imagine. Peter kept out of her way. Anna was subject to prolonged fits of chillysilence. Susie used, at such times, to think regretfully of the cheerfulDobbs days, of their frank and congenial vulgarity. 

When Anna was eighteen, Susie's prospects brightened for a time. Doorsthat had been shut ever since she married, opened before her on herappearing with such a pretty _débutante_ under her wing, and she couldenjoy the reflected glory of Anna's little triumphs. And then, withoutany apparent reason, Anna had altered so strangely, and had disappointedevery one's expectations; never encouraging the right man, never readyto do as she was told, exasperatingly careless on all matters of vitalimportance, and ending by showing symptoms of freezing into something ofthe same philosophical state as Peter. Their mother had been German----alady-in-waiting to one of the German princesses; and their father hadmet her and married her while he was secretary at the English Embassy inSt. Petersburg. And Susie, who had heard of German philosophy and Germanstolidity, and despised them both with all her heart, concluded that theGerman strain was accountable for everything about Peter and Anna thatwas beyond her comprehension; and sometimes, when Peter was more thanusually wise and unapproachable, would call him Herr Schopenhauer--whichhad an immediate effect of producing a silence that lasted for weeks;for not only did he like her least when she was playful, but he had, asa matter of fact, read a great deal of Schopenhauer, and was uneasilyconscious that it had not been good for him. 

While Peter fished, and meditated on the vanity of human wishes atEstcourt, Anna, with rare exceptions, was wherever Susie was, and Susiewas wherever it was fashionable to be. For a week or two in the summer, for a day or two at Easter, they went down to Devonshire; and Anna mightwander about the old house and grounds as she chose, and feel how muchbetter she had loved it in its tumble-down state, the state she hadknown as a child, when her mother lived there and was happy. Everythingwas aggressively spruce now, indoors and out. Susie's money and Susie'staste had rubbed off all the mellowness and all the romance. Anna wasglad to leave it again, and be taken to Marienbad, or any place wherethere was royalty, for Susie loved royalty. But what a life it was, going round year after year with Susie! London, Devonshire, Marienbad, Scotland, London again, following with patient feet wherever theunconscious royalties led, meeting the same people, listening to thesame music, talking the same talk, eating the same dinners--would no oneever invent anything new to eat? The inexpressible boredom of riding upand down the Row every morning, the unutterable hours shopping andtrying on clothes, the weariness of all the new pictures, and all theconcerts, and all the operas, which seemed to grow less pleasing everyyear, as her eye and ear grew more critical. She knew at last every noteof the stock operas and concerts, and every note seemed to have got onto her nerves. 

And then the people they knew--the everlasting sameness of them, contentto go the same dull round for ever. Driving in the Park with Susie, neither of them speaking a word, she used to watch the faces in theother carriages, nearly all faces of acquaintances, to see whether anyof them looked cheerful; and it was the rarest thing to come across anyexpression but one of blankest boredom. Bored and cross, hardly everspeaking to the person with them, their friends drove up and down everyafternoon, and she and Susie did the same, as silent and as bored as anyof them. A few unusually beautiful, or unusually witty, or unusuallyyoung persons appeared to find life pleasant and looked happy, but theyavoided Susie. Her set was made up of the dull and plain; and all theamusing people, and all the interesting people, turned their backs withone accord on her and it. 

These were the circumstances that drove Anna to reflect on the problemsof life every time she was beyond the sound of Susie's voice. 

She passionately resented her position of dependence on Susie, and shepassionately resented the fact that the only way to get out of it was tomarry. Every time she had an offer, she first of all refused it with anenergy that astonished the unhappy suitor, and then spent days andnights of agony because she had refused it, and because Susie wanted herto accept it, and because of an immense pity for Susie that had takenpossession of her heart. How could Peter live so placidly at Susie'sexpense, and treat her with such a complete want of tenderness? Anna'slove for her brother diminished considerably directly she began tounderstand Susie's life. It was such a pitiful little life of cringing, and pushing, and heroically smiling in the face of ill-treatment. No onecared for her in the very least. She had hundreds of acquaintances, whowould eat her dinners and go away and poke fun at her, but not a singlefriend. Her husband lived on her and hardly spoke to her. Her boy atEton, an amazing prig, looked down on her. Her little daughter neverdreamed of obeying her. Anna herself was prevented by some stubbornspirit of fastidiousness, evidently not possessed by any of hercontemporaries, from doing the only thing Susie had ever really wantedher to do--marrying, and getting herself out of the way. What if Susiewere a vulgar little woman of no education and no family? That did notmake it any the more glorious for the Estcourts to take all they couldand ignore her existence. It was, after all, Susie who paid the bills. Anna pitied her from the bottom of her heart; such a forlorn littlewoman, taken out of her proper sphere, and left to shiver all alone, without a shred of love to cover and comfort her. 

It was when she was away from Susie that she felt this. When she waswith her, she found herself as cold and quiet and contradictory asPeter. She used, whenever she got the chance, to go to afternoon serviceat St. Paul's. It was the only place and time in which all the bad partof her was soothed into quiet, and the good allowed to prevail in peace. The privacy of the great place, where she never met anyone she knew, thebeauty of the music, the stateliness of the service offered every day inequal perfection to any poor wretch choosing to turn his back for anhour on the perplexities of life, all helped to hush her grievances tosleep and fill her heart with tenderness for those who were not happy, and for those who did not know they were unhappy, and for those whowasted their one precious life in being wretched when they might havebeen happy. How little it would need, she thought (for she was young andimaginative), to turn most people's worries and sadness into joy. Such alittle difference in Susie's ways and ideas would make them all sohappy; such a little change in Peter's habits would make his wife's liferadiant. But they all lived blindly on, each day a day of emptiness, each of those precious days, so crowded with opportunities, andpossibilities, and unheeded blessings, and presently life would bebehind them, and their chances gone for ever. 

"The world is a dreadful place, full of unhappy people, " she thought, looking out on to the world with unhappy eyes. "Each one by himself, with no one to comfort him. Each one with more than he can bear, and noone to help him. Oh, if I could, I would help and comfort everyone thatis sad, or sick at heart, or sorry--oh, if I could!"

And she dreamed of all that she would do if she were Susie--rich, andfree from any sort of interference--to help others, less fortunate, tobe happy too. But, since she was the very reverse of rich and free, sheshook off these dreams, and made numbers of good resolutionsinstead--resolutions bearing chiefly on her future behaviour towardsSusie. And she would come out of the church filled with the sternestresolves to be ever afterwards kind and loving to her; and the veryfirst words Susie uttered would either irritate her into speeches thatmade her sorry, or freeze her back into her ordinary state of coldaloofness. 

If Susie had had an idea that Anna was pitying her, and making goodresolutions of which she was the object at afternoon services, and thatin her eyes she had come to be merely a cross which must with heroism beborne, she probably would have been indignant. Pitying people and beingpitied oneself are two very different things. The first is soothing andsweet, the second is annoying, or even maddening, according to thetemperament of the patient. Susie, however, never suspected that anyonecould be sorry for her; and when, after a party, before they went tobed, Anna would put her arms round her and give her a disproportionatelytender kiss, she would show her surprise openly. "Why, what's thematter?" she would ask. "Another mood, Anna?" For she could not know howmuch Anna felt the snubs she had seen her receive. How should she? Shewas so used to them that she hardly noticed them herself. 

It was when Anna was twenty-five, and much vexed in body by efforts tobe and to do as Susie wished, and in soul by those unanswerablequestions as to the why and wherefore of the aimless, useless existenceshe was leading, that the wonderful thing happened that changed herwhole life. 

CHAPTER II

There was a German relation of Anna's, her mother's brother, known toSusie as Uncle Joachim. He had been twice to England; once during hissister's life, when Anna was little, and Peter was unmarried, and theywere all poor and happy together at Estcourt; and once after Susie'sintroduction into the family, just at that period when Anna wasbeginning to stiffen and put her hair behind her ears. 

Susie knew all about him, having inquired with her usual frankness onfirst hearing of his existence whether he would be likely to leave Annaanything on his death; and upon being informed that he had a family ofsons, and large estates and little money, looked upon it as a greathardship to be obliged to have him in her London house. She objected toall Germans, and thought this particular one a dreadful old man, andnever wearied of making humorous comments on his clothes and the oddnessof his manners at meals. She was vexed that he should be with them inHill Street, and refused to give dinners while he was there. She alsoasked him several times if he would not enjoy a stay at Estcourt, andsaid that the country was now at its best, and the primroses were infull beauty. 

"I want not primroses, " said Uncle Joachim, who seldom spoke at length;"I live in the country. I will now see London. "

So he went about diligently to all the museums and picture-galleries, sometimes alone and sometimes with Anna, who neglected her social dutiesmore than ever in order to be with him, for she loved him. 

They talked together chiefly in German, Uncle Joachim carefullycorrecting her mistakes; and while they went frugally in omnibuses tothe different sights, and ate buns in confectioners' shops atlunch-time, and walked long distances where no omnibuses were to befound--for besides having a great fear of hansoms he was verythrifty--he drew her out, saying little himself, and in a very shorttime knew almost as much about her life and her perplexities as she did. 

She was very happy during his visit, and told herself contentedly thatblood, after all, was thicker than water. She did not stop to considerwhat she meant exactly by this, but she had a vague notion that Susiewas the water. She felt that Uncle Joachim understood her better thananyone had yet done; and was it not natural that her dear mother'sbrother should? And it was only after she had taken him to service atSt. Paul's that she began to perceive that there might perhaps be pointson which their tastes differed. Uncle Joachim had remained seated whileother people knelt or stood; but that did not matter in that liberalplace, where nobody notices the degree of his neighbour's devoutness. And he had slept during the anthem, one of those unaccompanied anthemsthat are sung there with what seem of a certainty to be the voices ofangels. And on coming out, when a fugue was rolling in gloriousconfusion down the echoing aisles, and Anna, who preferred her fuguesconfused, felt that her spirit was being caught up to heaven, he hadlooked at her rapt face and wet eyelashes, and patted her hand verykindly, and said encouragingly, "In my youth I too cultivated Bach. NowI cultivate pigs. Pigs are better. "

Anna's mother had been his only sister, and he had come over, not, as hetold Susie, to see London, but to see Susie herself, and to find out howit was that Anna had reached an age that in Germany is the age of oldmaids without marrying. By the time he had spent two evenings in HillStreet he had formed his opinion of his nephew and his nephew's wife, and they remained fixed until his death. "The good Peter, " he saidsuddenly one day to Anna when they were wandering together in the mazeat Hampton Court--for he faithfully went the rounds of sightseeingprescribed by Baedeker, and Anna followed him wherever he went--"thegood Peter is but a _Quatschkopf_. "

"A _Quatschkopf_?" echoed Anna, whose acquaintance with hermother-tongue did not extend to the byways of opprobrium. "What in theworld is a _Quatschkopf_?"

"_Quatschkopf_ is a _Duselfritz_, " explained Uncle Joachim, "and also itis the good Peter. "

"I believe you are calling him ugly names, " said Anna, slipping her armthrough his; by this time, if not kindred spirits, they were the best offriends. 

Uncle Joachim did not immediately reply. They had come to the open spacein the middle of the maze, and he sat down on the seat to recover hisbreath, and to wipe his forehead; for though the wind was cold the sunwas fierce. "_Gott, was man Alles durchmacht auf Reisen!_" he sighed. Then he put his handkerchief back into his pocket, looked up at Anna, who was standing in front of him leaning on her sunshade, and said, "A_Quatschkopf_ is a foolish fellow who marries a woman like that. "

"Oh, poor Susie!" cried Anna, at once ready to defend her, and full ofthe kindly feelings absence invariably produced. "Peter did a verysensible thing. But I don't think Susie did, marrying Peter. "

"He is a _Quatschkopf_, " said Uncle Joachim, not to be shaken in hisopinions, "and the _geborene_ Dobbs is a vulgar woman who is not richenough. "

"Not rich enough? Why, we are all suffocated by her money. We never hearof anything else. It would be dreadful if she had still more. "

"Not rich enough, " persisted Uncle Joachim, pursing up his lips into anexpression of great disapproval, and shaking his head. "Such a womanshould be a millionnaire. Not of marks, but of pounds sterling. Short ofthat, a man of birth does not impose her as a mother on his children. Peter has done it. He is a _Quatschkopf_. "

"It is a great mercy that she isn't a millionnaire, " said Anna, appalledby the mere thought. "Things would be just the same, except that therewould be all that money more to hear about. I hate the very name ofmoney. "

"Nonsense. Money is very good. "

"But not somebody else's. "

"That is true, " said Uncle Joachim approvingly. "One's own is the onlymoney that is truly pleasant. " Then he added suddenly, "Tell me, howcomes it that you are not married?"

Anna frowned. "Now you are growing like Susie, " she said. 

"_Ach_--she asks you that often?"

"Yes--no, not quite like that. She says she knows why I am not married. "

"And what knows she?"

"She says that I frighten everybody away, " said Anna, digging the pointof her sunshade into the ground. Then she looked at Uncle Joachim, andlaughed. 

"What?" he said incredulously. This pretty creature standing before him, so soft and young--for that she was twenty-four was hardlycredible--could not by any possibility be anything but lovable. 

"She says that I am disagreeable to people--that I look cross--that Idon't encourage them enough. Now isn't it simply terrible to be expectedto encourage any wretched man who has money? I don't want anybody tomarry me. I don't want to buy my independence that way. Besides, itisn't really independence. "

"For a woman it is the one life, " said Uncle Joachim with greatdecision. "Talk not to me of independence. Such words are not for thelips of girls. It is a woman's pride to lean on a good husband. It isher happiness to be shielded and protected by him. Outside the narrowcircle of her home, for her happiness is not. The woman who nevermarries has missed all things. "

"I don't believe it, " said Anna. 

"It is nevertheless true. "

"Look at Susie--is she so happy?"

"I said a _good_ husband; not a _Duselfritz_. "

"And as for narrow circles, why, how happy, how gloriously happy, Icould be outside them, if only I were independent!"

"Independent--independent, " repeated Uncle Joachim testily, "always thissame foolish word. What hast thou in thy head, child, thy pretty woman'shead, made, if ever head was, to lean on a good man's shoulder?"

"Oh--good men's shoulders, " said Anna, shrugging her own, "I don't wantto lean on anybody's shoulder. I want to hold my head up straight, allby itself. Do you then admire limp women, dear uncle, whose heads rollabout all loose till a good man comes along and props them up?"

"These are English ideas. I like them not, " said Uncle Joachim, lookingstony. 

Anna sat down on the seat by his side, and laid her cheek for a momentagainst his sleeve. "This is the only good man's shoulder it will everlean on, " she said. "If I were a preacher, do you know what I wouldpreach?"

"Thou art not, and never wilt be, a preacher. "

"But if I were? Do you know what I would preach? Early and late? Inseason and out of it?"

"Much nonsense, I doubt not. "

"I would preach independence. Only that. Always that. They would besermons for women only; and they would be warnings against props. "

She sat up and looked at him out of the corners of her eyes, but hecontinued to stare stonily into space. 

"I would thump the cushions, and cry out, 'Be independent, independent, independent! Don't talk so much, and do more. Go your own way, and letyour neighbour go his. Don't meddle with other people when you have allyour own work cut out for you being good yourself. Shake off all theprops----'"

"Anna, thou art talking folly. "

"'--shake them off, the props tradition and authority offer you, and goalone--crawl, stumble, stagger, but go alone. You won't learn to walkwithout tumbles, and knocks, and bruises, but you'll never learn to walkat all so long as there are props. ' Oh, " she said fervently, casting upher eyes, "there is nothing, nothing like getting rid of one's props!"

"I never yet, " observed Uncle Joachim, in his turn casting up his eyes, "saw a girl who so greatly needs the guidance of a good man. Hast thounever loved, then?" he added, turning on her suddenly. 

"Yes, " replied Anna promptly. If Uncle Joachim chose to ask such directquestions she would give him straight answers. 

"But----?"

"He went away and married somebody else. I had no money, and she had agreat deal. So you see he was a very sensible young man. " And shelaughed, for she had long ago ceased to be anything but amused by theremembrance of her one excursion into the rocky regions of love. 

"That, " said Uncle Joachim, "was not true love. "

"Oh, but it was. "

"Nay. One does not laugh at love. "

"It was all I had, anyhow. There isn't any more left. It was very badwhile it lasted, and it took at least two years to get over it. Whatthings I did to please that young man and appear lovely in his eyes! Thehours it took to dress, and get my hair done just right. I enduredtortures if I didn't look as beautiful as I thought I could look, andwas always giving my poor maid notice. And plots--the way I plotted toget taken to the places where he would be! I never was so artful beforeor since. Poor Susie was quite helpless. It is a mercy it all ended asit did. "

"That, " repeated Uncle Joachim, "was not true love. "

"Yes, it was. "

"No, my child. "

"Yes, my uncle. I laugh now, but it was very dreadful at the time. "

"Thou art but a goose, " he said, shrugging his shoulders; butimmediately patted her hand lest her feelings should have been hurt. And, declining further argument, he demanded to be taken to the GreatVine. 

It was in this fashion, Anna talking and Uncle Joachim making briefcomments, that he came to know her as thoroughly as though he had livedwith her all his life. 

Soon after the excursion to Hampton Court a letter came that hurried hisdeparture, to Susie's ill-concealed relief. 

"My swines are ill, " he informed her, greatly agitated, his fragileEnglish going altogether to pieces in his perturbation; "my inspectorwrites they perpetually die. God keep thee, Anna, " and he embraced hervery tenderly, and bending hastily over Susie's hand muttered someconventionalities, and then disappeared into his four-wheeler and out oftheir lives. 

They never saw him again. 

"My swines are ill, " mimicked Susie, when Anna, feeling that she hadlost her one friend, came slowly back into the room, "my swinesperpetually die--"

Anna was obliged to go and pray very hard at St. Paul's before she couldforgive her. 

CHAPTER III

The old man died at Christmas, and in the following March, when Anna wasgoing about more sad and listless than ever, the news came that, thoughhis inherited estates had gone to his sons, he had bought a little placesome years before with the intention of retiring to it in his extremeold age, and this little place he had left to his dear and only nieceAnna. 

She was alone when the letters bringing the news arrived, sitting in thedrawing-room with a book in her hands at which she did not look, feelingutterly downcast, indifferent, too hopeless to want anything or mindanything, accepting her destiny of years of days like this, with herselfgoing through them lonely, useless, and always older, and tellingherself that she did not after all care. "What does it matter, so longas I have a comfortable bed, and fires when I am cold, and meals when Iam hungry?" she thought. "Not to have those is the only real misery. Allthe rest is purest fancy. What right have I to be happier than otherpeople? If they are contented by such things, I can be contented too. And what does a useless being like me deserve, I should like to know? Itwas detestably ungrateful of me to have been unhappy all this time. "

She got up aimlessly, and looked out of the window into the sunnystreet, where the dust was racing by on the gusty March wind, and thewomen selling daffodils at the corner were more battered and blown aboutand red-eyed than ever. She had often, in those moments when her wholebody tingled with a wild longing to be up and doing and justifying herexistence before it was too late, envied these poor women, because theyworked. She wondered vaguely now at her folly. "It is much better to becomfortable, " she thought, going back to the fire as aimlessly as shehad gone to the window, "and it is sheer idiocy quarrelling with a lifethat other people would think quite tolerable. "

Then the door opened, and the letters were brought in--the wonderfulletters that struck the whole world into radiance--lying together withbills and ordinary notes on a salver, carried by an indifferent servant, handed to her as though they were things of naught--the wonderfulletters that changed her life. 

At first she did not understand what it was that they meant, and poredover the cramped German writing, reading the long sentences over andover again, till something suddenly seemed to clutch at her heart. Wasthis possible? Was this actual truth? Was Uncle Joachim, who had so muchobjected to her longing for independence, giving it to her with bothhands, and every blessing along with it? She read them through again, very carefully, holding them with shaking hands. Yes, it was true. Shebegan to cry, sobbing over them for very love and tenderness, her wholebeing melted into gratitude and humbleness, awestruck by a sense of howlittle she had deserved it, dazzled by the thousand lovely colours life, in the twinkling of an eye, had taken on. 

There were two letters--one from Uncle Joachim's lawyer, and one fromUncle Joachim himself, written soon after his return from England, withdirections on the envelope that it was to be sent to Anna after hisdeath. 

Uncle Joachim was not a man to express sentiment otherwise than bypatting those he loved affectionately on the back, and the letter overwhich Anna hung with such tender gratitude, and such an extravagance ofhumility, was a mere bald statement of facts. Since Anna, with aperversity that he entirely disapproved, refused to marry, and appearedto be possessed of the obstinacy that had always been a peculiarity ofher German forefathers, and which was well enough in a man, butundesirable in a woman, whose calling it was to be gentle and yielding(_sanft und nachgiebig_), and convinced from what he had seenduring his visit to London that she could never by any possibility behappy with her brother and sister-in-law, and moreover considering thatit was beneath the dignity of his sister's daughter, a young lady ofgood family, for ever to roll herself in the feathers with which themiddle-class goose-born Dobbs had furnished Peter's otherwise defectivenest, he had decided to make her independent altogether of them, numerous though his own sons were, and angry as they no doubt would be, by bestowing on her absolutely after his death the only property hecould leave to whomsoever he chose, a small estate near Stralsund, wherehe hoped to pass his last years. It was in a flourishing condition, easyto manage, bringing in a yearly average of forty thousand marks, andwith an experienced inspector whom he earnestly recommended her to keep. He trusted his dear Anna would go and live there, and keep it up to itspresent state of excellence, and would finally marry a good Germangentleman, of whom there were many, and return in this way altogether tothe country of her forefathers. The estate was not so far from Stralsundas to make it impossible for her to drive there when she wished toindulge any feminine desire she might have to trim herself (_sichputzen_), and he recommended her to begin a new life, settling therewith some grave and sober female advanced in years as companion andprotectress, until such time as she should, by marriage, pass into thecare of that natural protector, her husband. 

Then followed a short exposition of his views on women, especially thosewomen who go to parties all their lives and talk _Klatsch_; a spiritedcomparing of such women with those whose interests keep them busy intheir own homes; and a final exhortation to Anna to seize thisopportunity of choosing the better life, which was always, he said, alife of simplicity, frugality, and hard work. 

Anna wept and laughed together over this letter--the tenderest laughterand the happiest tears. It seemed by turns the wildest improbabilitythat she should be well off, and the most natural thing in the world. Susie was out. Never had her absence been terrible before. Anna couldhardly bear the waiting. She walked up and down the room, for sittingstill was impossible, holding the precious letters tight in her littlecold hands, her cheeks burning, her eyes sparkling, in an agony ofimpatience and anxiety lest something should have happened to delaySusie at this supreme moment. At the window end of the room she stoppedeach time she reached it and looked eagerly up and down the street, theflower-women and the blessedness of selling daffodils having within anhour become profoundly indifferent to her. At the other end of the room, where a bureau stood, she came to a standstill too, and snatching up apen began a letter to Peter in Devonshire; but, hearing wheels, threw itdown and flew to the window again. It was not Susie's carriage, and shewent back to the letter and wrote another line; then again to thewindow; then again to the letter; and it was the letter's turn as Susie, fagged from a round of calls, came in. 

Susie's afternoon had not been a success. She had made advances to awoman of enviably high position with the intrepidity that characterisedall her social movements, and she had been snubbed for her pains withmore than usual rudeness. She had had, besides, several minorannoyances. And to come in worn out, and have your sister-in-law, whowould hardly speak to you at luncheon, fall on your neck and beginviolently to kiss you, is really a little hard on a woman who is alreadycross. 

"Now what in the name of fortune is the matter now?" gasped Susie, breathlessly disengaging herself. 

"Oh, Susie! oh, Susie!" cried Anna incoherently, "what ages you havebeen away--and the letters came directly you had gone--and I've beenwatching for you ever since, and was so dreadfully afraid something hadhappened----"

"But what are you talking about, Anna?" interrupted Susie irritably. Itwas late, and she wanted to rest for a few minutes before dressing to goout again, and here was Anna in a new mood of a violent nature, and shewas weary beyond measure of all Anna's moods. 

"Oh, such a wonderful thing has happened!" cried Anna; "such a wonderfulthing! What will Peter say? And how glad you will be----" And she thrustthe letters with trembling fingers into Susie's unresponsive hand. 

"What is it?" said Susie, looking at them bewildered. 

"Oh, no--I forgot, " said Anna, wildly as it seemed to Susie, pullingthem out of her hand again. "You can't read German--see here----" Andshe began to unfold them and smooth out the creases she had made, herhands shaking visibly. 

Susie stared. Clearly something extraordinary had happened, for thefrosty Anna of the last few months had melted into a radiance of emotionthat would only not be ridiculous if it turned out to be justified. 

"Two German letters, " said Anna, sitting down on the nearest chair, spreading them out on her lap, and talking as though she could hardlyget the words out fast enough, "one from Uncle Joachim----"

"Uncle Joachim?" repeated Susie, a disagreeable and creepy doubt as toAnna's sanity coming over her. "You know very well he's dead and can'twrite letters, " she said severely. 

"--and one from his lawyer, " Anna went on, regardless of everything butwhat she had to tell. "The lawyer's letter is full of technical words, difficult to understand, but it is only to confirm what Uncle Joachimsays, and his is quite plain. He wrote it some time before he died, andleft it with his lawyer to send on to me. "

Susie was listening now with all her ears. Lawyers, deceased uncles, andAnna's sparkling face could only have one meaning. 

"Uncle Joachim was our mother's only brother----"

"I know, I know, " interrupted Susie impatiently. 

"--and was the dearest and kindest of uncles to me----"

"Never mind what he was, " interrupted Susie still more impatiently. "What has he done for you? Tell me that. You always pretended, both ofyou--Peter too--that he had miles of sandy places somewhere in thedesert, and dozens of boys. What could he do for you?"

"Do for me?" Anna rose up with a solemnity worthy of the great newsabout to be imparted, put both her hands on Susie's little shoulders, and looking down at her with shining eyes, said slowly, "He has left mean estate bringing in forty thousand marks a year. "

"Forty thousand!" echoed Susie, completely awestruck. 

"Marks, " said Anna. 

"Oh, marks, " said Susie, chilled. "That's francs, isn't it? I reallythought for a moment----"

"They're more than francs. It brings in, on an average, two thousandpounds a year. Two--thousand--pounds--a--year, " repeated Anna, noddingher head at each word. "Now, Susie, what do you think of that?"

"What do I think of it? Why, that it isn't much. Where would you allhave been, I wonder, if I had only had two thousand a year?"

"Oh, congratulate me!" cried Anna, opening her arms. "Kiss me, and tellme you are glad! Don't you see that I am off your hands at last? That weneed never think about husbands again? That you will never have to buyme any more clothes, and never tire your poor little self out any moretrotting me round? I don't know which of us is to be congratulatedmost, " she added laughing, looking at Susie with her eyes full of tears. Then she insisted on kissing her again, and murmured foolish things inher ear about being so sorry for all her horrid ways, and so grateful toher, and so determined now to be good for ever and ever. 

"My _dear_ Anna, " remonstrated Susie, who disliked sentiment and neverknew how to respond to exhibitions of feeling. "Of course I congratulateyou. It almost seems as if throwing away one's chances in the way youhave done was the right thing to do, and is being rewarded. Don't let uswaste time. You know we go out to dinner. What has he left Peter?"

"Peter?" said Anna wonderingly. 

"Yes, Peter. He was his nephew, I suppose, just as much as you were hisniece. "

"Well, but Susie, Peter is different. He--he doesn't need money as I do;and of course Uncle Joachim knew that. "

"Nonsense. He hasn't got a penny. Let me look at the letters. "

"They're in German. You won't be able to read them. "

"Give them to me. I learned German at school, and got a prize. You'renot the only person in the world who can do things. "

She took them out of Anna's hand, and began slowly and painfully to readthe one from Uncle Joachim, determined to see whether there really wasno mention of Peter. Anna looked on, hot and cold by turns with frightlest by some chance her early studies should not after all have beenquite forgotten. 

"Here's something about Peter--and me, " Susie said suddenly. "At least, I suppose he means me. It is something Dobbs. Why does he call me that?It hasn't been my name for fifteen years. "

"Oh, it's some silly German way. He says the _geborene_ Dobbs, todistinguish you from other Lady Estcourts. "

"But there are no others. "

"Oh, well, his sister was one. Give me the letter, Susie--I can tell youwhat he says much more quickly than you can read it. "

"'_Unter der Würde einer jünge Dame aus guter Familie_, '" read out Susieslowly, not heeding Anna, and with the most excruciating pronunciationthat was ever heard, "'_sich ewig auf den Federn, mit welchen diebürgerliche Gans geborene Dobbs Peters sonst mangelhaftes Nestausgestattet hat, zu wälzen_. ' What stuff he writes. I can hardlyunderstand it. Yet I must have been good at it at school, to get theprize. What is that bit about me and Peter?"

"Which bit?" said Anna, blushing scarlet. "Let me look. " She got theletter back into her possession. "Oh, that's where he says that--that hedoesn't think it fair that I should be a burden for ever on you andPeter. "

"Well, that's sensible enough. The old man had some sense in him afterall, absurd though he was, and vulgar. It _isn't_ fair, of course. Idon't mean to say anything disagreeable, or throw all I have done foryou in your face, but really, Anna, few mothers would have made thesacrifices I have for you, and as for sisters-in-law--well, I'd justlike to see another. "

"Dear Susie, " said Anna tenderly, putting her arm round her, ready toacknowledge all, and more than all, the benefits she had received, "youhave been only too kind and generous. I know that I owe you everythingin the world, and just think how lovely it is for me to feel that now Ican take my weight off your shoulders! You must come and live with _me_now, whenever you are sick of things, and I'll feel so proud, having youin my house!"

"Live with you?" exclaimed Susie, drawing herself away. "Where are yougoing to live?"

"Why, there, I suppose. "

"Live there! Is that a condition?"

"No, but Uncle Joachim keeps on saying he hopes I will, and that I'llsettle down and look after the place. "

"Look after the place yourself? How silly!"

"Yes, you haven't taught me much about farming, have you? He wants me toturn quite into a German. "

"Good gracious!" cried Susie, genuinely horrified. 

"He seems to think that I ought to work, and not spend my life talking_Klatsch_. "

"Talking what?"

"It's what German women apparently talk when they get together. Wedon't. I'd never do anything with such an ugly name, and I'm positiveyou wouldn't. "

"Where is this place?"

"Near Stralsund. "

"And where on earth is that?"

"Ah, " said Anna, investigating cobwebby corners of her memory, "that'swhat I should like to be able to remember. Perhaps, " she added honestly, "I never knew. Let me call Letty, and ask her to bring her atlas. "

"Letty won't know, " said Susie impatiently, "she only knows the thingsshe oughtn't to. "

"Oh, she isn't as wise as all that, " said Anna, ringing the bell. "Anyhow she has maps, which is more than we have. "

A servant was sent to request Miss Letty Estcourt to attend in thedrawing-room with her atlas. 

"Whatever's in the wind now?" inquired Letty, open-mouthed, of hergoverness. "They're not going to examine me this time of night, arethey, Leechy?" For she suffered greatly from having a brother who wasalways passing examinations and coming out top, and was consequentlysubjected herself, by an ambitious mother who was sure that she must beequally clever if she would only let herself go, to every examinationthat happened to be going for girls of her age; so that she and MissLeech spent their days either on the defensive, preparing for theseunprovoked assaults, or in the state of collapse which followed theregularly recurring defeat, and both found their lives a burden toogreat to be borne. 

There was a preliminary scuffle of washing and brushing, and then Lettymarched into the drawing-room, her atlas under her arm and deepsuspicion on her face. But no bland and treacherous examiner wasvisible, covering his preliminary movements with ghastly pleasantries;only her mother and her pretty aunt. 

"Where's Stralsund?" they cried together, as she opened the door. 

Letty stopped short and stared. "What's that?" she asked. 

"It's a place--a place in Germany. "

"Letty, do you mean to tell me that you don't know where Stralsund is?"asked Susie, in a voice that would have been of thunder if it had beenbig enough. "Do you mean to say that after all the money I have spent onyour education you don't know _that_?"

Was this a new form of torture? Was she to find the examining spiritlurking even in the familiar and hitherto harmless forms of her motherand her aunt? She openly showed her disgust. "If it's a place, it's inthis atlas, " she said, "and if this is going to be an examination, Idon't think it's fair; and if it's a game, I don't like it. " And shethrew her atlas unceremoniously on to the nearest chair; for though hermother could force her to do many things, she could never, somehow, force her to be respectful. 

"What a horror the child has of lessons!" cried Susie. "Don't be sosilly. We only want to see if you know where Stralsund is, that's all. "

"Tell us where it is, Letty, " said Anna coaxingly, kneeling down in frontof the chair and opening the atlas. "Let us find the map of Germany andlook for it. Why, you did Germany for your last exam. --you must have itall at your fingers' ends. "

"It didn't stay there, then, " said Letty moodily; but she went over toAnna, who was always kind to her, and began to turn over thewell-thumbed pages. 

Oh, what recollections lurked in those dirty corners! Surely it is hardon a person of fourteen, who is as fond of enjoying herself as anybodyelse, to be made to wrestle with maps upstairs in a dreary room, whenthe sun is shining, and the voices of the children passing come upjoyously to the prison windows, and all the world is out of doors! Lettythought so, and Miss Leech thought it hard on a person of thirty, andeach tried to console the other, but neither knew how, for their caseseemed very hopeless. Did not unending vistas of classes and lecturesstretch away before and behind them, dotted at intervals, oh, sofrequent! with the black spots of examinations? Was not the pavement ofGower Street, and Kensington Square, and of all those districts wheregirls can be lectured into wisdom, quite worn by their patient feet? Andthen the accomplishments! Oh, what a life it was! A man came twice aweek and insisted on teaching her to fiddle; a highly nervous man, whojerked her elbow and rapped her knuckles with his bow whenever sheplayed out of tune, which was all the time, and made bitter remarks of akillingly sarcastic nature to Miss Leech when she stumbled over theaccompaniments. On Wednesdays there was a dancing class, where a pinchedyoung lady played the piano with the energy of despair, and a hot andagile master with unduly turned-out toes taught the girls the Lancers, earning his bread in the sweat of his brow. He also was sarcastic, buthe clothed his sarcasms in the garb of kindly fun, laughing gently atthem himself, and expecting his pupils to laugh too; which they diduneasily, for the fun was of a personal nature, evoked by the clumsinessor stupidity of one or other of them, and none knew when her own turnmight not come. The lesson ended with what he called the March of Graceround the room, each girl by herself, no music to drown the noise hershoes made on the bare boards, the others looking on, and the mastermaking comments. This march was terrible to Letty. All her nightmareswere connected with it. She was a podgy, dull-looking girl, fat and paleand awkward, and her mother made her wear cheap shoes that creaked. "Miss Estcourt has new shoes on again, " the dancing master would say, gently smiling, when Letty was well on her way round the room, cut offfrom all human aid, conscious of every inch of her body, desperatelytrying to be graceful. And everybody tittered except the victim. "Youknow, Miss Estcourt, " he would say at every second lesson, "there is asaying that creaking shoes have not been paid for. I beg your pardon?Did you say they had been paid for? Miss Estcourt says she does notknow. " And he would turn to his other pupils with a shrug and a gentlesmile. 

On Saturday afternoons there were the Popular Concerts at St. James'sHall to be gone to--Susie regarded them as educational, andsubscribed--and Letty, who always had chilblains on her feet in winter, suffered tortures trying not to rub them; for as surely as she moved onefoot and began to rub the other with it, however gently, fierceenthusiasts in the row in front would turn on her--old gentlemen of anotherwise humane appearance, rapt ladies with eyeglasses and looseclothes--and sh-sh her with furious hissings into immobility. "Oh, Letty, _try_ and sit still, " Miss Leech, who dreaded publicity, wouldimplore in a whisper; but who that has not had them can know the tortureof chilblains inside thick boots, where they cannot be got at? As soonas the chilblains went, the Saturday concerts left off, and it seemed asthough Fate had nothing better to do than to be spiteful. 

It was indeed a dreadful thing, thought Letty, as she bent over the mapof Germany, to be young and to have to be made clever at all costs. Herewas her aunt even, her pretty, kind aunt, asking her geography questionsat seven o'clock at night, when she thought that she had really donewith lessons for one more day, and had been so much enjoying Leechy'sdescription of the only man she ever loved, while she comfortablytoasted cheese at the schoolroom fire. Anna, who spent such lofty hoursof spiritual exaltation at St. Paul's, and came away with her soulmelted into pity for the unhappy, and yearned with her whole being tohelp them, never thought of Letty as a creature who might perhaps behelped to cheerfulness with a little trouble. Letty was too close athand; and enthusiastic philanthropists, casting about for objects ofcharity, seldom see what is at their feet. 

It was so difficult to find Stralsund that by the time Letty's wanderingfinger had paused upon it Susie could only give one glance of horror atits position, and hurry away with Anna to dress. Anna, too, would havepreferred it to be farther south, in the Black Forest, or some otherromantic region, where it would have amused her to go occasionally, atleast, for a few weeks in the summer. But there it was, as far north asit could be, in a part of the world she had hardly heard of, except inconnection with dogs. 

It did not, however, matter where it was. Uncle Joachim had merelyrecommended and not enjoined. It would be rather extraordinary for herto go there and set up housekeeping alone. She need not go; she wasalmost sure she would not go. Anyhow there was no necessity to decide atonce. The money was what she wanted, and she could spend it where shechose. Let Uncle Joachim's inspector, of whom he wrote in such praise, go on getting forty thousand marks a year out of the place, and shewould be perfectly content. 

She ran upstairs to put on her prettiest dress, and to have her hairdone in the curls and waves she had so long eschewed. Should she notmake herself as charming as possible for this charming world, whereeverybody was so good and kind, and add her measure of beauty andkindness to the rest? She beamed on Letty as she passed her on thestairs, climbing slowly up with her big atlas, and took it from her andwould carry it herself; she beamed on Miss Leech, who was watching forher pupil at the schoolroom door; she beamed on her maid, she beamed onher own reflection in the glass, which indeed at that moment was that ofa very beautiful young woman. Oh happy, happy world! What should she dowith so much money? She, who had never had a penny in her life, thoughtit an enormous, an inexhaustible sum. One thing was certain--it was allto be spent in doing good; she would help as many people with it as shepossibly could, and never, never, never let them feel that they wereunder obligations. Did she not know, after fifteen years of dependenceon Susie, what it was like to be under obligations? And what was morecruelly sad and crushing and deadening than dependence? She did not yetknow what sort of people she would help, or in what way she would help, but oh, she was going to make heaps of people happy forever! WhileHilton was curling her hair, she thought of slums; but remembered thatthey would bring her into contact with the clergy, and most of heroffers of late had been from the clergy. Even the vicar who had preparedher for confirmation, his first wife being then alive, and a secondhaving since been mourned, had wanted to marry her. "It's because I amtwenty-five and staid that they think me suitable, " she thought; but shecould not help smiling at the face in the glass. 

When she was dressed and ready to go down she was forced to ask herselfwhether the person that she saw in the glass looked in the least like aperson who would ever lead the simple, frugal, hard-working life thatUncle Joachim had called the better life, and in which he seemed tothink she would alone find contentment. Certainly she knew him to bevery wise. Well, nothing need be decided yet. Perhaps she wouldgo--perhaps she would not. "It's this white dress that makes me lookso--so unsuitable, " she said to herself, "and Hilton's wonderful waves. "

And she went downstairs trying not to sing, the sweetest of femininecreatures, happiness and love and kindness shining in her eyes, a lovelything saved from the blight of empty years, and brought back to beauty, by Uncle Joachim's timely interference. 

Letty and Miss Leech heard the singing, and stopped involuntarily intheir conversation. It was a strange sound in that dull and joylesshouse. 

"I don't know what's the matter, Leechy, " Letty had said, on her returnfrom the drawing-room, "but mamma and Aunt Anna are too weird to-nightfor anything. What do you think they had me down for? They didn't knowwhere Stralsund was, and wanted to find out. They pretended they wantedto see if _I_ knew, but I soon saw through that game. And Aunt Annalooks frightfully happy. I believe she's going to be married, and wantsto go to Stralsund for the honeymoon. "

And Letty took up her toasting fork, while Miss Leech, as in duty bound, refreshed her pupil's memory in regard to Stralsund and Wallenstein andthe Hansa cities generally. 

CHAPTER IV

Peter, meditating on the banks of the river at Estcourt, came to theconclusion that a journey to London would be made unnecessary by theequal efficacy of a congratulatory letter. 

He had been greatly moved by the news of his sister's good fortune, andin the first flush of pleasure and sympathy had ordered his things to bepacked in readiness for his departure by the night train. Then he hadgone down to the river, and there, thinking the matter over quietly, amid the soothing influences of grey sky, grey water, and green grass, he gradually perceived that a letter would convey all that he felt quitewell, perhaps better than any verbal expressions of joy, and as he wouldin any case only stay a few hours in town the long journey seemed hardlyworth while. He sent a letter, therefore, that very evening--a kind, brotherly letter, in which, after heartily congratulating his dearlittle sister, he said that it would be necessary for her to go over toGermany, see the lawyer, and take possession of her property. When shehad done that, and made all arrangements as to the future payment of theincome derived from the estate, she would of course come back to them;for Estcourt was always to be her home, and now that she was independentshe would no longer be obliged to be wherever Susie was, but would, hehoped, come to him, and they could go fishing together, --"and there'snothing to beat fishing, " concluded Peter, "if you want peace. "

But Anna did not want peace; at least, not that kind of peace just atthat moment. Sitting in a punt was not what she wanted. She was thrilledby the love of her less fortunate fellow-creatures, and the sense ofpower to help them, and the longing to go and do it. What she reallywanted of Peter was that he should take her to Germany and help herthrough the formalities; for before his letter arrived she too had seenthat that was the first thing to be done. 

Of this, however, he did not write a word. She thought he must haveforgotten, so natural did it appear to her that her brother should gowith her; and she wrote him a little note, asking when he would be ableto get away. She received a long letter in reply, full of regrets, excuses, and good reasons, which she read wonderingly. Had she beenselfish, or was Peter selfish? She thought it all out carefully, andfound that it was she who had been selfish to expect Peter, always ahater of business and a lover of quiet, to go all that way and worryhimself with tiresome money arrangements. Besides, perhaps he was notfeeling well. She knew he suffered from rheumatism; and when you haverheumatism the mere thought of a long journey is appalling. 

Susie, whose head was very clear on all matters concerning money, hadalso recognised the necessity of Anna's going to Germany, and had alsoregarded Peter as the most natural companion and guide; but she was notsurprised when Anna told her that he could not go. "It was too much toexpect, " apologised Anna. "He often has rheumatism in the spring, andperhaps he has it now. "

Susie sniffed. 

"The question is, " said Anna after a pause, "what am I to do, helplessvirgin, in spite of my years, --never able to do a thing for myself?"

"I'll go with you. "

"You? But what about your engagements?"

"Oh, I'll throw them over, and take you. Letty can come too. It will doher German good. Herr Schumpf says he's ashamed of her. "

Susie had various reasons for offering herself so amiably, one beingcertainly curiosity. But the chief one was that the same woman who hadbeen so rude to her the day Anna's news came, had sent out invitationsto all the world to her daughter's wedding after Easter, and had notsent one to Susie. 

This was one of those trials that cannot be faced. If she, being inLondon at the time, carefully explained to her friends that she was illthat day, and did actually stay in bed and dose herself the dayspreceding and following, who would believe her? Not if she waved adoctor's certificate in their faces would they believe her. They wouldknow that she had not been invited, and would rejoice. She felt that shecould not bear it. An unavoidable business journey to the Continent wasexactly what she wanted to help her out of this desperate situation. Onher return she would be able to hear the wedding discussed and expressher disappointment at having missed it with a serene brow and a quietmind. 

It is doubtful whether she would have gone with Anna, however urgentAnna's need, if she had been included in those invitations. But Anna, who could not know the secret workings of her mind, once more rememberedher former treatment of Susie, so kind and willing to do all she could, and hung her head with shame. 

They left London a day or two before Easter, Letty and Miss Leech, bothof them nearly ill with suppressed delight at the unexpected holiday, going with them. They had announced their coming to Uncle Joachim'slawyer, and asked him to make arrangements for their accommodation atKleinwalde, Anna's new possession. Susie proposed to stay a day inBerlin, which would give Anna time to talk everything over with thelawyer, and would enable Letty to visit the museums. She had a hopefulidea that Letty would absorb German at every pore once she was in thecountry itself, and that being brought face to face with the statues ofGoethe and Schiller on their native soil would kindle the sparks ofinterest in German literature that she supposed every well-taught childpossessed, into the roaring flame of enthusiasm. She could not believethat Letty had no sparks. One of her children being so abnormallyclever, it must be sheer obstinacy on the part of the other thatprevented it from acquiring the knowledge offered daily in suchunstinted quantities. She had no illusions in regard to Letty's person, and felt that as she would never be pretty it was of importance that sheshould at least be cultured. She sat opposite her daughter in the train, and having nothing better to do during the long hours that they werejolting across North Germany, looked at her; and the more she looked themore unreasoningly angry she became that Peter's sister should be sopretty and Peter's daughter so plain. And then so fat! What a horriblething to have to take a fat daughter about with you in society. Wheredid she get it from? She herself and Peter were the leanest of mortals. It must be that Letty ate too much, which was not only a disgustingpractice but an expensive one, and should be put down at once withrigour. Susie had not had such an opportunity of thoroughly inspectingher child for years, and the result of this prolonged examination of herweak points was that she would not let any of the party have anything toeat at all, declaring that it was vulgar to eat in trains, expressingamazement that people should bring themselves to touch thehorrid-looking food offered, and turning her back in impatient disguston two stout German ladies who had got in at Oberhausen, and who wereenjoying their lunch quite unmoved by her contempt--one eating a chickenfrom beginning to end without a fork, and the other taking repeated sipsof an obviously satisfactory nature from a big wine bottle, which wasused, in the intervals, as a support to her back. 

By the time Berlin was reached, these ladies, having been properly fedall day, were very cheerful, whereas Susie's party was speechless fromexhaustion; especially poor Miss Leech, who was never very strong, andso nearly fainted that Susie was obliged to notice it, and expressed aconviction to Anna in a loud and peevish aside that Miss Leech was goingto be a nuisance. 

"It is strange, " thought Anna, as she crept into bed, "how travellingbrings out one's worst passions. "

It is indeed strange; for it is certain that nothing equals theexpectant enthusiasm and mutual esteem of the start except the colddislike of the finish. Many are the friendships that have found anunforeseen and sudden end on a journey, and few are those that surviveit. But if Horace Walpole and Grey fell out, if Byron and Leigh Huntwere obliged to part, if a host of other personages, endowed with everygift that makes companionship desirable, could not away with each otherafter a few weeks together abroad, is it to be wondered at that weakervessels such as Susie and Anna, Letty and Miss Leech, should have foundthe short journey from London to Berlin sufficient to enable them to seeone another's failings with a clearness of vision that was startling?

On the lawyer, a keen-eyed man with a conspicuously fine face, Anna madean entirely favourable impression. When he saw this gracious young lady, so simple and so friendly, and looked into her frank and charming eyes, he perfectly understood that old Joachim should have been bewitched. Butafter a little conversation, it appeared that she had no presentintention of carrying out her uncle's wishes, but, setting them coollyaside, proposed to spend all the good German money she could extractfrom her property in that replete and bloated land, England. 

This annoyed him; first because he hated England and then because hisfather had managed old Joachim's affairs before he himself had steppedinto the paternal shoes, and the feeling of both father and son for theold man had been considerably warmer than is usual between lawyer andclient. Still he could not believe, judging after the manner of men, that anything so pretty could also be unkind; and scrutinising LadyEstcourt, because she was unattractive and had a sharp little face and arestless little body, he was convinced that she it was who was the causeof this setting aside of a dead benefactor's wishes. Susie, for herpart, patronised him because his collar turned down. 

Whenever Letty thought afterwards of Berlin, she thought of it as aplace where all the houses are museums, and where you drink so many cupsof chocolate with whipped cream on the top that you see things doublefor the rest of the time. 

Anna thought of it as a charming place, where delightful lawyers fillyour purse with money. 

Susie thought of it with satisfaction as the one place abroad where, bydint of sternest economy, walks from sight to sight in the rain, andpromiscuous cakes instead of the more satisfactory but less cheap mealsLetty called square, she had successfully defended herself from being, as she put it, fleeced. 

To Miss Leech, it was merely a place where your feet get wet, and yourclothes are spoilt. 

Early the next morning they started for Kleinwalde. 

CHAPTER V

Stralsund is an old town of gabled houses, ancient churches, and quaint, roughly paved streets, forming an island, and joined to the mainland bydikes. It looks its best in the early summer, when the green and marshyplains on whose edge it stands are strewn with kingcups, and the littlewhite clouds hang over them almost motionless, and the cattle are out, and the larks sing, and the orange and red sails of the fishing-smackson the narrow belt of sea that divides the town from the island of Rügenmake brilliant points of contrasting colour between the blue of waterand sky. There is a divine freshness and brightness about thesurrounding stretches of coarse grass and common flowers at that blestseason of the year. The air is full of the smell of the sea. The sunbeats down fiercely on plain and city. The people come out of the roomsin which most of their life is spent, and stand in the doorways andremark on the heat. An occasional heavy cart bumps over the stones, heard in that sleepy place for several minutes before and after itspassing. There is an honest, tarry, fishy smell everywhere; and thetraveller of poetic temperament in search of the picturesque, and nottoo nice about his comforts, could not fail, visiting it for the firsttime in the month of June, to be wholly delighted that he had come. 

But in winter, and especially in those doubly gloomy days at the end ofwinter, when spring ought to have shown some signs of its approach andhas not done so, those days of howling winds and driving rain andfrequent belated snowstorms, this plain is merely a bleak expanse ofdreariness, with a forlorn old town huddling in its farthest corner. 

It was at its very bleakest and dreariest on the morning that Susie andher three companions travelled across it. "What a place!" exclaimedSusie, as mile after mile was traversed, and there was still the samesuccession of flat ploughed fields, marshes, and ploughed fields again, with a rare group of furiously swaying pine trees or of silver birchesbent double before the wind. "What a part of the world to come and livein! That old uncle of yours was as cracked as he could be to think you'dever stay here for good. And imagine spending even a single shillingbuying land here. I wouldn't take a barrowful at a gift. "

"Well, I am taking a great many barrowfuls, " said Anna, "and I am sureUncle Joachim was right to buy a place here--he was always right. "

"Oh, of course, it's your duty now to praise him up. Perhaps it getsbetter farther on, but I don't see how anybody can squeeze two thousanda year out of a desert like this. "

The prospect from the railway that day was certainly not attractive; butAnna told herself that any place would look dreary such weather, and wasmuch too happy in the first flush of independence to be depressed byanything whatever. Had she not that very morning given the chambermaidat the Berlin hotel so bounteous a reward for services not rendered thatthe woman herself had said it was too much? Thus making amends for thoseinnumerable departures from hotels when Susie had escaped without givinganything at all. Had she not also asked, and readily obtained, permission of Susie at the station in Berlin to pay for the tickets ofthe whole party? And had it not been a delightful and warming feeling, buying those tickets for other people instead of having tickets boughtby other people for herself? At Pasewalk, a little town half way betweenBerlin and Stralsund, where the train stopped ten minutes, she insistedon getting out, defying the sleet and the puddles, and went into therefreshment room, and bought eggs and rolls and cakes, --everything shecould find that was least offensive. Also a guidebook to Stralsund, though she was not going to stop in Stralsund; also some postcards withviews on them, though she never used postcards with views on them, andcame back loaded with parcels, her face glowing with childish pleasureat spending money. 

"My _dear_ Anna, " said Susie; but she was hungry, and ate a roll withperfect complacency, allowing Letty to do the same, although only twodays had elapsed since she had so energetically lectured her on thegrossness of eating in trains. 

Susie was in a particularly amiable frame of mind, and in spite of theweather was looking forward to seeing the place Uncle Joachim hadthought would be a fit home for his niece; and as she and Anna weresitting together at one end of the carriage, and Letty and Miss Leechwere at the other, and there was no one else in the compartment, she wasneither upset by the too near contemplation of her daughter, nor by theaspect of other travellers lunching. Miss Leech, always mindful of herduties, was making the most of her five hours' journey by endeavouring, in a low voice, to clear away the haze that hung in her pupil's mindround the details of her last winter's German studies. "Don't youremember anything of Professor Smith's lectures, Letty?" she inquired. "Why, they were all about just this part of Germany, and it makes it somuch more interesting if one knows what happened at the differentplaces. Stralsund, you know, where we shall be presently, has had a mostturbulent and interesting past. "

"Has it?" said Letty. "Well, I can't help it, Leechy. "

"No; but my dear, you should try to recollect something at least of whatyou heard at the lectures. Have you forgotten the paper you wrote aboutWallenstein?"

"I remember I did a paper. Beastly hard it was, too. "

"Oh, Letty, don't say beastly--it really isn't a ladylike word. "

"Why, mamma's always saying it. "

"Oh, well. Don't you know what Wallenstein said when he was besiegingStralsund and found it such a difficult task?"

"I suppose he said too that it was beastly hard. "

"Oh, Letty--it was something about chains. Now do you remember?"

"Chains?" repeated Letty, looking bored. "Do _you_ know, Leechy?"

"Yes, I still remember that, though I confess that I have forgotten thegreater part of what I heard. "

"Then what do you ask me for, when you know I don't know? What did hesay about chains?"

"He said that he'd take the city, if it were rivetted to heaven withchains of iron, " said Miss Leech dramatically. 

"What a goat. "

"Oh, hush--don't say those horrible words. Where do you learn them? Notfrom me, certainly not from me, " said Miss Leech, distressed. She had aprofound horror of slang, and was bewildered by the way in which theseweeds of rhetoric sprang up on all occasions in Letty's speech. 

"Well, and was it?"

"Was it what, my dear?"

"Chained to heaven?"

"The city? Why, how can a city be chained to heaven, Letty?"

"Then what did he say it for?"

"He was using a metaphor. "

"Oh, " said Letty, who did not know what a metaphor was, but supposed itmust be something used in sieges, and preferred not to inquire tooclosely. 

"He was obliged to retire, " said Miss Leech, "leaving enormous numbersof slain on the field. "

"Poor beasts. I say, Leechy, " she whispered, "don't let's bother abouthistory now. Go on with Mr. Jessup. You'd got to where he called you Amyfor the first time. "

Mr. Jessup was the person already alluded to in these pages as the onlyman Miss Leech had ever loved, and his history was of absorbing interestto Letty, who never tired of hearing his first appearance on MissLeech's horizon described, with his subsequent advances before the stageof open courting was reached, the courting itself, and its melancholyend; for Mr. Jessup, a clergyman of the Church of England, with avicarage all ready to receive his wife, had suddenly become a prey tonew convictions, and had gone over to the Church of Rome; whereupon MissLeech's father, also a clergyman of the Church of England, had talked agreat deal about the Scarlet Woman of Babylon, and had shut the door inMr. Jessup's face when next he called to explain. This had happened whenMiss Leech was twenty. Now, at thirty, an orphan resigned to the world'sbuffets, she found a gentle consolation in repeating the story of herill-starred engagement to her keenly interested friend and pupil; andthe oftener she repeated it the less did it grieve her, till at last shecame actually to enjoy the remembrance of it, pleased to have played theprincipal part even in a drama that was hissed off her little stage, glad to find a sympathetic listener, dwelling much and fondly on everyincident of that short period of importance and glory. 

It is doubtful whether she would ever have extracted the same amount ofpleasure from Mr. Jessup had he remained fixed in the faith of hisfathers and married her in due season. By his secession he hadunconsciously become a sort of providence to Letty and herself, savingthem from endless hours of dulness, furnishing their lonely schoolroomlife with romance and mystery; and if in Miss Leech's mind he graduallytook on the sweet intangibility of a pleasant dream, he was the verypith and marrow of Letty's existence. She glowed and thrilled at thethought that perhaps she too would one day have a Mr. Jessup of her own, who would have convictions, and give up everything, herself included, for what he believed to be right. 

As usual, they at once became absorbed in Mr. Jessup, forgetting in thecontemplation of his excellencies everything else in the world, tillthey were roused to realities by their arrival at Stralsund; and Susie, thrusting books and bags and umbrellas into their passive hands, pushedthem out of the carriage into the wet. 

Hilton, the maid shared by Susie and Anna, had then to be found andurged to clamber down quickly on to the low platform, where she stoodhelplessly, the picture of injured superiority, hustled by the hurryingporters and passengers, out of whose way she scorned to move, while Annawent to look for the luggage and have it put into the cart that had beensent for it. 

This cart was an ordinary farm cart, used for bringing in the hay inJune, but also used for carrying out the manure in November; and on asack of straw lying in the bottom it was expected that Hilton shouldsit. The farm boy who drove it, and who helped the porter to tie thetrunks to its sides lest they should too violently bump against eachother and Hilton on the way, said so; the coachman of the carriagewaiting for the _Herrschaften_ pointed with his whip first at Hilton andthen at the cart, and said so; the porter, who seemed to think it quitenatural, said so; and everybody was waiting for Hilton to get in, who, when she had at length grasped the situation, went to Susie, who waslooking frightened and pretending to be absorbed by the sky, and with avoice shaken by passion, and a face changing from white to red, announced her intention of only going in that cart as a corpse, whenthey might do with her as they pleased, but as a living body with breathin it, never. 

Here was a difficulty. And idlers, whose curiosity was notextinguishable by wind and sleet, began to press round, and people whohad come by the same train stopped on their way out to listen. The farmboy patted the sack and declared that it was clean straw, the coachmanstood up on his box and swore that it was a new sack, the porter assuredthe Fräulein that it was as comfortable as a feather bed, and nobodyseemed to understand that what she was being offered was an insult. 

Susie was afraid of Hilton, who had been in the service of duchesses, and who held these duchesses over her mistress's head whenever hermistress wanted to do anything that was inconvenient to herself; quotingtheir sayings, pointing out how they would have acted in any given case, and always, it appeared, they had done exactly what Hilton desired. Susie's admiration for duchesses was slavish, and Hilton was treatedwith an indulgent liberality that was absurd compared to the stinginessdisplayed towards everyone else. Hilton was not more horrified than hermistress when she saw the farm cart, and understood that it was for theluggage and the maid. It was impossible to take her with them in whatthe porter called the _herrschaftliche Wagen_, for it was a kind ofvictoria, and how to get their four selves into it was a sufficientpuzzle. "What shall we do?" said Susie, in despair, to Anna. 

"Do? Why, she'll have to go in it. Hilton, don't be a foolish person, and don't keep us here in the wet. This isn't England, and nobody thinksanything here of driving in farm carts. It is patriarchal simplicity, that's all. People are staring at you now because you are making such afuss. Get in like a good soul, and let us start. "

"Only as a corpse, m'm, " reiterated Hilton with chattering teeth, "neveras a living body. "

"Nonsense, " said Anna impatiently. 

"What shall we do?" repeated Susie. "Poor Hilton--what barbarians theymust be here. "

"We must send her in a _Droschky_, then, if it isn't too far, and we canget one to go. "

"A _Droschky_ all that distance! It will be ruinous. "

"Well, we can't stand here amusing these people for ever. "

"Oh, I wish we had never come to this horrible place!" cried Susie, really made miserable by Hilton's rage. 

But Anna did not stay to listen either to her laments or to Hilton'smonotonous "Only as a corpse, m'lady, " and was already arranging with anunwilling driver, who had no desire whatever to drive to Kleinwalde, butconsented to do so on being promised twenty marks, a rest and feed ofoats for his horses, and any little addition in the shape of refreshmentand extra money that might suggest itself to Anna's generosity. 

"You know, Anna, you can't expect _me_ to pay for the fly, " said Susieuneasily, when the appeased Hilton had been put into it and was out ofearshot. "That dreadful cart is your property, I suppose. "

"Of course it is, " said Anna, smiling, "and of course the fly is myaffair. How magnificent I feel, disposing of carts and _Droschkies_. Now, will you please to get into my carriage? And do you observe theextreme respectfulness of my coachman?"

The coachman, a strange-looking, round-shouldered being, with a longgrizzled beard, a dark-blue cloth cap on his head, and a body clothed ina fawn-coloured suit and gaiters, on which a great many tarnished silverbuttons adorned with Uncle Joachim's coat of arms were fastened at shortintervals, removed his cap while his new mistress and her party wereentering the carriage, and did not put it on again till they were readyto start. 

"Quite as though we were royalties, " said Susie. 

"But the rest of him isn't, " replied Anna, who was greatly amused by theturn-out. "Do you like my horses, Susie? Or do you suspect them ofhaving been ploughing all the morning? Oh, well, " she added quickly, ashamed of laughing at any part of her dear uncle's gift, "I suppose onehas to have heavily built horses in this part of the world, where theroads are probably frightfully bad. "

"Their tails might be a little shorter, " said Susie. 

"They might, " agreed Anna serenely. 

With the aid of the porter, who knew all about Uncle Joachim's will andwas deeply interested, they were at last somehow packed into thecarriage, and away they rattled over the rough stones, threading theoutskirts of the town on the mainland, the hail and wind in their faces, out into the open country, with their horses' heads turned towards thenorth. The fly containing Hilton followed more leisurely behind, and thefarm cart containing the unused sack of straw followed the fly. 

"We can't see much of Stralsund, " said Anna, trying to peep round thehood at the old town across the lakes separating it from the mainland. 

"It's a very historical town, " observed Susie, who had happened tonotice, as she idly turned over the pages of her Baedeker on the waydown, that there was a long description of it with dates. "As of courseyou know, " she added, turning sharply to her daughter. 

"Rather, " said Letty. "Wallenstein said he'd take it if it were chainedto heaven, and when he found it wasn't he was frightfully sick, and wentaway and left them all in the fields. "

Miss Leech, who was on the little seat, struggling to defend herselffrom the fury of the elements with an umbrella, looked anxious, butSusie only said in a gratified voice, "I'm glad you remember what you'vebeen taught. " To which Letty, who was in great spirits, and thought thisdrive in the wet huge fun, again replied heartily, "Rather, " and hermother congratulated herself on having done the right thing in bringingher to Germany, home of erudition and profundity, already evidentlybeginning to do its work. 

The carriage smelt of fish, which presently upset Susie, who, unfortunately for her, had a nose that smelt everything. While they werein the town she thought the smell was in the streets, and bore it; butout in the open, where there was not a house to be seen, she found thatit was in the carriage. 

She fidgeted, and looked about, feeling with her foot under the oppositeseat, expecting to find a basket somewhere, and determined if she foundone to push it out quietly and say nothing; for that she should drivefor two hours with her handkerchief up to her nose was more than anybodycould expect of her. Already she had done more than anybody ought toexpect of her, she reflected, in going to the expense of the journey andthe inconvenience of the absence from home for Anna's sake, and shehoped that Anna felt grateful. She had never yet shrunk from her dutytowards Anna, or indeed from her duty towards anyone, and she was sureshe never would; but her duty certainly did not include the passiveendurance of offensive smells. 

"What are you looking for?" asked Anna. 

"Why, the fish. "

"Oh, do you smell it too?"

"Smell it? I should think I did. It's killing me. "

"Oh, poor Susie!" laughed Anna, who was possessed by an uncontrollabledesire to laugh at everything. The conveyance (it could hardly be calleda carriage) in which they were seated, and which she supposed was theone destined for her use if she lived at Kleinwalde, was unlike anythingshe had yet seen. It was very old, with enormous wheels, and bumpeddreadfully, and the seat was so constructed that she was continuallyslipping forward and having to push herself back again. It was linedthroughout, including the hood, with a white and black shepherd's plaidin large squares, the white squares mellowed by the stains of use andtime to varying shades of brown and yellow; when Miss Leech's umbrellawas blown aside by a gust of wind Anna could see her coachman's drabcoat, with a little end of white tape that he had forgotten to tie, andwhose uses she was unable to guess, fluttering gaily between its tailsin the wind; on the left side of the box was a very big and gorgeouscoat of arms in green and white, Uncle Joachim's colours; and whicheverway she turned her head, there was the overpowering smell of fish. "Wemust be taking our dinner home with us, " she said, "but I don't see itanywhere. "

"There isn't anything under the seats. Perhaps the man has got it on thebox. Ask him, Anna; I really can't stand it. "

Anna did not quite know how to attract his attention. It seemedundignified to poke him, but she did not know his name, and the windblew her voice back in the direction of Stralsund when she had clearedit, and coughed, and called out rather shyly, "Oh, _Kutscher!Kutscher!_"

Then she remembered that oh was not German, and that Uncle Joachim hadused sonorous achs in its place, and she began again, "_Ach, Kutscher!Kutscher!_"

Letty giggled. "Go it, Aunt Anna, " she said encouragingly, "dig him inthe ribs with your umbrella--or I will, if you like. "

Her mother, with her handkerchief to her nose, exhorted her not to bevulgar. Letty explained at some length that she was only being nice, andoffering assistance. 

"I really shall have to poke him, " said Anna, her faint cries of_Kutscher_ quite lost in the rattling of the carriage and the howling ofthe wind. "Or perhaps you would touch his arm, Miss Leech. "

Miss Leech turned, and very gingerly touched his sleeve. He at oncewhistled to his horses, who stopped dead, snatched off his cap, andlooking down at Anna inquired her commands. 

It was done so quickly that Anna, whose conversational German wasexceedingly rusty, was quite unable to remember the word for fish, andsat looking up at him helplessly, while she vainly searched her brains. 

"What _is_ fish in German?" she said, appealing to Susie, distressedthat the man should be waiting capless in the rain. 

"Letty, what's the word for fish?" inquired Susie sternly. 

"Fish?" repeated Letty, looking stupid. 

"Fish?" echoed Miss Leech, trying to help. 

"_Fisch?_" said the coachman himself, catching at the word. 

"Oh, yes; how utterly silly I am, " cried Anna blushing and showing herdimples, "it's _Fisch_, of course. _Kutscher, wo ist Fisch?_"

The man looked blank; then his face brightened, and pointing with hiswhip to the rolling sea on their right, visible across the flatintervening fields, he said that there was much fish in it, especiallyherrings. 

"What does he say?" asked Susie from behind her handkerchief. 

"He says there are herrings in the sea. "

"Is the man a fool?"

Letty laughed uproariously. The coachman, seeing Letty and Anna laugh, thought he must have said the right thing after all, and looked verypleasant. 

"_Aber im Wagen_, " persisted Anna, "_wo ist Fisch im Wagen?_"

The coachman stared. Then he said vaguely, in a soothing voice, not inthe least knowing what she meant, "_Nein, nein, gnädiges Fräulein_, " andevidently hoped she would be satisfied. 

"_Aber es riecht, es riecht!_" cried Anna, not satisfied at all, andlifting up her nose in unmistakeable displeasure. 

His face brightened again. "_Ach so--jawohl, jawohl_, " he exclaimedcheerfully; and hastened to explain that there were no fish nearer thanthe sea, but that the grease he had used that morning to make theleather of the hood and apron shine certainly had a fishy smell, as hehimself had noticed. "The gracious Miss loves not the smell?" heinquired anxiously; for he had seven children, and was very desirousthat his new mistress should be pleased. 

Anna laughed and shook her head, and though she said with great emphasisthat she did not love it at all, she looked so friendly that he feltreassured. 

"What does he say?" asked Susie. 

"Why, I'm afraid we shall have it all the way. It's the grease he's beenrubbing the leather with. "

"Barbarian!" cried Susie angrily, feeling sick already, and certain thatshe would be quite ill by the end of the drive. "And you laugh at himand encourage him, instead of taking up your position at once andshowing him that you won't stand any nonsense. He ought to be--to beunboxed!" she added in great wrath; for she had heard of delinquentclergymen being unfrocked, and why should not delinquent coachmen beunboxed?

Anna laughed again. She tried not to, but she could not help it; andSusie, made still more angry by this childish behaviour, sulked duringthe rest of the drive. 

"Go on--_avanti_!" said Anna, who knew hardly any Italian, and when shewas in Italy and wanted her words never could find them, but had beentroubled the last two days by the way in which these words came to herlips every time she opened them to speak German. 

The coachman understood her, however, and they went on again along thestraight high-road, that stretched away before them to a distant bend. The high-road, or _chaussée_, was planted on either side with maples, and between the maples big whitewashed stones had been set to mark theway at night, and behind the rows of trees and stones, ditches had beendug parallel with the road as a protection to the crops in summer fromthe possible wanderings of erring carts. If a cart erred, it tumbledinto the ditch. The arrangement was simple and efficacious. On theright, across some marshy land, they could see the sea for a littlewhile, with the flat coast of Rügen opposite; and then some risingground, bare of trees and brilliantly green with winter corn, hid itfrom view. On the left was the dreary plain, dotted at long intervalswith farms and their little groups of trees, and here and there withwindmills working furiously in the gale. The wind was icy, and theDecember snow still lay in drifts in the ditches. In that leadenlandscape, made up of grey and brown and black, the patches of winterrye were quite startling in their greenness. 

Susie thought it the most God-forsaken country she had ever seen, andexpressed this opinion plainly on her face and in her attitudes withoutany need for opening her lips, shuddering back ostentatiously into hercorner, wrapping herself with elaborate care in her furs, and behavingas slaves to duty sometimes do when the paths they have to tread arerough. 

After driving along the _chaussée_ for about an hour, they passed a bighouse standing among trees back from the road on the right, and a littlefarther on came to a small village. The carriage, pulled up with a jerk, and looking eagerly round the hood Anna found they had come to astandstill in front of a new red-brick building, whose steps werecrowded with children. Two or three men and some women were with thechildren. Two of the men appeared to be clergymen, and the elder, amiddle-aged, mild-faced man, came down the steps, and bowing profoundlyproceeded to welcome Anna solemnly, on behalf of those children fromKleinwalde who attended this school, to her new home. He concluded thatAnna was the person to be welcomed because he could see nothing of thelady in the other corner but her eyes, and they looked anything butfriendly; whereas the young lady on the left was leaning forward andsmiling and holding out her hand. 

He took it, and shook it slowly up and down, while he begged her toallow the hood of the carriage to be put back, so that the children fromher village, who had walked three miles to welcome her, might be able tosee her; and on Anna's readily agreeing to this, himself helped thecoachman with his own white-gloved hands to put it down. Susie wastherefore exposed to the full fury of the blast, and shrank stillfarther into her corner--an interesting and tantalising object to theschool-children, a dark, mysterious combination of fur, cocks' feathers, and black eyebrows. 

Then the clergyman, hat in hand, made a speech. He spoke distinctly, asone accustomed to speaking often and long, and Anna understood everyword. She was wholly taken aback by these ceremonies, and had no idea ofwhat she should say in reply, but sat smiling vaguely at him, lookingvery pretty and very shy. She soon found that her smiles wereinappropriate, and they died away; for, warming as he proceeded, theparson, it appeared, was taking it for granted that she intended to liveon her property, and was eloquently descanting on the comfort she wasgoing to be to the poor, assuring those present that she would be amother to the sick, nursing them with her tender woman's hands, an angelof mercy to the hungry, feeding them in the hour of their distress, afriend and sister to the little children, succouring them, caring forthem, pitiful of their weakness and their sins. His face lit up withenthusiasm as he went on, and Anna was thankful that Susie could notunderstand. This crowd of children, the women, the young parson, hercoachman, were all hearing promises made on her behalf that she had nothought of fulfilling. She looked down, and twisted her fingers aboutnervously, and felt uncomfortable. 

At the end of his speech, the parson, his eyes full of the tears drawnforth by his own eloquence, held up his hand and solemnly blessed her, rounding off his blessing with a loud Amen, after which there was anawkward pause. Susie heard the Amen, and guessed that something in thenature of a blessing was being invoked, and made a movement ofimpatience. The parson was odious in her eyes, first because he lookedlike the ministers of the Baptist chapels of her unmarried youth, butprincipally because he was keeping her there in the gale and prolongingthe tortures she was enduring from the smell of fish. Anna did not knowwhat to say after the Amen, and looked up more shyly than ever, andstammered in her confusion _Danke sehr_, hoping that it was a properremark to make; whereupon the parson bowed again, as one who should sayPray don't mention it. Then another man, evidently the schoolmaster, took out a tuning-fork, gave out a note, and the children sang a_chorale_, following it up with other more cheerful songs, in which thewords _Frühling_ and _Willkommen_ were repeated a great many times, while the wind howled flattest contradiction. 

When this was over, the parson begged leave to introduce the otherclerical-looking person, a tall narrow youth, also in white kid gloves, buttoned up tightly in a long coat of broadcloth, with a pallid face andthick, upright flaxen hair. 

"Herr Vicar Klutz, " said the elder parson, with a wave of the hand; andthe Herr Vicar, making his bow, and having his limp hand heartilygrasped by that other little hand, and his furtive eyes smiled into bythose other friendly eyes, became on the spot desperately enamoured;which was very natural, seeing that he had not spoken to a woman underforty for six months, and was himself twenty and a poet. He spent therest of the afternoon shut up in his bedroom, where, refusing allnourishment, he composed a poem in which _berauschten Sinn_ was made torhyme with _Engländerin_, while the elder parson, in whose house helived, thought he was writing his Good Friday sermon. 

Then the schoolmaster was introduced, and then came the two women--theschoolmaster's wife and the parson's wife; and when Anna had smiled andmurmured polite and incoherent little speeches to each in turn, and hadnodded and bowed at least a dozen times to each of these ladies, whocould by no means have done with their curtseys, and had introduced themto the dumb figure in the corner, during which ceremonies Letty staredround-eyed and open-mouthed at the school-children, and theschool-children stared round-eyed and open-mouthed at Letty, and MissLeech looked demure, and Susie's brows were contracted by suffering, shewondered whether she might not now with propriety continue her journey, and if so whether it were expected that she should give the signal. 

Everybody was smiling at everybody else by way of filling up this pauseof hesitation, except Susie, who shut her eyes with great dignity, andshivered in so marked a manner that the parson himself came to therescue, and bade the coachman help him put up the hood again, explainingto Anna as he did so that her _Frau Schwester_ was not used to theclimate. 

Evidently the moment had come for going on, and the bows that had butjust left off began again with renewed vigour. Anna was anxious to saysomething pleasant at the finish, so she asked the parson's wife, as shebade her good-bye, whether she and her husband would come to Kleinwaldethe next day to dinner. 

This invitation produced a very deep curtsey and a flush ofgratification, but the recipient turned to her lord before accepting it, to inquire his pleasure. 

"I fear not to-morrow, gracious Miss, " said the parson, "for it is GoodFriday. "

"_Ach ja_, " stammered Anna, ashamed of herself for having forgotten. 

"_Ach ja_, " exclaimed the parson's wife, still more ashamed of herselffor having forgotten. 

"Perhaps Saturday, then?" suggested Anna. 

The parson murmured something about quiet hours preparatory to theSabbath; but his wife, a person who struck Anna as being quiteextraordinarily stout, was burning with curiosity to examine thoseforeign ladies more conveniently, and especially to see what manner ofbeing would emerge from the pile of fur and feathers in the corner; andshe urged him, in a rapid aside, to do for once without quiet hours. Whereupon he patted her on the cheek, smiled indulgently, and said hewould make an exception and do himself the honour of appearing. 

This being settled, Anna said _Gehen Sie_ to her coachman, who againshowed his intelligence by understanding her; and in a cloud of smilesand bows they drove away, the school-girls making curtseys, theschoolboys taking off their caps, and the parson standing hat in handwith his arm round his wife's waist as serenely as though it had been asummer's day and no one looking. 

Anna became used to these displays of conjugal regard in public lateron; but this first time she turned to Susie with a laugh, when the hoodhad hidden the group from view, and asked her if she had seen it. ButSusie had seen nothing, for her eyes were shut, and she refused toanswer any questions otherwise than by a feeble shake of the head. 

On the other side of the village the _chaussée_ came to an end, and twodeep, sandy roads took its place. There was a sign-post at theirjunction, one arm of which, pointing to the right-hand road that randown close to the sea, had Kleinwalde scrawled on it; and beside thissign-post a man on a horse was waiting for them. 

"Good gracious! More rot?" ejaculated Susie as the carriage stoppedagain, shaken out of the dignity of sulks by these repeated shocks. 

"Oberinspector Dellwig, " said the man, introducing himself, and sweepingoff his hat and bowing lower and more obsequiously than anyone had yetdone. 

"This must be the inspector Uncle Joachim hoped I'd keep, " said Anna inan undertone. 

"I don't care who he is, but for heaven's sake don't let him make aspeech. I can't stand this sort of thing any longer. You'll have me illon your hands if you're not careful, and you won't like _that_, so youhad better stop him. "

"I can't stop him, " said Anna, perplexed. She also had had enough ofspeeches. 

"_Gestatten gnädiges Fräulein dass ich meine gehorsamste Ehrerbietungausspreche_, " began the glib inspector, bowing at every second word overhis horse's ears. 

There was no escape, and they had to hear him out. The man had preparedhis speech, and say it he would. It was not so long as the parson's, butwas quite as flowery in another way, overflowing with respectfulallusions to the deceased master, and with expressions of unboundedloyalty, obedience, and devotion to the new mistress. 

Susie shut her eyes again when she found he was not to be stopped, andgave herself up for lost. What could Hilton, who must be close behindwaiting in the cold, uncomforted by any food since leaving Berlin, thinkof all this? Susie dreaded the moment when she would have to face her. 

The inspector finished all he had intended saying, and then, assuming amore colloquial tone, informed Anna that from the sign-post onward shewould be driving through her own property, and asked permission to rideby her side the rest of the way. So they had his company for the lasttwo miles and his conversation, of which there was much; for he had aready tongue, and explained things to Anna in a very loud voice as theywent along, expatiating on the magnificence of the crops the previoussummer, and assuring her that the crops of the coming summer would beeven more magnificent, for he had invented a combination of manureswhich would give such results that all Pomerania's breath would be takenaway. 

The road here was terrible, and the horses could hardly drag thecarriage through the sand. It lurched and heaved from side to side, creaking and groaning alarmingly. Miss Leech was in imminent peril. Annaheld on with both hands, and hardly had leisure to put in appropriate_achs_ and _jas_ and questions of a becoming intelligence when theinspector paused to take breath. She did not like his looks, and wishedthat she could follow Susie's example and avoid the necessity of seeinghim by the simple expedient of shutting her eyes. But somehow, she didnot quite know how, responsibilities and obligations were suddenlypressing heavily upon her. These people had all made up their minds thatshe was going to be and do certain things; and though she assuredherself that it did not in the least matter how they had made up theirminds, yet she felt obliged to behave in the way that was expected ofher. She did not want to talk to this unpleasant-looking man, and whathe told her about the crops and their marvellousness was halfunintelligible to her and wholly a bore. Yet she did talk to him, andlooked friendly, and affected to understand and be deeply interested inall he said. 

They passed through a plantation of young beeches, planted, Dellwigexplained, by Uncle Joachim on his last visit; and after a few moreyards of lurching in the sand came to some woods and got on to a fairroad. 

"The park, " said Dellwig superbly, with a wave of the hand. 

Susie opened her eyes at the word park, and looked about. "It isn't apark, " she said peevishly, "it's a forest--a horrid, gloomy, dampwilderness. "

"Oh, it's lovely!" cried Letty, giving a jump of delight as she peereddown the serried ranks of pine trees. 

It was a thick wood of pines and beeches, railed off from the road oneither side by wooden rails painted in black and white stripes. UncleJoachim had been the loyalest of Prussians, and his loyalty overflowedeven into his fences. Æsthetic instincts he had none, and if he had beenbrought to see it, would not have cared at all that the railings madethe otherwise beautiful avenue look like the entrance to a restaurant ora railway station. The stripes, renewed every year, and of startlingdistinctness, were an outward and visible sign of his staunch devotionto the King of Prussia, the very lining of the carriage with its whiteand black squares was symbolic; and when they came to the gate withinwhich the house itself stood, two Prussian eagles frowned down at themfrom the gate-posts. 

CHAPTER VI

A low, white, two-storied house, separated from the forest only by acircular grass plot and a ditch with half-melted snow in it and muddywater, a house apparently quite by itself among the creaking pines, neither very old nor very new, with a great many windows, and abrown-tiled roof, was the home bestowed by Uncle Joachim on his dear andonly niece Anna. 

"So _this_ is where I was to lead the better life?" she thought, as thecarriage drew up at the door, and the moaning of the uneasy trees, andall the lonely sounds of a storm-beaten forest replaced the rattling ofthe wheels in her ears. "The better life, then, is a life of uttersolitude, Uncle Joachim thought? I wish I knew--I wish I knew----" Butwhat it was she wished she knew was hardly clear in her mind; and herthoughts were interrupted by a very untidy, surprised-lookingmaid-servant, capless, and in felt slippers, who had darted down thesteps and was unfastening the leather apron and pulling out the rugswith hasty, agitated hands, and trying to pull Susie out as well. 

The doorway was garlanded with evergreen wreaths, over which a green andwhite flag flapped; and curtseying and smiling beneath the wreaths stoodDellwig's wife, a short lady with smooth hair, weather-beaten face, andbrown silk gloves, who would have been the stoutest person Anna had everseen if she had not just come from the presence of the parson's wife. 

"I never saw so many bows in my life, " grumbled Susie, pushing theservant aside, and getting out cautiously, feeling very stiff and coldand miserable. "Letty, you are on my dress--oh, how d'you do--how d'youdo, " she murmured frostily, as the Frau Inspector seized her hand andbegan to talk German to her. "Anna, are you coming? This--er--personthinks I'm you, and is making me a speech. "

Dellwig, who had sent his horse away in charge of a small boy, rapidlyexplained to his wife that the young lady now getting out of thecarriage was their late master's niece, and that the other one must bethe sister-in-law mentioned in the lawyer's letter; upon which FrauDellwig let Susie go, and transferred her smiles and welcome to Anna. Susie went into the house to get out of the cold, only to find herselfin a square hall whose iciness was the intolerable iciness of a place inwhich no sun had been allowed to shine and no windows had been openedfor summers without number. When Uncle Joachim came down he lived in tworooms at the back of the house, with a door leading into the gardenthrough which he went to the farm, and the hall had never been used, andthe closed shutters never opened. There was no fireplace, or stove, orheating arrangement of any sort. Glass doors divided it from an innerand still more spacious hall, with a wide wooden staircase, and doorsall round it. The walls in both halls were painted grass green; and fromlittle chains in the ceiling stuffed hawks and eagles, shot by UncleJoachim, and grown with years very dusty and moth-eaten, hung swingingin the draught. The floor was boarded, and was still damp from a recentscrubbing. There was no carpet. A wooden bracket on the wall, with brasshooks, held a large assortment of whips and hunting crops; and in onecorner stood an arrangement for coats, with Uncle Joachim's variouswaterproofs and head-coverings hanging monumentally on its pegs. 

"Oh, how dreadful!" thought Susie, shivering more violently than ever. "And what a musty smell--it's damp, of course, and I shall be laid up. Poor Hilton! What will she think of this? Oh, how d'you do, " she addedaloud, as a female figure in a white apron suddenly emerged from thegloom and took her hand and kissed it; "Anna, who's this? Anna! Aren'tyou coming? Here's somebody kissing my hand. "

"It's the cook, " said Anna, coming into the inner hall with the others, Dellwig and his wife keeping one on either side of her, and both talkingat once in their anxiety to make a good impression. 

"The cook? Then tell her to give us some food. I shall die if I don'thave something soon. Do you know what time it is? Past four. Can't youget rid of these people? And where's Hilton?"

Susie hardly seemed to see the Dellwigs, and talked to Anna while theywere talking to her as though they did not exist. If Anna felt anobligation to be polite to these different persons she felt none at all. They did not understand English, but if they had it would not havemattered to her, and she would have gone on talking about them as thoughthey had not been there. 

Both the Dellwigs had very loud voices, so Susie had to raise hers inorder to be heard, and there was consequently such a noise in the empty, echoing house, that after looking round bewildered, and trying to answereverybody at once, Anna gave it up, and stood and laughed. 

"I don't see anything to laugh at, " said Susie crossly, "we are allstarving, and these people won't go. "

"But how can I make them go?"

"They're your servants, I suppose. I should just say that I'd send forthem when I wanted them. "

"They'd be very much astonished. The man is so far from being my servantthat I believe he means to be my master. "

The two Dellwigs, perplexed by Anna's laughter when nobody had saidanything amusing, and uneasy lest she should be laughing at somethingabout themselves, looked from her to Susie suspiciously, and for thatbrief moment were quiet. 

"_Wir sind hungrig_, " said Anna to the wife. 

"The food comes immediately, " she replied; and hastened away with thecook and the other servant through a door evidently leading to thekitchen. 

"_Und kalt_, " continued Anna plaintively to the husband, who at onceflung open another door, through which they saw a table spread fordinner. "_Bitte, bitte_, " he said, ushering them in as though the placebelonged to him. 

"Does this person live in the house?" inquired Susie, eying him withlittle goodwill. 

"He told me he lives at the farm. But of course he has always lookedafter everything here. "

When they were all in the dining-room, driven in by Dellwig, as Susieremarked, like a flock of sheep by a shepherd determined to stand nononsense, he helped them with officious politeness to take off theirwraps, and then, bowing almost to the ground, asked permission towithdraw while the _Herrschaften_ ate, a permission that was given withalacrity, Anna's face falling, however, upon his informing her that hewould come round later on in order to lay his plans for the summerbefore her. 

"What does he say?" asked Susie, as the door shut behind him. 

"He's coming round again later on. "

"That man's going to be a nuisance--you see if he isn't, " said Susiewith conviction. 

"I believe he is, " agreed Anna, going over to the white porcelain stoveto warm her hands. 

"He's the limpet, and you're going to be the rock. Don't let him fleeceyou too much. "

"But limpets don't fleece rocks, " said Anna. 

"He wouldn't be able to fleece me, _I_ know, if I could talk German aswell as you do. But you'll be soft and weak and amiable, and he'll do ashe likes with you. "

"Soft, and weak, and amiable!" repeated Anna, smiling at Susie'sadjectives, "why, I thought I was obstinate--you always said I was. "

"So you are. But you won't be to that man. He'll get round you. "

"Uncle Joachim said he was excellent. "

"Oh, I daresay he wasn't bad with a man over him who knew all aboutfarming, but mark my words, _you_ won't get two thousand a year out ofthe place. "

Anna was silent. Susie was invariably shrewd and sensible, if inclined, Anna thought, to be over suspicious, in matters where money wasconcerned. Dellwig's face was not one to inspire confidence: and his wayof shouting when he talked, and of talking incessantly, was alreadyintolerable to her. She was not sure, either, that his wife was any moresatisfactory. She too shouted, and Anna detested noise. The wife did notappear again, and had evidently gone home with her husband, for a greatsilence had fallen upon the house, broken only by the monotonous sighingof the forest, and the pattering of rain against the window. 

The dining-room was a long narrow room, with one big window forming itswest end looking out on to the grass plot, the ditch, and the gate-postswith the eagles on them. It was a study in chocolate--brown paper, browncarpet, brown rep curtains, brown cane chairs. There were two woodensideboards painted brown facing each other down at the dark end, with acollection of miscellaneous articles on them: a vinegar cruet that hadstood there for years, with remains of vinegar dried up at the bottom;mustard pots containing a dark and wicked mixture that had once beenmustard; a broken hand-bell used at long-past dinners, to summonservants long since dead; an old wine register with entries in it of aquarter of a century back; a mouldy bottle of Worcester sauce, stillboasting on its label that it would impart a relish to viands otherwisedull; and some charming Dresden china fruit-dishes, adorned withcheerful shepherds and shepherdesses, incurable optimists, persistentlypleased with themselves and their surroundings through all the days andnights of all the cold silent years that they had been smiling at eachother in the dark. On the round dinner-table was a pot of lilies of thevalley, enveloped in crinkly pink tissue paper tied round with pinksatin ribbon, with ears of the paper drawn up between the flower-stalksto produce a pleasing contrast of pink and white. 

"Well, it's warm enough here, isn't it?" said Susie, going round theroom and examining these things with an interest far exceeding thatcalled forth by the art treasures of Berlin. 

"Rather, " said Letty, answering for everybody, and rubbing her hands. She frolicked about the room, peeping into all the corners, opening thecupboards, trying the sofa, and behaving in so frisky a fashion that hermother, who seldom saw her at home, and knew her only as a naughtygloomy girl, turned once or twice from the interesting sideboards tostare at her inquiringly through her lorgnette. 

The servant with the surprised eyebrows, who presently brought in thesoup, had put on a pair of white cotton gloves for the ceremony ofwaiting, but still wore her felt slippers. She put the plates in a pileon the edge of the table, murmured something in German, and ran outagain; nor did she come back till she brought the next course, when shebehaved in a precisely similar manner, and continued to do so throughoutthe meal; the diners, having no bell, being obliged to sit patientlyduring the intervals, until she thought that they might perhaps be readyfor some more. 

It was an odd meal, and began with cold chocolate soup with frothy whitethings that tasted of vanilla floating about in it. Susie was so muchinterested in this soup that she forgot all about Hilton, who had beendriven ignominiously to the back door and was left sitting in thekitchen till the two servants should have time to take her upstairs, andwas employing the time composing a speech of a spirited nature in whichshe intended giving her mistress notice the moment she saw her again. 

Her mistress meanwhile was meditatively turning over the vanilla ballsin her soup. "Well, I don't like it, " she said at last, laying down herspoon. 

"Oh, it's ripping!" cried her daughter ecstatically. "It's like havingone's pudding at the other end. "

"How can you look at chocolate after Berlin, greedy girl?" asked hermother, disgusted by her child's obvious tendency towards a too freeindulgence in the pleasures of the table. But Letty was feeling sojovial that in the face of this question she boldly asked for more--arequest that was refused indignantly and at once. 

There was such a long pause after the soup that in their hunger theybegan to eat the stewed apples and bottled cherries that were on thetable. The brown bread, arranged in thin slices on a white crochet matin a japanned dish, felt so damp and was so full of caraway seeds thatit was uneatable. After a while some roach, caught on the estate, andwith a strong muddy flavour and bewildering multitudes of bones, wasbrought in; and after that came cutlets from Anna's pigs; and after thata queer red gelatinous pudding that tasted of physic; and after that, the meal being evidently at an end, Susie, who was very hungry, remarkedthat if all the food were going to be like those specimens they hadbetter return at once to England, or they would certainly be starved. "It's a good thing you are not going to stay here, Anna, " she said, "foryou'd have to make a tremendous fuss before you'd get them to leave offtreating you like a pig. Look here--teaspoons to eat the pudding with, and the same fork all the way through. It's a beastly hole"--Letty'seyebrows telegraphed triumphantly across to Miss Leech, "Well, did youhear that?"--"and we ought to have stayed in Berlin. There was nothingto be gained at all by coming here. "

"Perhaps the dinner to-night will be better, " said Anna, trying tocomfort her, and little knowing that they had just eaten the dinner; butpeople who are hungry are surprisingly impervious to the influence offair words. "It couldn't be worse, anyhow, so it really will probably bebetter. I'm very glad though that we did come, for I like it. "

"Oh, yes, so do I, Aunt Anna!" cried Letty. "It's frightfully nice. It'slike a picnic that doesn't leave off. When are we going over the house, and out into the garden? I do so want to go--oh, I do so want to go!"And she jumped up and down impatiently on her chair, till her ardour waspartially quenched by her mother's forbidding her to go out of doors inthe rain. "Well, let's go over the house, then, " said Letty, dying toexplore. 

"Oh, yes, you may go over the house, " said her mother with a shrug ofdispleasure; though why she should be displeased it would have puzzledanyone who had dined satisfactorily to explain. Then she suddenlyremembered Hilton, and with an exclamation started off in search of her. 

The others put on their furs before going into the Arctic atmosphere ofthe hall, and began to explore, spending the next hour very pleasantlyrambling all over the house, while Susie, who had found Hilton, remainedshut up in the bedroom allotted her till supper time. 

The cook showed Anna her bedroom, and when she had gone, Anna gave onelook round at the evergreen wreaths with which it was decorated andwhich filled it with a pungent, baked smell, and then ran out to seewhat her house was like. Her heart was full of pride and happiness asshe wandered about the rooms and passages. The magic word _mine_ rang inher ears, and gave each piece of furniture a charm so ridiculously greatthat she would not have told any one of it for the world. She took upthe different irrelevant ornaments that were scattered through therooms, collected as such things do collect, nobody knew when or why, andshe put them down again somewhere else, only because she had the rightto alter things and she loved to remind herself of it. She patted thewalls and the tables as she passed; she smoothed down the folds of thecurtains with tender touches; she went up to every separatelooking-glass and stood in front of it a moment, so that there should benone that had not reflected the image of its mistress. She was sochildishly delighted with her scanty possessions that she was thankfulSusie remained invisible and did not come out and scoff. 

What if it seemed an odd, bare place to eyes used to the superfluity ofhangings and stuffings that prevailed at Estcourt? These bare boards, these shabby little mats by the side of the beds, the worn foxes' skinsbefore the writing-tables, the cane or wooden chairs, the white calicocurtains with meek cotton fringes, the queer little prints on the walls, the painted wooden bedsteads, seemed to her in their very poorness andunpretentiousness to be emblematical of all the virtues. As she lingeredin the quiet rooms, while Letty raced along the passages, Anna said toherself that this Spartan simplicity, this absence of every luxury thatcould still further soften an already languid and effeminate soul, wasbeautiful. Here, as in the whitewashed praying-places of the Puritans, if there were any beauty and any glory it must all come from within, beall of the spirit, be only the beauty of a clean life and the glory ofkind thoughts. She pictured herself waking up in one of those unadornedbeds with the morning sun shining on her face, and rising to go herdaily round of usefulness in her quiet house, where there would be noquarrels, and no pitiful ambitions, and none of those many bitterheartaches that need never be. Would they not be happy days, those daysof simple duties? "The better life--the better life, " she repeatedmusingly, standing in the middle of the big room through whose tallwindows she could see the garden, and a strip of marshy land, and thenthe grey sea and the white of the gulls and the dark line of the Rügencoast over which the dusk was gathering; and she counted on her fingersmechanically, "Simplicity, frugality, hard work. Uncle Joachim said_that_ was the better life, and he was wise--oh, he was very wise--butstill----And he loved me, and understood me, but still----"

Looking up she caught sight of herself in a long glass opposite, a slimfigure in a fur cloak, with bare head and pensive eyes, lost inreflection. It reminded her of the day the letter came, when she stoodbefore the glass in her London bedroom dressed for dinner, with thatsame sentence of his persistently in her ears, and how she had not beenable to imagine herself leading the life it described. Now, in hertravelling dress, pale and tired and subdued after the long journey, shorn of every grace of clothes and curls, she criticised her ownfatuity in having held herself to be of too fine a clay, too delicate, too fragile, for a life that might be rough. "Oh, vain and foolish one!"she said aloud, apostrophising the figure in the glass with the familiar_Du_ of the days before her mother died, "Art thou then so much betterthan others, that thou must for ever be only ornamental and an expense?Canst thou not live, except in luxury? Or walk, except on carpets? Oreat, except thy soup be not of chocolate? Go to the ants, thou sluggard;consider their ways, and be wise. " And she wrapped herself in her cloak, and frowned defiance at that other girl. 

She was standing scowling at herself with great disapproval when thehousemaid, who had been searching for her everywhere, came to tell herthat the Herr Oberinspector was downstairs, and had sent up to know ifhis visit were convenient. 

It was not at all convenient; and Anna thought that he might have sparedher this first evening at least. But she supposed that she must go downto him, feeling somehow unequal to sending so authoritative a personaway. 

She found him standing in the inner hall with a portfolio under his arm. He was blowing his nose, making a sound like the blast of a trumpet, andwaking the echoes. Not even that could he do quietly, she thought, hernew sense of proprietorship oddly irritated by a nose being blown soaggressively in her house. Besides, they were her echoes that he wasdisturbing. She smiled at her own childishness. 

She greeted him kindly, however, in response to his elaborateobeisances, and shook hands on seeing that he expected to be shakenhands with, though she had done so twice already that afternoon; andthen she let herself be ushered by him into the drawing-room, a room onthe garden side of the house, with French windows, and bookshelves, anda huge round polished table in the middle. 

It had been one of the two rooms used by Uncle Joachim, and was full oftraces of his visits. She sat down at a big writing-table with a greencloth top, her feet plunged in the long matted hairs of a grey rug, andrequested Dellwig to sit down near her, which he did, sayingapologetically, "I will be so free. "

The servant, Marie, brought in a lamp with a green shade, shut theshutters, and went out again on tiptoe; and Anna settled herself tolisten with what patience she could to the loud voice that jarred so onher nerves, fortifying herself with reminders that it was her duty, andreally taking pains to understand him. Nor did she say a word, as shehad done to the lawyer, that might lead him to suppose she did notintend living there. 

But Dellwig's ceaseless flow of talk soon wearied her to such an extentthat she found steady attention impossible. To understand the mere wordswas in itself an effort, and she had not yet learned the German for ryeand oats and the rest, and it was of these that he chiefly talked. Whatwas the use of explaining to her in what way he had ploughed and manuredand sown certain fields, how they lay, how big they were, and what theirsoil was, when she had not seen them? Did he imagine that she could keepall these figures and details in her head? "I know nothing of farming, "she said at last, "and shall understand your plans better when I haveseen the estate. "

"_Natürlich, natürlich_, " shouted Dellwig, his voice in strangestcontrast to hers, which was particularly sweet and gentle. "Here I havea map--does the gracious Miss permit that I show it?"

The gracious Miss inclined her tired head, and he unrolled it and spreadit out on the table, pointing with his fat forefinger as he explainedthe boundaries, and the divisions into forest, pasture, and arable. 

"It seems to be nearly all forest, " said Anna. 

"Forest! The forest covers two-thirds of the estate. It is the onlyforest on the entire promontory. Such care as I have bestowed on theforest has seldom been seen. It is _grossartig--colossal_!" And helifted his hands the better to express his admiration, and was about togo into lengthy raptures when the map rolled itself up again with loudcracklings, and cut him short. He spread it out once more, and securingits corners began to describe the effects of the various sorts ofartificial manure on the different crops, his cleverness in combiningthem, and his latest triumphant discovery of the superlative mixturethat was to strike all Pomerania with awe. 

"_Ja_, " said Anna, balancing a paper-knife on one finger, and profoundlybored. "Whose land is that next to mine?" she asked, pointing. 

"The land on the north and west belongs to peasants, " said Dellwig. "Onthe east is the sea. On the south it is all Lohm. The gracious onepassed through the village of Lohm this afternoon. "

"The village where the school is?"

"Quite correct. The pastor, Herr Manske, a worthy man, but, like allpastors, taking ells when he is offered inches, serves both that churchand the little one in Kleinwalde village, of which the gracious Miss ispatroness. Herr von Lohm, who lives in the house standing back from theroad, and perhaps noticed by the gracious Miss, is Amtsvorsteher in bothvillages. "

"What is Amtsvorsteher?" asked Anna, languidly. She was leaning back inher chair, idly balancing the paper-knife, and listening with half anear only to Dellwig, throwing in questions every now and then when shethought she ought to say something. She did not look at him, preferringmuch to look at the paper-knife, and he could examine her face at hisease in the shadow of the lamp-shade, her dark eyelashes lowered, herprofile only turned to him, with its delicate line of brow and nose, andthe soft and gracious curves of the mouth and chin and throat. One handlay on the table in the circle of light, a slender, beautiful hand, fullof character and energy, and the other hung listlessly over the arm ofthe chair. Anna was very tired, and showed it in every line of herattitude; but Dellwig was not tired at all, was used to talking, enjoyedat all times the sound of his voice, and on this occasion felt it to behis duty to make things clear. So he went into the lengthiest details asto the nature and office of Amtsvorstehers, details that were perfectlyincomprehensible and wholly indifferent to Anna, and spared neitherhimself nor her. While he talked, however, he was criticising her, comparing the laziness of her attitude with the brisk and respectfulalertness of other women when he talked. He knew that these other womenbelonged to a different class; his wife, the parson's wife, the wives ofthe inspectors on other estates, these were not, of course, in the samesphere as the new mistress of Kleinwalde; but she was only a woman, anddress up a woman as you will, call her by what name you will, she isnothing but a woman, born to help and serve, never by any possibilityeven equal to a clever man like himself. Old Joachim might have loungedas he chose, and put his feet on the table if it had seemed good to him, and Dellwig would have accepted it with unquestioning respect as aneccentricity of _Herrschaften_; but a woman had no sort of right, hesaid to himself, while he so fluently discoursed, to let herself go inthe presence of her natural superior. Unfortunately, old Joachim, solevel-headed an old gentleman in all other respects, had placed thepower over his fortunes in the hands of this weak female leaning back sounbecomingly in her chair, playing with the objects on the table, neverraising her eyes to his, and showing indeed, incredible as it seemed, every symptom of thinking of something else. The women of hisacquaintance were, he was certain, worth individually fifty suchaffected, indifferent young ladies. They worked early and late to maketheir husbands comfortable; they were well practised in every artrequired of women living in the country; they were models of thrift anddiligence; yet, with all their virtues and all their accomplishments, they never dreamed of lounging or not listening when a man was speaking, but sat attentively on the edge of their chairs, straight in the backand seemly, and when he had finished said _Jawohl_. 

Anna certainly did sit very much at her ease, and instead of attending, as she ought to have done, to his description of Amtsvorstehers, wasthinking of other things. Dellwig had thick lips that could not behidden entirely by his grizzled moustache and beard, and he had the sortof eyes known to the inelegant but truthful as fishy, and a bigobstinate nose, and a narrow obstinate forehead, and a long body andshort legs; and though all this, Anna told herself, was not in the leasthis fault and should not in any way prejudice her against him, she feltthat she was justified in wishing that his manners were less offensive, less boastful and boisterous, and that he did not bite his nails. "Iwonder, " she thought, her eyes carefully fixed on the paper-knife, butconscious of his every look and movement, "I wonder if he is as artfulas he looks. Surely Uncle Joachim must have known what he was like, andwould never have told me to keep him if he had not been honest. Perhapshe is perfectly honest, and when I meet him in heaven how ashamed Ishall be of myself for having had doubts!" And then she fell to musingon what sort of an appearance a chastened and angelic Dellwig wouldprobably present, and looked up suddenly at him with new interest. 

"I trust I have made myself comprehensible?" he was asking, having justcome to the end of what he felt was a masterly _résumé_ of Herr vonLohm's duties. 

"I beg your pardon?" said Anna, bringing her thoughts back withdifficulty from the consideration of nimbuses, "Oh, aboutAmtsvorstehers--no, " she said, shaking her head, "you have not. But thatis my fault. I can't understand everything at once. I shall do betterlater on. "

"_Natürlich, natürlich_, " Dellwig vehemently assured her, while he madeinward comments on the innate incapacity of all _Weiber_, as he calledthem, to grasp the simplest fact connected with law and justice. 

"Tell me about the livestock, " said Anna, remembering Uncle Joachim'sfrequent and affectionate allusions to his swine. "Are there many pigs?"

"Pigs?" repeated Dellwig, lifting up his hands as though mere words wereinsufficient to express his feelings, "such pigs as the gracious Missnow possesses are nowhere else to be found in Pomerania. They are thepride, and at the same time the envy, of the whole province. 'Let mysausages, ' said the Herr Landrath last winter, when the time for killingdrew near, 'let my sausages consist solely of the pigs reared atKleinwalde by my friend the Oberinspector Dellwig. ' The Frau Landräthinwas deeply injured, for she too breeds and fattens pigs, but not likeours--not like ours. "

"Who is the Herr Landrath?" asked Anna absently; but immediatelyremembering the description of the Amtsvorsteher she added quickly, "Never mind--don't explain. I suppose he is some sort of an official, and I shall not be quite clear about these different officials till Ihave lived here some time. "

"_Natürlich, natürlich_, " agreed Dellwig; and leaving the Landrathunexplained he launched forth into a dissertation on Anna's pigs, whoseexcellencies, it appeared, were wholly due to the unrivalled skill hehad for years displayed in their treatment. "I have no children, " hesaid, with a resigned and pious upward glance, "and my wife's maternalinstincts find their satisfaction in tending and fattening these fineanimals. She cannot listen to their cries the day they are killed, andwithdraws into the cellar, where she prepares the stuffing. The graciousMiss ate the cutlets of one this very day. It was killed on purpose. "

"Was it? I wish it hadn't been, " said Anna, frowning at the remembranceof that meal. "I--I don't want things killed on my account. I--don'tlike pig. "

"Not like pig?" echoed Dellwig, dropping his lower jaw in his amazement. "Did I understand aright that the gracious one does not eat pig's fleshgladly? And my wife and I who thought to prepare a joy for her!" Heclasped his hands together and stared at her in dismay. Indeed, he wasso much overcome by this extraordinary and wilful spurning of nature'sbest gifts that for a moment he was silent, and knew not how he shouldproceed. Were there not concentrated in the body of a single pig agreater diversity of joys than in any other form of pleasure that hecould call to mind? Did it not include, besides the profounder delightsof its roasted ribs, such solid satisfactions as hams, sausages, andbacon? Did not its liver, discreetly manipulated, rival the livers ofStrasburg geese in delicacy? Were not its brains a source of mutualcongratulation to an entire family at supper? Did not its very snout, boiled with peas, make an otherwise inferior soup delicious? The ribs ofthis particular pig were reposing at that moment in a cool place, carefully shielded from harm by his wife, reserved for the Easter Sundaydinner of their new mistress, who, having begun at her first meal withthe lesser joys of cutlets, was to be fed with different parts in theorder of their excellence till the climax of rejoicing was reached onEaster Day in the dish of _Schweinebraten_, and who was now declaring, in a die-away, affected sort of voice, that she did not want to eat pigat all. Where, then, was her vulnerable point? How would he ever be ableto touch her, to influence her, if she was indifferent to the chiefmeans of happiness known to the dwellers in those parts? That was thereal aim and end of his labours, of the labours, as far as he could see, of everyone else--to make as much money as possible in order to live aswell as possible; and what did living well mean if it did not mean thebest food? And what was the best food if not pig? Not to be killed onher account! On whose account, then, could they be killed? With an owneralways about the place, and refusing to have pigs killed, how would heand his wife be able to indulge, with satisfactory frequency, in theirfavourite food, or offer it to their expectant friends on Sundays? Hemourned old Joachim, who so seldom came down, and when he did ate hisshare of pork like a man, more sincerely at that moment than he wouldhave thought possible. "_Mein seliger Herr_, " he burst out brokenly, completely upset by the difference between uncle and niece, "_meinseliger Herr_----" And then, unable to go on, fell to blowing his nosewith violence, for there were real tears in his eyes. 

Anna looked up, surprised. She thought he had been speaking of pigs, andhere he was on a sudden bewailing his late master. When she saw thetears she was deeply touched. "Poor man, " she said to herself, "howunjust I have been. Of course he loved dear Uncle Joachim; and my cominghere, an utter stranger, taking possession of everything, must be verydreadful for him. " She got up, at once anxious, as she always was, tocomfort and soothe anyone who was sad, and put her hand gently on hisarm. "I loved him too, " she said softly, "and you who knew him so longmust feel his death dreadfully. We will try and keep everything just ashe would have liked it, won't we? You know what his wishes were, andmust help me to carry them out. You cannot have loved him more than Idid--dear Uncle Joachim!"

She felt very near tears herself, and condoned the sonorous nose-blowingas the expression of an honourable emotion. 

And Dellwig, when he presently reached his home and was met at the doorby his wife's eager "Well, how was she?" laconically replied "Mad. "

CHAPTER VII

When Anna woke next morning she had a confused idea that somethingannoying had happened the evening before, but she had slept so heavilythat she could not at once recollect what it was. Then, the sun on herface waking her up more thoroughly, she remembered that Susie had stayedupstairs with Hilton till supper time, had then come down, glanced withunutterable disgust at the raw ham, cold sausage, eggs, and tepid coffeeof which the evening meal was composed, refused to eat, refused tospeak, refused utterly to smile, and afterwards in the drawing-room hadannounced her fixed intention of returning to England the next day. 

Anna had protested and argued in vain; nothing could shake this suddendetermination. To all her expostulations and entreaties Susie repliedthat she had never yet dwelt among savages and she was not going tobegin now; so Anna was forced to conclude that Hilton had been making ascene, and knowing the effect of Hilton's scenes she gave up attemptingto persuade, but told her with outward firmness and inward quakings thatshe herself could not possibly go too. 

Susie had been very angry at this, and still more angry at the reasonAnna gave, which was that, having invited the parson and his wife todinner on Saturday, she could not break her engagement. Susie told herthat as she would never see either of them again--for surely she wouldnever again want to come to this place?--it was absurd to care twopencewhat they thought of her. What on earth did it matter if two inhabitantsof the desert were offended or not offended once she was on the otherside of the sea? And what did it matter at all how she treated them? Sheheaped such epithets as absurd, stupid, and idiotic on Anna's head, butAnna was not to be moved. She threatened to take Miss Leech and Lettyaway with her, and leave Anna a prey to the criticisms of Mrs. Grundy, and Anna said she could not prevent her doing so if she chose. Susiebecame more and more excited, more and more Dobbs, goaded by therecollection of what she had gone through with Hilton, and Anna, asusual under such circumstances, grew very silent. Letty sat listening inan agony of fright lest this cup of new experiences were about to bedashed prematurely from her eager lips; and Miss Leech discreetly leftthe room, though not in the least knowing where to go, finally seekingto drive away the nervous fears that assailed her in her lonely, creaking bedroom, where rats were gnawing at the woodwork, by thinkinghard of Mr. Jessup, who on this occasion proved to be but a broken reed, pitted against the stern reality of rats. 

The end of it, after Susie had poured out the customary reproaches ofgross ingratitude and forgetfulness of all she had done for Anna forfifteen long years, was that Miss Leech and Letty were to stay on asoriginally intended, and come home with Anna towards the end of theholidays, and Susie would leave with Hilton the very next day. 

Anna's attempt to make it up when she said good-night was repulsed withenergy. Anna was for ever doing aggravating things, and then wanting tomake it up; but makings up without having given in an inch seemed toSusie singularly unsatisfactory ceremonies. Oh, these Estcourts andtheir obstinacy! She marched off to bed in high indignation, anindignation not by any means allowed to cool by Hilton during theprocess of undressing; and Anna, worn out, fell asleep the moment shelay down, and woke up, as she had pictured herself doing in that oddwooden bed, with the morning sun shining full on her face. 

It was a bright and lovely day, and on the side of the house where sheslept she could not hear the wind, which was still blowing from thenorth-west. She opened one of her three big windows and let the cold airrush into her room, where the curious perfume of the baked evergreenwreaths festooned round the walls and looking-glass and dressing-table, joined to the heat from the stove, produced a heavy atmosphere that madeher gasp. Somebody must already have been in her room, for the stove hadbeen lit again, and she could see the peat blazing inside its open door. But outside, what a divine coldness and purity! She leaned out, drinkingit in in long breaths, the warm March sun shining on her head. Thegarden, a mere uncared-for piece of rough grass with big trees, wasradiant with rain-drops; the strip of sea was a deep blue now, withcrests of foam; the island coast opposite was a shadowy streak stretchedacross the feet of the sun. Oh, it was beautiful to stand at that openwindow in the freshness, listening to the robin on the bare lilac bush afew yards away, to the quarrelling of the impudent sparrows on the pathbelow, to the wind in the branches of the trees, to all the happymorning sounds of nature. A joyous feeling took possession of her heart, a sudden overpowering delight in what are called common things--mereearth, sky, sun, and wind. How lovely life was on such a morning, insuch a clean, rain-washed, wind-scoured world. The wet smell of thegarden came up to her, a whiff of marshy smell from the water, a longbreath from the pines in the forest on the other side of the house. Howhad she ever breathed at Estcourt? How had she escaped suffocationwithout this life-giving smell of sea and forest? She looked down withdelight at the wildness of the garden; after the trim Estcourt lawns, what a relief this was. This was all liberty, freedom fromconventionality, absolute privacy; that was an everlasting clipping, andtrimming, and raking, a perpetual stumbling upon gardeners at everystep, for Susie would not be outdone by her greater neighbours in thesematters. What was Hill Street looking like this fine March morning? Allthe blinds down, all the people in bed--how far away, how shadowy itwas; a street inhabited by sleepy ghosts, with phantom milkmen rattlingspectral cans beneath their windows. What a dream that life lived up tothree days ago seemed in this morning light of reality. White clouds, like the clouds in Raphael's backgrounds, were floating so high overheadthat they could not be hurried by the wind; a black cat sat in a patchof sunshine on the path washing itself; somebody opened a lower window, and there was a noise of sweeping, presently made indistinguishable bythe chorale sung by the sweeper, no doubt Marie, in a pious, Good Fridaymood. "_Lob Gott ihr Christen allzugleich_, " chanted Marie, keeping timewith her broom. Her voice was loud and monotonous, but Anna listenedwith a smile, and would have liked to join in, and so let some of herhappiness find its way out. 

She dressed quickly. There was no hot water, and no bell to ring forsome, and she did not choose to call down from the window and interruptthe hymn, so she used cold water, assuring herself that it was bracing. Then she put on her hat and coat and stole out, afraid of disturbingSusie, who was lying a few yards away filled with smouldering wrath, anxious to have at least one quiet hour before beginning a day that shefelt sure was going to be a day of worries. "There will be great peaceto-night when she is gone, " she thought, and immediately felt ashamedthat she should look forward to being without her. "But I have neverbeen without her since I was ten, " she explained apologetically to heroffended conscience, "and I want to see how I feel. "

"_Guten Morgen_, " said Marie, as Anna came into the drawing-room on herway out through its French windows. 

"_Guten Morgen_, " said Anna cheerfully. 

Marie leaned on her broom and watched her go down the garden, greedilytaking in every detail of her clothes, profoundly interested in a beingwho went out into the mud where nobody could see her with such a dresson, and whose shoes would not have been too big for Marie's small sisteraged nine. 

The evening before, indeed, Marie had beheld such a vision as she hadnever yet in her life seen, or so much as imagined; her new mistress hadappeared at supper in what was evidently a _herrschaftliche Ballkleid_, with naked arms and shoulders, and the other ladies were attired in muchthe same way. The young Fräulein, it is true, showed no bare flesh, buteven she was arrayed in white, and her hair magnificently tied up withribbons. Marie had rushed out to tell the cook, and the cook, refusingto believe it, had carried in a supererogatory dish of compot as anexcuse for securing the assurance of her own eyes; and Bertha from thefarm, coming round with a message from the Frau Oberinspector, had seenit too through the crack of the kitchen door as the ladies left thedining-room, and had gone off breathlessly to spread the news; and thepost cart just leaving with the letters had carried it to Lohm, andevery inhabitant of every house between Kleinwalde and Stralsund knewall about it before bedtime. "What did I tell thee, wife?" said Dellwig, who, in spite of his superiority to the sex that served, listened aseagerly as any member of it to gossip; and his wife was only too readyto label Anna mad or eccentric as a slight private consolation forhaving passed out of the service of a comprehensible German gentlemaninto that of a woman and a foreigner. 

Unconscious of the interest and curiosity she was exciting for milesround, pleased by Marie's artless piety, and filled with kindly feelingstowards all her neighbours, Anna stood at the end of the garden lookingover the low hedge that divided it from the marsh and the sea, andthought that she had never seen a place where it would be so easy to begood. Complete freedom from the wearisome obligations of society, anideal privacy surrounded by her woods and the water, a scanty populationof simple and devoted people--did not Dellwig shed tears at theremembrance of his master?--every day spent here would be a day thatmade her better, that would bring her nearer to that heaven in which allgood and simple souls dwelt while still on earth, the heaven of a sereneand quiet mind. Always she had longed to be good, and to help andbefriend those who had the same longing but in whom it had beenpartially crushed by want of opportunity and want of peace. The healthygoodness that goes hand in hand with happiness was what she meant; notthat tragic and futile goodness that grows out of grief, that lifts itshead miserably in stony places, that flourishes in sick rooms and amongdesperate sorrows, and goes to God only because all else is lost. Shewent round the house and crossed the road into the forest. The freshwind blew in her face, and shook down the drops from the branches on heras she passed. The pine needles of other years made a thick carpet forher feet. The sun gleamed through the straight trunks and warmed her. The restless sighing overheard in the tree tops filled her ears withsweetest music. "I do believe the place is pleased that I have come!"she thought, with a happy laugh. She came to a clearing in the trees, opening out towards the north, and she could see the flat fields and thewide sky and the sunshine chasing the shadows across the vivid greenpatches that she had learned were winter rye. A hole at her feet, wherea tree had been uprooted, still had snow in it; but the larks weresinging above in the blue, as though from those high places they couldsee Spring far away in the south, coming up slowly with the firstanemones in her hands, her face turned at last towards the patientnorth. 

The strangest feeling of being for the first time in her life at homecame over Anna. This poor country, how sweet and touching it was. Afterthe English country, with its thickly scattered villages, and gardens, and fields that looked like parks, it did seem very poor and very empty, but intensely lovable. Like the furniture of her house, it struck her assymbolic in its bareness of the sturdier virtues. The people who livedin it must of necessity be frugal and hard-working if they would live atall, wresting by sheer labour their life from the soil, braced by thelong winters to endurance and self-denial, their vices and theirlanguors frozen out of them whether they would or no. At least sothought Anna, as she stood gazing out across the clearing at the fieldsand sky. "Could one not be good here? Could one not be so, so good?" shekept on murmuring. Then she remembered that she had been asking herselfvague questions like this ever since her arrival; and with a suddendetermination to face what was in her mind and think it out honestly, she sat down on a tree stump, buttoned her coat up tight, for the windwas blowing full on her, and fell to considering what she meant to do. 

 * * * * *

Susie did not go down to breakfast, but stayed in her bedroom on thesofa drinking a glass of milk into which an egg had been beaten, andlistening to Hilton's criticisms of the German nation, delivered withmuch venom while she packed. But Hilton, though her contempt for Germanways was so great as to be almost unutterable, was reconciled to amistress who had so quickly given in to her wish to be taken back toHill Street, and the venom was of an abstract nature, containing nopersonal sting of unfavourable comparisons with duchesses; so that Susiewas sipping her milk in a fairly placid frame of mind when there was aknock at the door, and Anna asked if she might come in. 

"Oh, yes, come in. Have you looked out the trains?"

"Yes. There's only one decent one, and you'll have to leave directlyafter luncheon. Won't you stay, Susie? You'll be so tired, going homewithout resting. "

"Can't we leave before luncheon?"

"Yes, of course, if you prefer to lunch at Stralsund. "

"Much. Have you ordered the shandrydan?"

"Yes, for half-past one. "

"Then order it for half-past twelve. Hilton can drive with me. "

"So I thought. "

"Has that wretch been rubbing fish oil on it again?"

"I don't think so, after what I said yesterday. "

"I shouldn't think what you said yesterday could have frightened himmuch. You beamed at him as though he were your best friend. "

"Did I?"

Anna was looking odd, Susie thought, and answering her remarks with anervous, abstracted air. She had apparently been out, for her dress wasmuddy, and she was quite rosy, and her hair was not so neat as usual. She stood about in an undecided sort of way, and glanced several timesat Hilton on her knees before a trunk. 

"Is that all the breakfast you are going to have?" she asked, becomingaware of the glass of milk. 

"What other breakfast is there to have?" snapped Susie, who was hungry, and would have liked a great deal more. 

"Well, the eggs and butter are very nice, anyway, " said Anna, quiteevidently thinking of other things. 

"Now what has she got into her head?" Susie asked herself, watching hersister-in-law with misgiving. Anna's new moods were never by any chanceof a sort to give Susie pleasure. Aloud she said tartly, "I can't eateggs and butter by themselves. I shouldn't have had anything at all ifit hadn't been for Hilton, who went into the kitchen and made me thisherself. "

"Excellent Hilton, " said Anna absently. "Haven't you done packing yet, Hilton?"

"No, m'm. "

Anna sat down on the end of the sofa and began to twist the frills ofSusie's dressing-gown round her fingers. 

"I haven't closed my eyes all night, " said Susie, putting on her martyrlook, "nor has Hilton. "

"Haven't you? Why not? I slept the sleep of the just--better, indeed, than any just that I ever heard of. "

"What, didn't that man go into your room?"

"What man? Oh, yes, Miss Leech was telling me about it. He lit thestoves, didn't he? I never heard a sound. "

"You must have slept like a log then. Any one in the least sensitivewould have been frightened out of their senses. I was, and so wasHilton. I wouldn't spend another night in this house for anything youcould give me. "

It appeared that Susie really had just cause for complaint. She had beennervous the night before after Hilton had left her, unable to sleep, andscared by the thought of their defencelessness--six women alone in thatwild place. She wished then with all her heart that Dellwig did live inthe house. Rats scampering about in the attic above added to herterrors. The wind shook the windows of her room and howleddisconsolately up and down. She bore it as long as she could, which waslonger than most women would have borne it, and then knocked on the walldividing her room from Hilton's. But Hilton, with the bedclothes overher head and all the candles she had been able to collect alight, wouldnot have stirred out of her room to save her mistress from dying; andSusie, desperate at the prospect of the awful hours round midnight, madeone great effort of courage and sallied out to fetch her. Poor Susie, standing shivering before her maid's bolted door, scantily clothed, anxiously watching the flame of her candle that threatened each secondto be blown out, alone on the wide, draughty landing, frightened at thesound of her own calls mingling weirdly with the creakings and hangingsof the tempest-shaken house, was an object deserving of pity. It tooksome minutes to induce Hilton to open the door, and such minutes Susiehad not, in the course of an ordered and normal existence, yet passed. They both went into Susie's room, locked themselves in, and Hilton laydown on the sofa; and after a long time they fell into an uneasy sleep. At half-past three Susie started up in bed; some one was trying to openthe door and knocking. The candles had burnt themselves out, and shecould not tell what time it was, but thought it must be early morningand that the servant wanted to bring her hot water; and she woke Hiltonand bade her open the door. Hilton did so, gave a faint scream, andflung herself back on the sofa, where she lay as one dead, her faceburied in the pillow. A man with a lantern and no shoes on was at thedoor, and came in noiselessly. Susie was never nearer fainting in herlife. She sat in her bed, her cold hands clasped tightly round herknees, her eyes fixed on this dreadful apparition, unable to speak ormove, paralysed by terror. This was the end, then, of all her hopes andambitions--to come to Pomerania and die like a dog. Then the sickeningfeeling of fear gave way to one of overwhelming wrath when she foundthat all the man wanted was to light her stove. On the same principlethat a child is shaken who has not after all been lost or run over, shewas speechless with rage now that she found that she was not, after all, to be murdered. He was a very old man, and the light from the lanterncast strange reflections on his face and figure as he crouched beforethe stove. He mumbled as he worked, talking to the fire he was making asthough it were a person. "_Du willst nicht, brennen, Lump? Was? Na, warte mal!_" And when he had finished, crept out again without glancingat the occupants of the room, still mumbling. 

"It's the custom of the country, I suppose, " said Anna. 

"Is it? Well the sooner we get out of such a country the better. You aredetermined to stay in spite of everything? I can tell you I don't at alllike my child being here, but you force me to leave her because you knowvery well that I can't let you stay here alone. "

Anna glanced at Hilton, folding a dress with immense deliberation. 

"Oh, Hilton knows what I think, " said Susie, with a shrug. 

"But she doesn't know what _I_ think, " said Anna. "I must talk to youbefore you leave, so please let her finish packing afterwards. Go andhave your breakfast, Hilton. "

"Did you say breakfast, m'm?" inquired Hilton with an innocent look. 

"Breakfast?" repeated Susie; "poor thing, I'd like to know how and whereshe is to get any. "

"Well, then, go and don't have your breakfast, " said Anna impatiently. She had something to tell Susie that must be told soon, and was not in amood to bear with Hilton's ways. 

"How hospitable, " remarked Susie as the door closed. "Really you are adelightful hostess. "

Anna laughed. "I don't mean to be brutal, " she said, "but if we canexist on the food without looking tragic I suppose she can too, especially as it is only for one day. "

"My one consolation in leaving Letty here is that she will be dieted inspite of herself. I expect you to bring her back quite thin. "

Anna got up restlessly and went to the window. 

"And whatever you do, don't forget that the return tickets only lasttill the 24th. But you'll be sick of it long before then. "

Anna turned round and leaned her back against the window. The strongmorning light was on her hair, and her face was in shadow, yet Susie hada feeling that she was looking guilty. 

"Susie, I've been thinking, " she said with an effort. 

"Really? How nice. "

"Yes, it was, for I found out what it is that I must do if I mean to behappy. But I'm afraid that _you_ won't think it nice, and will scold me. Now don't scold me. "

"Well, tell me what it is. " Susie lay staring at Anna's form against thelight, bracing herself to hear something disagreeable. She knew verywell from past experience that Anna's new plan, whatever it was, wascertain to be wild and foolish. 

"I am going to stay here. "

"I know you are, and I know that nothing I can say will make you changeyour mind. Peter is just like you--the more I show him what a fool he'sgoing to make of himself the more he insists on doing it. He calls itdetermination. Average people like myself, with smaller and more easilymanaged brains than you two wonders have got, call it pigheadedness. "

"I don't mean only for Letty's holidays; I mean for good. "

"For good?" Susie opened her mouth and stared in much the same blankconsternation that Dellwig had shown on hearing that she did not likeeating pig. 

"Don't be angry with me, " said Anna, coming over to the sofa and sittingon the floor by Susie's side; and she caught hold of her hand and beganto talk fast and eagerly. "I always intended spending this money inhelping poor people, but didn't quite know in what way--now I see my wayclearly, and I must, _must_ go it. Don't you remember in the catechismthere's the duty towards God and the duty towards one's neighbour----"

"Oh, if you're going to talk religion----" said Susie, pulling away herhand in great disgust. 

"No, no, do listen, " said Anna, catching it again and stroking it whileshe talked, to Susie's intense irritation, who hated being stroked. 

"If you are going into the catechism, " she said, "Hilton had better comein again. It might do her good. "

"No, no--I only wanted to say that there's another duty not in thecatechism, greater than the duty towards one's neighbour----"

"My dear Anna, it isn't likely that you can improve on the catechism. And fancy wanting to, at breakfast time. Don't stroke my hand--it givesme the fidgets. "

"But I want to explain things--do listen. The duty the catechism leavesout is the duty towards oneself. You can't get away from your duties, you know, Susie----" And she knit her brows in her effort to follow outher thought. 

"My goodness, as though I ever tried! If ever a poor woman did her duty, I'm that woman. "

"--and I believe that if I do those two duties, towards my neighbour andmyself, I shall be doing my duty towards God. "

Susie gave her body an impatient twist. She thought it positivelyindecent to speak of sacred things so early in the morning in coldblood. "What has this drivel to do with your stopping here?" she askedangrily. 

"It has everything to do with it--my duty towards myself is to be ashappy and as good as possible, and my duty towards my neighbour----"

"Oh, bother your neighbour and your duty!" cried Susie in exasperation. 

"--is to help him to be good and happy too. "

"Him? Her, I hope. Don't forget decency, my dear. A girl has no dutieswhatever towards male neighbours. "

"Well, I do mean her, " said Anna, looking up and laughing. 

"So you think that by living here you'll make yourself happy?"

"Yes, I do--I do think so. Perhaps I am wrong, and shall find out I'mwrong, but I must try. "

"You'll leave all your friends and relations and stay in thisGod-forsaken place where you can't even live like a lady?"

"Uncle Joachim said it was my one chance of leading the better life. "

"Unutterable old fool, " said Susie with bitterest contempt. "That money, then, is going to be thrown away on Germans? As though there weren'tpoor people enough in England, if your ambition is to pose as abenefactress!"

"Oh, I don't want to pose as anything--I only want to help unhappywretches, " cried Anna, laying her cheek caressingly on Susie's unwillinghand. "Now don't scold me--forgive me if I'm silly, and be patient withme till I find out that I've made a goose of myself and come creepingback to you and Peter. But I _must_ do it--I _must_ try--I _will_ dowhat I think is right. "

"And who are the wretches, pray, who are to be made happy?"

"Oh, those I am sorriest for--that no one else helps--the genteel ones, if I can only get at them. "

"I never heard of genteel wretches, " said Susie. 

Anna laughed again. "I was thinking it all out in the forest thismorning, " she said, "and it suddenly flashed across me that this bigroomy house was never meant not to be used, and that instead of going tosee poor people and giving them money in the ordinary way, it would beso much better to let women of the better classes, who have no money, and who are dependent and miserable, come and live with me and sharemine, and have everything that I have--exactly the same, with nodifference of any sort. There is room for twelve at least, and wouldn'tit be beautiful to make twelve people, who had lost all hope and allcourage, happy for the rest of their days?"

"Oh, the girl's mad!" cried Susie, springing up from the sofa, no longerable to bear herself. She began to walk about the room, not knowing whatto say or do, absolutely without sympathy for beneficent impulses, atall times possessed of a fine scorn for ideals, feeling that no argumentwould be of any avail with an Estcourt whose mind was made up, shockedthat good money, so hard to get, and so very precious when got, shouldbe thrown away in such a manner, bewildered by the difficulties of thesituation, for how could a girl of Anna's age live alone, and direct ahouse full of objects of charity? Would the objects themselves be asufficient chaperonage? Would her friends at home think so? Would theynot blame her, Susie, for having allowed all this? As though she couldprevent it! Or would they expect her to stay with Anna in this placetill she should marry? As though anybody would ever marry such alunatic! "Mad, mad, mad!" cried Susie, wringing her hands. 

"I was afraid that you wouldn't like it, " said the culprit on the floor, watching her with a distressed face. 

"Like it? Oh--mad, mad!" And she continued to walk and wring her hands. 

"Well, you'll stay, then, " she said, suddenly stopping in front of Anna, "I know you well enough, and shall waste no breath arguing. Thatinfatuated old man's money has turned your head--I didn't know it was soweak. But look into your heart when I am gone--you'll have time enoughand quiet enough--and ask yourself honestly whether what you are goingto do is a proper way of paying back all I have done for you, and allthe expense you have been. You know what my wishes are about you, andyou don't care one jot. Gratitude! There isn't a spark of it in yourwhole body. Never was there a more selfish creature, and I can't believethat ingratitude and selfishness are the stuff that makes saints. Don'tdare to talk any more rot about duty to your neighbour to me. AnEnglishwoman to come and spend her money on German charities----"

"It's German money, " murmured Anna. 

"And to _live_ here--to live _here_--oh, mad, mad!" And Susie'sindignation threatening to choke her, she resumed her walk and hergesticulations, her high heels tapping furiously on the bare boards. 

She longed to take Letty and Miss Leech away with her that very morning, and punish Anna by leaving her entirely alone; but she did not darebecause of Peter. Peter was always on Anna's side when there weredifferences, and would be sure to do something dreadful when he heard ofit--perhaps come and live here too, and never go back to his wife anymore. Oh, these half Germans! Why had she married into a family withsuch a taint in its blood? "You will have to have some one here, " shesaid, turning on Anna, who still sat on the floor by the sofa, a look onher face of apology and penitence mixed with firmness that Susie wellknew. "How can you stay here alone? I shall leave Miss Leech with youtill the end of the holidays, though I hate to seem to encourage you;but then you see I do my duty and always have, though I don't talk aboutit. When I get home I shall look for some elderly woman who won't mindcoming here and seeing that you don't make yourself too much of aby-word, and the day she comes you are to send me back my child. "

"It is good of you to let me keep Letty, dear Susie----"

"Dear Susie!"

"But I don't mean to be a by-word, as you call it, " continued Anna, theghost of a smile lurking in her eyes, "and I don't want an Englishwoman. What use would she be here? She wouldn't understand if it was a Germanby-word that I turned into. I thought about asking the parson how I hadbetter set about getting a German lady--a grave and sober female, advanced in years, as Uncle Joachim wrote. "

"Oh, Uncle Joachim----" Susie could hardly endure to hear the name. Itwas that odious old man who had filled Anna's head with these ideas. Toleave her money was admirable, but to influence a weak girl's mind withhis wishy-washy German philosophy about the better life and suchrubbish, as he evidently had done during those excursions with her, wasconduct so shameful that she found no words strong enough to express heropinion of it. Everyone would blame her for what had happened, everyonewould jeer at her, and say that the moment an opportunity of escape hadpresented itself Anna had seized it, preferring an existence ofloneliness and hardship--any sort of existence--to all the pleasures ofcivilised life in Susie's company. Peter would certainly be very angrywith her, and reproach her with not having made Anna happy enough. Happyenough! The girl had cost her at least three hundred a year, what withher expensive education and all her clothes since she came out; and ifthree hundred good pounds spent on a girl could not make her happy, she'd like to know what could. And no one--not one of those odiouspeople in London whom she secretly hated--would have a single word ofcensure for Anna. No one ever had. All her vagaries and absurditiesduring the last few years when she had been so provoking had been smiledat, had been, Susie knew, put down to her treatment of her. Treatment ofher, indeed! The thought of these things made Susie writhe. She had beenlooking forward to the next season, to having her pretty sister-in-lawwith her in the happy mood she had been in since she heard of her goodfortune, and had foreseen nothing but advantages to herself from Anna'spresence in her house--an Anna spending and not being spent upon, and nodoubt to be persuaded to share the expenses of housekeeping. And now shemust go home by herself to blame, scoldings, and derision. The prospectwas almost more than she could bear. She went to the door, opened it, and turning to Anna fired a parting shot. "Let no one, " she said, hervoice shaken by deepest disgust, "who wants to be happy, ever spend apenny on her husband's relations. "

And then she called Hilton; nor did she leave off calling till Hiltonappeared, and so prevented Anna from saying another word. 

CHAPTER VIII

But if Susie's rage was such that she refused to say good-bye, andterrified Miss Leech while she was waiting in the hall for the carriageby dark allusions to strait-waistcoats, when the parson was taken intoAnna's confidence after dinner on the following night his raptures knewno bounds. "_Liebes, edeldenkendes Fräulein!_" he burst out, claspinghis hands and gazing with a moist, ecstatic eye at this young sprig ofpiety. He was a good man, not very learned, not very refined, sentimental exceedingly, and much inclined to become tearfully eloquenton such subjects as _die liebe kleine Kinder, die herrliche Natur, dieFrau als Schutzengel_, and the sacredness of _das Familienleben_. 

Anna felt that he was the only person at hand who could perhaps help herto find twelve dejected ladies willing to be made happy, and hadunfolded her plan to him as tersely as possible in her stumbling German, with none of those accompanying digressions into the question offeelings that Susie stigmatised as drivel; and she sat uncomfortableenough while he burst forth into praises that would not end of hergoodness and nobleness. It is hard to look anything but fatuous whensomebody is extolling your virtues to your face, and she could not helpboth looking and feeling foolish during his extravagant glorification. She did not doubt his sincerity, and indeed he was absolutely sincere, but she wished that he would be less flowery and less long, and wouldskip the raptures and get on to the main subject, which was practicaladvice. 

She wore the simple white dress that had caused such a sensation in theneighbourhood, a garment that hung in long, soft folds, accentuating herslender length of limb. Her bright hair was parted and tucked behind herears. Everything about her breathed an absolute want ofself-consciousness and vanity, a perfect freedom from the least thoughtof the impression she might be making; yet she was beautiful, and thegood man observing her beauty, and supposing from what she had just toldhim an equal beauty of character, for ever afterwards when he thought ofangels on quiet Sunday evenings in his garden, clothed them as Anna wasclothed that night, not even shrinking from the pretty, bare shouldersand scantily sleeved arms, but facing them with a courage worthy of aman, however doubtfully it might become a pastor. 

His wife, in her best dress, which was also her tightest, sat on theedge of a chair some way off, marvelling greatly at many things. Shecould not hear what it was Anna had said to set her husband offexclaiming, because the governess persisted in trying to talk German toher, and would not be satisfied with vague replies. She was disappointedby the sudden disappearance of the sister-in-law, gone before she hadshown herself to a single soul; astonished that she had not beenrequested to sit on the sofa, in which place of honour the youngFräulein sprawled in a way that would certainly ruin her clothes;disgusted that she had not been pressed at table, nay, not even asked, to partake of every dish a second time; indeed, no one had seemed tonotice or care whether she ate anything at all. These were strange ways. And where were the Dellwigs, those great people accustomed to patroniseher because she was the parson's wife? Was it possible that they had notbeen invited? Were there then quarrels already? She could not of coursedream that Anna would never have thought of asking her inspector and hiswife to dinner, and that in her ignorance she regarded the parson as aperson on an altogether higher social level than the inspector. Thesethings, joined to conjectures as to the probable price by the yard ofAnna's, Letty's, and Miss Leech's clothes, gave Frau Manske more foodfor reflection than she had had for years; and she sat turning them overslowly in her mind in the intervals between Miss Leech's sentences, while her dress, which was of silk, creaked ominously with every painfulbreath she drew. 

"The best way to act, " said the parson, when he had exhausted thegreater part of his raptures, "will be to advertise in a newspaper of aChristian character. "

"But not in my name, " said Anna. 

"No, no, we must be discreet--we must be very discreet. Theadvertisement must be drawn up with skill. I will make, simultaneously, inquiries among my colleagues in the holy office, but there must also bean advertisement. What would the gracious Miss's opinion be of thedesirability of referring all applicants, in the first instance, to me?"

"Why, I think it would be an excellent plan, if you do not mind thetrouble. "

"Trouble! Joy fills me at the thought of taking part in this good work. Little did I think that our poor corner of the fatherland was to becomea holy place, a blessed refuge for the world-worn, a nook fragrant withcharity----"

"No, not charity, " interposed Anna. 

"Whose perfume, " continued the parson, determined to finish hissentence, "whose perfume will ascend day and night to the attentiveheavens. But such are the celestial surprises Providence keeps inreserve and springs upon us when we least expect it. "

"Yes, " said Anna. "But what shall we put in the advertisement?"

"_Ach ja_, the advertisement. In the contemplation of this beautifulscheme I forget the advertisement. " And again the moisture of ecstasysuffused his eyes, and again he clasped his hands and gazed at her withhis head on one side, almost as though the young lady herself were thebeautiful scheme. 

Anna got up and went to the writing-table to fetch a pencil and a sheetof paper, anxious to keep him to the point; and the parson watching thegraceful white figure was more than ever struck by her resemblance tohis idea of angels. He did not consider how easy it was to look like abeing from another world, a creature purified of every earthlygrossness, to eyes accustomed to behold the redundant exuberance of hisown excellent wife. 

She brought the paper, and sat down again at the table on which the lampstood. "How does one write any sort of advertisement in German?" shesaid. "I could not write one for a housemaid. And this one must be doneso carefully. "

"Very true; for, alas, even ladies are sometimes not all that theyprofess to be. Sad that in a Christian country there should beimpostors. Doubly sad that there should be any of the female sex. "

"Very sad, " said Anna, smiling. "You must tell me which are theimpostors among those that answer. "

"_Ach_, it will not be easy, " said the parson, whose experience ofladies was limited, and who began to see that he was taking upon himselfresponsibilities that threatened to become grave. Suppose he recommendedan applicant who afterwards departed with the gracious Miss's spoons inher bag? "_Ach_, it will not be easy, " he said, shaking his head. 

"Oh, well, " said Anna, "we must risk the impostors. There may not be anyat all. How would you begin?"

The parson threw himself back in his chair, folded his hands, cast uphis eyes to the ceiling, and meditated. Anna waited, pencil in hand, ready to write at his dictation. Frau Manske at the other end of theroom was straining her ears to hear what was going on, but Miss Leech, desirous both of entertaining her and of practising her German, wouldnot cease from her spasmodic talk, even expecting her mistakes to becorrected. And there were no refreshments, no glasses of cooling beerbeing handed round, no liquid consolation of any sort, not even seltzerwater. She regarded her evening as a failure. 

"A Christian lady of noble sentiments, " dictated the parson, apparentlyreading the words off the ceiling, "offers a home in her house----"

"Is this the advertisement?" asked Anna. 

"--offers a home in her house----"

"I don't quite like the beginning, " hesitated Anna. "I would ratherleave out about the noble sentiments. "

"As the gracious one pleases. Modesty can never be anything but anornament. 'A Christian lady----'"

"But why a _Christian_ lady? Why not simply a lady? Are there, then, heathen ladies about, that you insist on the Christian?"

"Worse, worse than heathen, " replied the parson, sitting up straight, and fixing eyeballs suddenly grown fiery on her; and his voice fell to ahissing whisper, in strange contrast to his previous honeyed tones. "Theheathen live in far-off lands, where they keep quiet till ourmissionaries gather them into the Church's fold--but here, here in ourmidst, here everywhere, taking the money from our pockets, nay, the verybread from our mouths, are the _Jews_. "

Impossible to describe the tone of fear and hatred with which this wordwas pronounced. 

Anna gazed at him, mystified. "The Jews?" she echoed. One of hergreatest friends at home was a Jew, a delightful person, the mererecollection of whom made her smile, so witty and charming and kind washe. And of Jews in general she could not remember to have heard anythingat all. 

"But not only money from our pockets and bread from our mouths, "continued the parson, leaning forward, his light grey eyes opened totheir widest extent, and speaking in a whisper that made her flesh beginthe process known as creeping, "but blood--blood from our veins. "

"Blood from your veins?" she repeated faintly. It sounded horrid. Itoffended her ears. It had nothing to do with the advertisement. Thestrange light in his eyes made her think of fanaticism, cruelty, and theMiddle Ages. The mildest of men in general, as she found later on, rabidness seized him at the mere mention of Jews. 

"Blood, " he hissed, "from the veins of Christians, for the performanceof their unholy rites. Did the gracious one never hear of ritualmurders?"

"No, " said Anna, shrinking back, the nearer he leaned towards her, "never in my life. Don't tell me now, for it--it sounds interesting. Ishould like to hear about it all another time. 'A Christian lady offersher home, '" she went on quickly, scribbling that much down, and thenlooking at him inquiringly. 

"_Ach ja_, " he said in his natural voice, leaning back in his chair andreducing his eyes to their normal size, "I forgot again theadvertisement. 'A Christian lady offers her home to others of her sexand station who are without means----'"

"And without friends, and without hope, " added Anna, writing. 

"_Gut, gut, sehr gut. _"

"She has room in her house in the country, " Anna went on, writing as shespoke, "for twelve such ladies, and will be glad to share with them allthat she possesses of fortune and happiness. "

"_Gut, gut, sehr gut. _"

"Is the German correct?"

"Quite correct. I would add, 'Strictest inquiries will be made beforeacceptance of any application by Herr Pastor Manske of Lohm, to whom allletters are to be addressed. Applicants must be ladies of good family, who have fallen on evil days by the will of God. '"

Anna wrote this down as far as "days, " after which she put a full stop. 

"It pleases me not entirely, " said Manske, musing; "the language is notsufficiently noble. Noble schemes should be alluded to in noble words. "

"But not in an advertisement. "

"Why not? We ought not to hide our good thoughts from our fellows, butrather open our hearts, pour out our feelings, spend freely all that wehave in us of virtue and piety, for the edification and exhilaration ofothers. "

"But not in an advertisement. I don't want to exhilarate the public. "

"And why not exhilarate the public, dear Miss? Is it not composed ofunits of like passions to ourselves? Units on the way to heaven, unitsbowed down by the same sorrows, cheered by the same hopes, torn asunderby the same temptations as the gracious one and myself?" And immediatelyhe launched forth into a flood of eloquence about units; for in Germanysermons are all extempore, and the clergy, from constant practice, acquire a fatal fluency of speech, bursting out in the week on the leastprovocation into preaching, and not by any known means to be stopped. 

"Oh--words, words, words!" thought Anna, waiting till he should havefinished. His wife, hearing the well-known rapid speech of his inspiredmoments, glowed with pride. "My Adolf surpasses himself, " she thought;"the Miss must wonder. "

The Miss did wonder. She sat and wondered, her elbows on the arms of thechair, her finger tips joined together, and her eyes fixed on her fingertips. She did not like to look at him, because, knowing how differentwas the effect produced on her to that which he of course imagined, shewas sorry for him. 

"It is so good of you to help me, " she said with gentle irrelevance whenthe longed-for pause at length came. "There was something else that Iwanted to consult you about. I must look for a companion--an elderlyGerman lady, who will help me in the housekeeping. "

"Yes, yes, I comprehend. But would not the twelve be sufficientcompanions, and helps in the housekeeping?"

"No, because I would not like them to think that I want anything donefor me in return for their home. I want them to do exactly what makesthem happiest. They will all have had sad lives, and must waste no moretime in doing things they don't quite like. "

"Ah--noble, noble, " murmured the parson, quite as unpractical as Anna, and fascinated by the very vagueness of her plan of benevolence. 

"The companion I wish to find would be another sort of person, and wouldhelp me in return for a salary. "

"Certainly, I comprehend. "

"I thought perhaps you would tell me how to advertise for such aperson?"

"Surely, surely. My wife has a sister----"

He paused. Anna looked up quickly. She had not reckoned with thepossibility of his wife's having sisters. 

"_Lieber Schatz_, " he called to his wife, "what does thy sister Helenado now?"

Frau Manske got up and came over to them with the alacrity of relief. "What dost thou say, dear Adolf?" she asked, laying her hand on hisshoulder. He took it in his, stroked it, kissed it, and finally put hisarm round her waist and held it there while he talked; all to theexceeding joy of Letty, to whom such proceedings had the charm ofabsolute freshness. 

"Thy sister Helena--is she at present in the parental house?" he asked, looking up at her fondly, warmed into an affection even greater thanordinary by the circumstance of having spectators. 

Frau Manske was not sure. She would write and inquire. Anna proposedthat she should sit down, but the parson playfully held her closer. "This is my guardian angel, " he explained, smiling beatifically at her, "the faithful mother of my children, now grown up and gone their severalways. Does the gracious Miss remember the immortal lines of Schiller, '_Ehret die Frauen, sie flechten und weben himmlische Rosen in'sirdische Leben_'? Such has been the occupation of this dear wife, onlyinterrupted by her occasional visits to bathing resorts, since the day, more than twenty-five years ago, when she consented to tread with me thepath leading heavenwards. Not a day has there been, except when she wasat the seaside, without its roses. "

"Oh, " said Anna. She felt that the remark was not at the height of thesituation, and added, "How--how interesting. " This also struck her asinadequate; but all further inspiration failing her, she was reduced tothe silent sympathy of smiles. 

"Ten children did the Lord bless us with, " continued the parson, expanding into confidences, "and six it was His will again to remove. "

"The drains--" murmured Frau Manske. 

"Yes, truly the drains in the town where we lived then were bad, verybad. But one must not question the wisdom of Providence. "

"No, but one might mend----" Anna stopped, feeling that under somecircumstances even the mending of drains might be impious. She had heardso much about piety and Providence within the last two hours that shewas confused, and was no longer clear as to the exact limit of conductbeyond which a flying in the face of Providence might be said to begin. 

But the parson, clasping his wife to his side, paid no heed to anythingshe might be saying, for he was already well on in a detailed account ofthe personal appearance, habits, and career of his four remainingchildren, and dwelt so fondly on each in turn that he forgot sisterHelena and the second advertisement; and when he had explained all theirnumerous excellencies and harmless idiosyncrasies, including theirpreferences in matters of food and drink, he abruptly quitted thistopic, and proceeded to expound Anna's scheme to his wife, who hadlistened with ill-concealed impatience to the first part of hisdiscourse, consumed as she was with curiosity to hear what it was thatAnna had confided to him. 

So Anna had to listen to the raptures all over again. The eager interestof the wife disturbed her. She doubted whether Frau Manske had any realsympathy with her plan. Her inquisitiveness was unquestionable; but Annafelt that opening her heart to the parson and opening it to his wifewere two different things. Though he was wordy, he was certainlyenthusiastic; his wife, on the other hand, appeared to be chieflyinterested in the question of cost. "The cost will be colossal, " shesaid, surveying Anna from head to foot. "But the gracious Miss is rich, "she added. 

Anna began to examine her finger tips again. 

On the way home through the dark fields, after having criticised eachdish of the dinner and expressed the opinion that the entertainment wasnot worthy of such a wealthy lady, Frau Manske observed to her husbandthat it was true, then, what she had always heard of the English, thatthey were peculiarly liable to prolonged attacks of craziness. 

"Craziness! Thou callest this craziness? It is my wife, the wife of apastor, that I hear applying such a word to so beautiful, so Christian, a scheme?"

"But the good money--to give it all away. Yes, it is very Christian, butit is also crazy. "

"Woman, shut thy mouth!" cried the parson, beside himself withindignation at hearing such sentiments from such lips. 

Clearly Frau Manske was not at that moment engaged with her roses. 

CHAPTER IX

The next morning early, Anna went over to the farm to ask Dellwig tolend her any newspapers he might have. She was anxious to advertise assoon as possible for a companion, and now that she knew of the existenceof sister Helena, thought it better to write this advertisement withoutthe parson's aid, copying any other one of the sort that she might seein the papers. Until she had secured the services of a German lady whowould tell her how to set about the reforms she intended making in herhouse, she was perfectly helpless. She wanted to put her home in orderquickly, so that the twelve unhappy ones should not be kept waiting; andthere were many things to be done. Servants, furniture, everything, wasnecessary, and she did not know where such things were to be had. Shedid not even know where washerwomen were obtainable, and Frau Dellwignever seemed to be at home when she sent for her, or went to her seekinginformation. On Good Friday, after Susie's departure, she had sent amessage to the farm desiring the attendance of the inspector's wife, whom she wished to consult about the dinner to be prepared for theManskes, all provisions apparently passing through Frau Dellwig's hands;and she had been told that the lady was at church. On Saturday morning, disturbed by the emptiness of her larder and the imminence of herguests, she had gone herself to the farm, but was told that the lady wasin the cow-sheds--in which cow-shed nobody exactly knew. Anna had beenforced to ask Dellwig about the food. On Sunday she took Letty with her, abashed by the whisperings and starings she had had to endure when shewent alone. Nor on this occasion did she see the inspector's wife, andshe began to wonder what had become of her. 

The Dellwigs' wrath and amazement when they found that the parson andhis wife had been invited to dinner and they themselves left out wasindescribable. Never had such an insult been offered them. They hadalways been the first people of their class in the place, always heldtheir heads up and condescended to the clergy, always been helped firstat table, gone first through doors, sat in the right-hand corners ofsofas. If he was furious, she was still more so, filled with venom andhatred unutterable for the innocent, but it must be added overjoyed, Frau Manske; and though her own interest demanded it, she was altogetherunable to bring herself to meet Anna for the purpose, as she knew, ofbeing consulted about the menu to be offered to the wretched upstart. Indeed, Frau Dellwig's position was similar to that painful one in whichSusie found herself when her influential London acquaintance left herout of the invitations to the wedding; on which occasion, as we know, Susie had been constrained to flee to Germany in order to escape thecomments of her friends. Frau Dellwig could not flee anywhere. She wasobliged to stay where she was and bear it as best she might, humiliatedin the eyes of the whole neighbourhood, an object of derision to hervery milkmaids. Philosophers smile at such trials; but to persons whoare not philosophers, and at Kleinwalde these were in the majority, theyare more difficult to endure than any family bereavement. There is nodignity about them, and friends, instead of sympathising, rejoice moreor less openly according to the degree of their civilisation. The degreeof civilisation among Frau Dellwig's friends was not great, and therejoicings on the next Sunday when they all met would be butill-concealed; there was no escape from them, they had to be faced, andthe malicious condolences accepted with what countenance she could. Instead of making sausages, therefore, she shut herself in her bedroomand wept. 

And so it came about that the unconscious Anna, whose one desire was tolive at peace with her neighbours, made two enemies within two days. "All women, " said Dellwig to his wife, "high and low, are alike. Unlessthey have a husband to keep them in their right places, they becomereligious and run after pastors. Manske has wormed himself in verycleverly, truly very cleverly. But we will worm him out again with equalcleverness. As for his wife, what canst thou expect from so great afool?"

"No, indeed, from her I expect nothing, " replied his wife, tossing herhead, "but from the niece of our late master I expected the behaviour ofa lady. " And at that moment, the niece of her late master beingannounced, she fled into her bedroom. 

Anna, friendly as ever, specially kind to Dellwig since his tears on thenight of her arrival, came with Letty into the gloomy little officewhere he was working, with all the morning sunshine in her face. Thoughshe was perplexed by many things, she was intensely happy. The perfectfreedom, after her years of servitude, was like heaven. Here she was inher own home, from which nobody could take her, free to arrange her lifeas she chose. Oh, it was a beautiful world, and this the most beautifulcorner of it! She was sure the sky was bluer at Kleinwalde than in otherplaces, and that the larks sang louder. And then was she not on the veryverge of realising her dreams of bringing the light of happiness intodark and hopeless lives? Oh, the beautiful, beautiful world! She cameinto Dellwig's room with the love of it shining in her eyes. 

He was as obsequious as ever, for unfortunately his bread and butterdepended on this perverse young woman; but he was also graver and lesstalkative, considering within himself that he could not be expected topass over such a slight without some alteration in his manner. He ought, he felt, to show that he was pained, and he ought to show it sounmistakably that she would perhaps be led to offer some explanation ofher conduct. Accordingly he assumed the subdued behaviour of one whosefeelings have been hurt, and Anna thought how greatly he improved onacquaintance. 

He would have given much to know why she wanted the papers, for surelyit was unusual for women to read newspapers? When there was a murder, oranything of that sort, his wife liked to see them, but not at othertimes. "Is the gracious Miss interested in politics?" he inquired, as heput several together. 

"No, not particularly, " said Anna; "at least, not yet in Germanpolitics. I must live here a little while first. "

"In--in literature, perhaps?"

"No, not particularly. I know so little about German books. "

"There are some well-written articles occasionally on the modes inladies' dresses. "

"Really?"

"My wife tells me she often gets hints from them as to what is beingworn. Ladies, we know, " he added with a superior smile, checked, however, on his remembering that he was pained, "are interested in thesematters. "

"Yes, they are, " agreed Anna, smiling, and holding out her hand for thepapers. 

"Ah, then, it is that that the gracious Miss wishes to read?" he saidquickly. 

"No, not particularly, " said Anna, who began to see that he too sufferedfrom the prevailing inquisitiveness. Besides, she was too much afraid ofhis having sisters, or of his wife's having sisters, eager to come andbe a blessing to her, to tell him about her advertisement. 

On the steps of his house, to which Dellwig accompanied the two girls, stood a man who had just got off his horse. He was pulling off hisgloves as he watched it being led away by a boy. He had his back toAnna, and she looked at it interested, for it was unlike any back shehad yet seen in Kleinwalde, in that it was the back of a gentleman. 

"It is Herr von Lohm, " said Dellwig, "who has business here thismorning. Some of our people unfortunately drink too much on holidayslike Good Friday, and there are quarrels. I explained to the graciousone that he is our Amtsvorsteher. "

Herr von Lohm turned at the sound of Dellwig's voice, and took off hishat. "Pray present me to these ladies, " he said to Dellwig, and bowed asgravely to Letty as to Anna, to her great satisfaction. 

"So this is my neighbour?" thought Anna, looking down at him from thehigher step on which she stood with her papers under her arm. 

"So this is old Joachim's niece, of whom he was always talking?" thoughtLohm, looking up at her. "Wise old man to leave the place to her insteadof to those unpleasant sons. " And he proceeded to make a fewconventional remarks, hoping that she liked her new home and would soonbe quite used to the country life. "It is very quiet and lonely for alady not used to our kind of country, with its big estates and fewneighbours, " he said in English. "May I talk English to you? It gives mepleasure to do so. "

"Please do, " said Anna. Here was a person who might be very helpful toher if ever she reached her wits' end; and how nice he looked, howclean, and what a pleasant voice he had, falling so gratefully on earsalready aching with Dellwig's shouts and the parson's emphatic oratory. 

He was somewhere between thirty and forty, not young at all, shethought, having herself never got out of the habit of feeling veryyoung; and beyond being long and wiry, with not even a tendency to fat, as she noticed with pleasure, there was nothing striking about him. Histop boots and his green Norfolk jacket and green felt hat with a littlefeather stuck in it gave him an air of being a sportsman. It wasrefreshing to come across him, if only because he did not bow. Also, considering him from the top of the steps, she became suddenly consciousthat Dellwig and the parson neglected their persons more than wasseemly. They were both no doubt very excellent; but she did like nicelywashed men. 

Herr von Lohm began to talk about Uncle Joachim, with whom he had beenvery intimate. Anna came down the steps and he went a few yards withher, leaving Dellwig standing at the door, and followed by the eyes ofDellwig's wife, concealed behind her bedroom curtain. 

"I shall be with you in one moment, " called Lohm over his shoulder. 

"_Gut_, " said Dellwig; and he went in to tell his wife that theseEnglish ladies were very free with gentlemen, and to bid her mark hiswords that Lohm and Kleinwalde would before long be one estate. 

"And us? What will become of us?" she asked, eying him anxiously. 

"I too would like to know that, " replied her husband. "This all comes ofleaving land away from the natural heirs. " And with great energy heproceeded to curse the memory of his late master. 

Lohm's English was so good that it astonished Anna. It was stiff andslow, but he made no mistakes at all. His manner was grave, and lookingat him more attentively she saw traces on his face of much hard work andanxiety. He told her that his mother had been a cousin of UncleJoachim's wife. "So that there is a slight relationship by marriageexisting between us, " he said. 

"Very slight, " said Anna, smiling, "faint almost beyond recognition. "

"Does your niece stay with you for an indefinite period?" he asked. "Icannot avoid knowing that this young lady is your niece, " he added witha smile, "and that she is here with her governess, and that LadyEstcourt left suddenly on Good Friday, because all that concerns you isof the greatest interest to the inhabitants of this quiet place, andthey talk of little else. "

"How long will it take them to get used to me? I don't like being anobject of interest. No, Letty is going home as soon as I have found acompanion. That is why I am taking the inspector's newspapers home withme. I can't construct an advertisement out of my stores of German, andam going to see if I can find something that will serve as model. "

"Oh, may I help you? What difficulties you must meet with every hour ofthe day!"

"I do, " agreed Anna, thinking of all there was to be done before shecould open her doors and her arms to the twelve. 

"Any service that I can render to my oldest friend's niece will give methe greatest pleasure. Will you allow me to send the advertisement foryou? You can hardly know how or where to send it. "

"I don't, " said Anna. "It would be very kind--I really would begrateful. It is so important that I should find somebody soon. "

"It is of the first importance, " said Lohm. 

"Has the parson told him of my plans already?" thought Anna. But Lohmhad not seen Manske that morning, and was only picturing this littlething to himself, this dainty little lady, used to such a differentlife, alone in the empty house, struggling with her small supply ofGerman to make the two raw servants understand her ways. Anna was not alittle thing at all, and she would have been half-amused andhalf-indignant if she had known that that was the impression she hadmade on him. 

"My sister, Gräfin Hasdorf, " he began--"Heavens, " she thought, "has _he_got an unattached sister?"--"sometimes stays with me with her children, and when she is here will be able to help you in many ways if you willallow her to. She too knew your uncle from her childhood. She will begreatly interested to know that you have had the courage to settlehere. "

"Courage?" echoed Anna. "Why, I love it. It's the most beautiful placein the world. "

Lohm looked doubtfully at her for a moment; but there was no mistakingthe sincerity of those eyes. "It is pleasant to hear you say so, " hesaid. "My sister Trudi would scarcely credit her ears if she werepresent. To her it is a terrible place, and she pities me with all herheart because my lot is cast in it. "

Anna laughed. She thought she knew very well what sister Trudis werelike. "I do not pity you, " she said; "I couldn't pity any being wholived in this air, and under this sky. Look how blue it is--and thegeese--did you ever see such white geese?"

A flock of geese were being driven across the sunny yard, dazzling intheir whiteness. Anna lifted up her face to the sun and drew in a longbreath of the sharp air. She forgot Lohm for a moment--it was such aglorious Easter Sunday, and the world was so full of the abundant giftsof God. 

Dellwig, who had been watching them from his wife's window, thought thatthe brawlers who were going to be fined had been kept waiting longenough, and came out again on to the steps. 

Lohm saw him, and felt that he must go. "I must do my business, " hesaid, "but as you have given me permission I will send an advertisementto the papers to-night. Of course you desire to have an elderly lady ofgood family?"

"Yes, but not too elderly--not so elderly that she won't be able towork. There will be so much to do, so very much to do. "

Lohm went away wondering what work there could possibly be, except theagreeable and easy work of seeing that this young lady was properly fed, and properly petted, and in every way taken care of. 

CHAPTER X

He sent the advertisement by the evening post to two or three of thebest newspapers. He had seen the pastor after morning church, who had atonce poured into his ears all about Anna's twelve ladies, garnishing thestory with interjections warmly appreciative of the action of Providencein the matter. Lohm had been considerably astonished, but had saidlittle; it was not his way to say much at any time to the parson, andthe ecstasies about the new neighbour jarred on him. Miss Estcourt'sneed of advice must have been desperate for her to have confided inManske. He appreciated his good qualities, but his family had never beenintimate with the parson; perhaps because from time immemorial the Lohmshad been chiefly males, and the attitude of male Germans towards parsonsis, at its best, one of indulgence. This Lohm restricted his dealingswith him, as his father had done before him, to the necessarydeliberations on the treatment of the sick and poor, and to officialmeetings in the schoolhouse. He was invariably kind to him, and lent aswilling an ear as his slender purse allowed to applications forassistance; but the idea of discussing spiritual experiences with him, or, in times of personal sorrow, of dwelling conversationally on hisgriefs, would never have occurred to him. The easy familiarity withwhich Manske spoke of the Deity offended his taste. These things, thesesacred and awful mysteries, were the secrets between the soul and itsGod. No man, thought Lohm, should dare to touch with profane questioningthe veil shrouding his neighbour's inner life. Manske, however, knew nofear and no compunction. He would ask the most tremendous questionsbetween two mouthfuls of pudding, backing himself up with the wholeauthority of the Lutheran Church, besides the Scriptures; and if thepoor people and the partly educated liked it, and were edified, andenjoyed stirring up and talking over their religious emotions almost asmuch as they did the latest village scandal, Lohm, who had no tasteeither for scandal or emotions, kept the parson at arm's length. 

He thought a good deal about what Manske had told him during theafternoon. She had gone to the parson, then, for help, because there wasno one else to go to. Poor little thing. He could imagine the sort ofspeeches Manske had made her, and the sort of advertisement he wouldhave told her to write. Poor little thing. Well, what he could do was toput her in the way of getting a companion as quickly as possible, and avery sensible, capable woman it ought to be. No wonder she was not to bepast hard work. Work there would certainly be, with twelve women in thehouse undergoing the process of being made happy. Lohm could not helpsmiling at the plan. He thought of Miss Estcourt courageously trying todemolish the crust of dejection that had formed in the course of yearsover the hearts of her patients, and he trusted that she would notexhaust her own youth and joyousness in the effort. Perhaps she wouldsucceed. He did not remember having heard of any scheme quite analogous, and possibly she would override all obstacles in triumph, and thepatients who entered her home with the burden of their past misery heavyupon them, would develop in the sunshine of her presence into twelveriotously jovial ladies. But would not she herself suffer? Would not herown strength and hopefulness be sapped up by those she benefited? Hecould not think that it would be to the advantage of the world at largeto substitute twelve, nay fifty, nay any number of jolly old ladies, forone girl with such sweet and joyous eyes. 

This, of course, was the purely masculine point of view. The women to bebenefited--why he thought of them as old is not clear, for you need notbe old to be unhappy--would have protested, probably, with indignantcries that individually they were well worth Miss Estcourt, in any casewere every bit as good as she was, and collectively--oh, absurd. 

He thought of his sister Trudi. Perhaps she knew of some one who wouldbe both kind and clever, and protect Miss Estcourt in some measure fromthe twelve. Trudi's friends, it is true, were not the sort among whomstaid companions are found. Their husbands were chiefly lieutenants, andthey spent their time at races. They lived in flats in Hanover, wherethe regiment was quartered, and flats are easy to manage, and none ofthese young women would endure, he supposed, to have an elderlycompanion always hanging round. Still, there was a remote possibilitythat some one of them might be able to recommend a suitable person. IfTrudi were staying with him now she would be a great help; not so muchbecause of what she would do, but because he could go with her toKleinwalde, and Miss Estcourt could come to his house when she wantedanything, and need not depend solely on the parson. It was his duty, considering old Joachim's unchanging kindness towards him, and the painsthe old man had taken to help him in the management of his estate, andto encourage him at a time when he greatly needed help andencouragement, to do all that lay in his power for old Joachim's niece. When he heard that she was coming he had decided that this was his plainduty: that she was so pretty, so adorably pretty and simple and friendlyonly made it an unusually pleasant one. "I will write to Trudi, " hethought, "and ask her to come over for a week or two. "

He sat down at his writing-table in the big window overlooking thefarmyard, and began the letter. But he felt that it would be absurd toask her to come on Miss Estcourt's account. Why should she do anythingfor Miss Estcourt, and why should he want his sister to do anything forher? That would be the first thing that would strike the astute Trudi. So he merely wrote reminding her that she had not stayed with him sincethe previous summer, and suggested that she should come for a few dayswith her children, now that the spring was coming and the snow had gone. "The woods will soon be blue with anemones, " he wrote, though he wellknew that Trudi's attitude towards anemones was cold. Perhaps her littleboys would like to pick them; anyhow, some sort of an inducement had tobe held out. 

Outside his window was a duck-pond, thin sheets of ice still floating inbroken pieces on its surface; behind the duck-pond was the dairy; and oneither side of the yard were cow-sheds and pig-styes. The farm cartsstood in a peaceful Sunday row down one side, and at the other end ofthe yard, shutting out the same view of the sea and island that Anna sawfrom her bedroom window, was a mountainous range of manure. When Trudicame, she never entered the rooms on this side of the house, because, asshe explained, it was one of her peculiarities not to like manure; andshe slept and ate and aired her opinions on the west side, where thegarden lay between the house and the road. She never would have come toLohm at all, not being burdened with any undue sentiment in regard toties of blood, if it had not been necessary to go somewhere in thesummer, and if the other places had not been beyond the resources of thefamily purse, always at its emptiest when the racing season was over andthe card-playing at an end. As it was, this was a cheap and convenienthaven, and her brother Axel was kind to the little boys, and not tooangry when they plundered his apple-trees, damaged the knees of hisponies, and did their best to twist off the tails of his disconcertedsucking-pigs. 

He was the eldest of three brothers, and she came last. She wastwenty-six, and he was ten years older. When the father died, the landought properly to have been divided between the four children, but sucha proceeding would have been extremely inconvenient, and the two youngerbrothers, and the sister just married, agreed to accept their share inmoney, and to leave the estate entirely to Axel. It was the best courseto take, but it threw Axel into difficulties that continued for years. His father, with four times the money, had lived very comfortably atLohm, and the children had been brought up in prosperity. For eightyears his eldest son had farmed the estate with a quarter the means, andhad found it so far from simple that his hair had turned grey in theprocess. It needed considerable skill and vigilance to enable a man toextract a decent living from the soil of Lohm. Part of it was too boggy, and part of it too sandy, and the trees had all been cut down thirtyyears before by a bland grandfather, serenely indifferent to the opinionof posterity. Axel's first work had been to make plantations of youngfirs and pines wherever the soil was poorest, and when he rode throughthe beautiful Kleinwalde forest he endeavoured to extract what pleasurehe could from the thought that in a hundred years Lohm too would have aforest. But the pleasure to be extracted from this thought was of asurprisingly subdued quality. All his pleasures were of a subduedquality. His days were made up of hard work, of that effort to induceboth ends to meet which knocks the savour out of life with such asingular completeness. He was born with an uncomfortably exactconception of duty; and now at the end of the best half of his life, after years of struggling on that poor soil against the odds of thatstern climate, this conception had shaped itself into a fixed beliefthat the one thing entirely beautiful, the one thing wholly worthy of aman's ambition, is the right doing of his duty. So, he thought, shall aman have peace at the last. 

It is a way of thinking common to the educated dwellers in solitaryplaces, who have not been very successful. Trudi scorned it. "Peace, "she said, "at the last, is no good at all. What one wants is peace atthe beginning and in the middle. But you only think stuff like thatbecause you haven't got enough money. Poor people always talk about thebeauty of duty and peace at the last. If somebody left you a fortuneyou'd never mention either of them again. Or if you married a girl withmoney, now. I wish, I do wish, that _that_ duty would strike you as theone thing wholly worth doing. "

But a man who is all day and every day in his fields, who farms not forpleasure but for his bare existence, has no time to set out in search ofgirls with money, and none came up his way. Besides, he had been engageda few years before, and the girl had died, and he had not since had theleast inclination towards matrimony. After that he had worked harderthan ever; and the years flew by, filled with monotonous labour. Sometimes they were good years, and the ends not only met but lappedover a little; but generally the bare meeting of the ends was all thathe achieved. His wish was that his brother Gustav who came after himshould find the place in good order; if possible in better order thanbefore. But the working up of an estate for a brother Gustav, withwhatever determination it may be carried on, is not a labour that evokesan unflagging enthusiasm in the labourer; and Axel, however beautiful alife of duty might be to him in theory, found it, in practice, of analtogether remarkable greyness. Two-thirds of his house were shut up. Inthe evenings his servants stole out to court and be courted, and leftthe place to himself and echoes and memories. It was a house built for alarge family, for troops of children, and frequent friends. Axel sat init alone when the dusk drove him indoors, defending himself against hisremembrances by prolonged interviews with his head inspector, or azealous study of the latest work on potato diseases. 

"I see that Bibi Bornstedt is staying with your Regierungspräsident, "Trudi had written a little while before. "Now, then, is your chance. Sheis a true gold-fish. You cannot continue to howl over Hildegard's memoryfor ever. Bibi will have two hundred thousand marks a year when the oldones die, and is quite a decent girl. Her nose is a fiasco, but when youhave been married a week you will not so much as see that she has anose. And the two hundred thousand marks will still be there. _Ach_, Axel, what comfort, what consolation, in two hundred thousand marks! Youcould put the most glorious wreaths on Hildegard's tomb, besides keepingracehorses. "

Lohm suddenly remembered this letter as he sat, having finished his own, looking out of the window at two girls in Sunday splendour kissing oneof the stable boys behind a farm cart. They were all three apparentlyenjoying themselves very much, the girls laughing, the boy with anexpression at once imbecile and beatific. They thought the master's eyecould not see them there, but the master's eye saw most things. He tookup his pen again and added a postscript. "If you come soon you will beable to enjoy the society of your friend Bibi. She came on Wednesday, Ibelieve. " Then, feeling slightly ashamed of using the innocent Miss Bibias a bait to catch his sister, he wrote the advertisement for Anna, andput both letters in the post-bag. 

The effect of his postscript was precisely the one he had expected. Trudi was drinking her morning coffee in her bedroom at twelve o'clock, when the letter came. Her hair was being done by a _Friseur_, an artistin hairdressing, who rode about Hanover every day on a bicycle, hispockets bulging out with curling-tongs, and for three marks decoratedthe heads of Trudi and her friends with innumerable waves. Trudi wasdevoted to him, with the devotion naturally felt for the person on whomone's beauty depends, for he was a true artist, and really did workamazing transformations. "What! You have never had Herr Jungbluth?"Trudi cried, on the last occasion on which she met Bibi, the daughter ofa Hanover banker, and quite outside her set but for the riches thatensured her an enthusiastic welcome wherever she went, "_aber_ Bibi!"There was so much genuine surprise and compassion in this "_aber_ Bibi"that the young person addressed felt as though she had been for yearsmissing a possibility of happiness. Trudi added, as a specialrecommendation, that Jungbluth smelt of soap. He had carefully studiedthe nature of women, and if he had to do with a pretty one would find anearly opportunity of going into respectful raptures over what hedescribed as her _klassisches Profil_; and if it was a woman whose facewas not all she could have wished, he would tell her, in a tone ofsubdued enthusiasm, that her profile, as to which she had long been indoubt, was _höchst interessant_. The popularity of this young man inTrudi's set was enormous; and as all the less aristocratic Hanoverianladies hastened to imitate, Jungbluth lived in great contentment andprosperity with a young wife whose hair was reposefully straight, and ababy whose godmother was Trudi. 

"Blue woods! Anemones!" read Trudi with immense contempt. "Is the boy inhis senses? The idea of expecting me to go to that dreary place now. Ah, now I understand, " she added, turning the page, "it is Bibi--he isreally after her, and of course can get along quicker if I am there tohelp. Excellent Axel! And why did he go to the pains of trotting out theanemones? What is the use of not being frank with me? I can see throughhim, whatever he does. He is so good-natured that I am sure he will lendus heaps of Bibi's money once he has got it. _So, lieber Jungbluth_, "she said aloud, "that will do to-day. Beautiful--beautiful--better thanever. I am in a hurry. I travel to Berlin this very afternoon. "

And the next day she arrived at Stralsund, and was met by her brother atthe station. 

She greeted him with enthusiasm. "As we are here, " she said, when theywere driving through the town, "let us pay our respects to theRegierungspräsidentin. It will save our coming in again to-morrow. "

"No, I cannot to-day. I must get back as quickly as possible. The handshad their Easter ball yesterday, and when I left Lohm this morning halfof them were still in bed. "

"Well, then, the horses will have to do the journey again to-morrow, forno time should be lost. "

"Yes, you can come in to-morrow, if you long so much to see yourfriend. "

"And you?" asked Trudi, in a tone of astonishment. 

"And I? I am up to my ears now in work. Last week was the first week forfour months that we could plough. Now we have lost these three days atEaster. I cannot spare a single hour. "

"But, my dear Axel, Bibi is of far greater importance for the future ofLohm than any amount of ploughing. "

"I confess I do not see how. "

"I don't understand you. "

"Why didn't you bring the little boys?"

"What have you asked me to come here for?"

"Come, Trudi, you've not been near me for eight months. Isn't it naturalthat you should pay me a little visit?"

"No, it isn't natural at all to come to such a place in winter, andleave all the fun at home. I came because of Bibi. "

"What! You'll come for Bibi, but not for your own brother?"

"Now, Axel, you know very well that I have come for you both. "

"For us both? What would Miss Bibi say if she heard you talking ofherself and of me as 'you both'?"

"I wish you would not bother to go on like this. It's a great waste oftime. "

"So it is, my dear. Any talk about Bibi Bornstedt, as far as I amconcerned, is a hopeless waste of time. "

"Axel!"

"Trudi?"

"You don't mean to say that you are not thinking of her?"

"Thinking of her? I never let my thoughts linger round strange youngladies. "

"Then what in heaven's name have you got me here for?"

"The anemones are coming out----"

"_Ach_----"

"They really are. "

"Suppose instead of teasing me as though I were still ten and you agreat bully, you talked sensibly. The Hohensteins give a _bal masqué_to-night, and I gave it up to come to you. "

"Oh, my dear, that was really kind, " said Lohm, touched by thetremendousness of this sacrifice. 

"Then be a good boy, " said Trudi caressingly, edging herself closer tohim, "and tell me you are going to be wise about Bibi. Don't throw sucha chance away--it's positively wicked. "

"My dear Trudi, you'll have us in the ditch. It is very nice when youlean against me, but I can't drive. By the way, you remember my oldKleinwalde neighbour? The old man who spoilt you so atrociously?"

"Bibi will make a most excellent wife, " said Trudi, ungratefullyindifferent to the memory of old Joachim. "Oh, what a cold wind there isto-day. Do drive faster, Axel. What a taste, to live here and to like itinto the bargain!"

"You know that I must live here. "

"But you needn't like it. "

"You've heard that old Joachim left Kleinwalde to his English niece?"

"You have only seen Bibi once, and she grows on one tremendously. "

"I want to talk about old Joachim. "

"And I want to talk about Bibi. "

"Well, Bibi can wait. She is the younger. You know about the old man'swill?"

"I should think I did. One of his unfortunate sons has just joined ourregiment. You should hear him on the subject. "

"A most disagreeable, grasping lot, " said Lohm decidedly. "They receivedevery bit of their dues, and are all well off. Surely the old man coulddo as he liked with the one place that was not entailed?"

"It isn't the usual thing to leave one's land to a foreigner. Is shecoming to live in it?"

"She came last week. "

"Oh?" This in a tone of sudden interest. 

There was a pause. Then Trudi said, "Is she young?"

"Quite young. "

"Pretty?"

"Exceedingly pretty. "

Trudi looked up at him and smiled. 

"Well?" said Axel, smiling back at her. 

"Well?" said Trudi, continuing to smile. 

Axel laughed outright. "My dear Trudi, your astuteness terrifies me. Younot only know already why I wrote to you, but you know more reasons forthe letter than I myself dream of. I want to be able to help thisextremely helpless young lady, and I can hardly be of any use to herbecause I have no woman in the house. If I had a wife I could be of thegreatest assistance. "

"Only then you wouldn't want to be. "

"Certainly I should. "

"Pray, why?"

"Because I have a greater debt of obligations to her uncle than I canever repay to his niece. "

"Oh, nonsense--nobody pays their debts of obligations. The natural thingto do is to hate the person who has forced you to be grateful, and toget out of his way. "

"My dear Trudi, this shrewdness----" murmured her brother. Then headded, "I know perfectly well that your thoughts have already flown to awedding. Mine don't reach farther than an elderly companion. "

"Who for? For you?"

"Miss Estcourt is looking for an elderly companion, and I would begrateful to you if you would help her. "

"But the elderly companion does not exclude the wedding. "

"When you see Miss Estcourt you will understand how completely such apossibility is outside her calculations. You won't of course believethat it is outside mine. Why should you want to marry me to every girlwithin reach? Five minutes ago it was Bibi, and now it is Miss Estcourt. You do not in the least consider what views the girls themselves mighthave. Miss Estcourt is absorbed at this moment in a search for twelveold ladies. "

"Twelve----?"

"Her ambition is to spend herself and her money on twelve old ladies. She thinks happiness and money are as good for them as for herself, andwants to share her own with persons who have neither. "

"My dear Axel--is she mad?"

"She did not give me that impression. "

"And you say she is young?"

"Yes. "

"And really pretty?"

"Yes. "

"And could be so well off in that flourishing place!"

"Of course she could. "

"I'll go and call on her to-morrow, " said Trudi decidedly. 

"It will be kind of you, " said Lohm. 

"Kind! It isn't kindness, it's curiosity, " said Trudi with a laugh. "Letus be frank, and call things by their right names. "

Anna was in the garden, admiring the first crocus, when Trudi appeared. She drove Axel's cobs up to the door in what she felt was excellentstyle, and hoped Miss Estcourt was watching her from a window and wouldsee that Englishwomen were not the only sportswomen in the world. ButAnna saw nothing but the crocus. 

The wilderness down to the marsh that did duty as a garden was sosheltered and sunny that spring stopped there first each year beforegoing on into the forest; and Anna loved to walk straight out of thedrawing-room window into it, bare-headed and coatless, whenever she hadtime. Trudi saw her coming towards the house upon the servant's tellingher that a lady had called. "Nothing on, on a cold day like this!" shethought. She herself wore a particularly sporting driving-coat, with animmense collar turned up over her ears. "I wonder, " mused Trudi, watching the approaching figure, "how it is that English girls, so tidyin the clothes, so trim in the shoes, so neat in the tie and collar, never apparently brush their hair. A German Miss Estcourt vegetating inthis quiet place would probably wear grotesque and disconnectedgarments, doubtful boots and striking stockings, her figure wouldrapidly give way before the insidiousness of _Schweinebraten_, but herhair would always be beautifully done, each plait smooth and in itsproper place, each little curl exactly where it ought to be, the partinga model of straightness, and the whole well deserving to be dignified bythe name _Frisur_. English girls have hair, but they do not have_Frisurs_. "

Anna came in through the open window, and Trudi's face expanded into themost genial smiles. "How glad I am to make your acquaintance!" she criedenthusiastically. She spoke English quite as correctly as her brother, and much more glibly. "I hope you will let me help you if I can be ofany use. My brother says your uncle was so good to him. When I livedhere he was very kind to me too. How brave of you to stay here! And whatwonderful plans you have made! My brother has told me about your twelveladies. What courage to undertake to make twelve women happy. I find ithard enough work making one person happy. "

"One person? Oh, Graf Hasdorf. "

"Oh no, myself. You see, if each person devoted his energies to makinghimself happy, everybody would be happy. "

"No, they wouldn't, " said Anna, "because they do, but they're not. "

They looked at each other and laughed. "She only needs Jungbluth to beperfect, " thought Trudi; and with her usual impulsiveness beganimmediately to love her. 

Anna was delighted to meet someone of her own class and age after thesevere though short course she had had of Dellwigs and Manskes; andTrudi was so much interested in her plans, and so pressing in her offersof help, that she very soon found herself telling her all herdifficulties about servants, sheets, wall-papers, and whitewash. "Lookat this paper, " she said, "could you live in the same room with it? Noone will ever be able to feel cheerful as long as it is here. And theone in the dining-room is worse. "

"It isn't beautiful, " said Trudi, examining it, "but it is what we call_praktisch_. "

"Then I don't like what you call _praktisch_. "

"Neither do I. All the hideous things are _praktisch_--oil-cloth, blackwall-papers, handkerchiefs a yard square, thick boots, ugly women--ifever you hear a woman praised as a _praktische Frau_, be sure she'sfrightful in every way--ugly and dull. The uglier she is the_praktischer_ she is. Oh, " said Trudi, casting up her eyes, "howterrible, how tragic, to be an ugly woman!" Then, bringing her gaze downagain to Anna's face, she added, "My flat in Hanover is all pinks andblues--the most becoming rooms you can imagine. I look so nice in them. "

"Pinks and blues? That is just what I want here. Can't I get any inStralsund?"

Trudi was doubtful. She could not think it possible that anybody shouldever get anything in Stralsund. 

"But I must do my shopping there. I am in such a hurry. It would bedreadful to have to keep anyone waiting only because my house isn'tready. "

"Well, we can try, " said Trudi. "You will let me go with you, won'tyou?"

"I shall be more than grateful if you will come. "

"What do you think if we went now?" suggested Trudi, always for promptaction, and quickly tired of sitting still. "My brother said I mightdrive into Stralsund to-day if I liked, and I have the cobs here now. Don't you think it would be a good thing, as you are in such a hurry?"

"Oh, a very good thing, " exclaimed Anna. "How kind you are! You are sureit won't bore you frightfully?"

"Oh, not a bit. It will be rather amusing to go into those shops foronce, and I shall like to feel that I have helped the good work on alittle. "

Anna thought Trudi delightful. Trudi's new friends always did think herdelightful; and she never had any old ones. 

She drove recklessly, and they lurched and heaved through the sandbetween Kleinwalde and Lohm at an alarming rate. They passed Letty andMiss Leech, going for their afternoon walk, who stood on one side andstared. 

"Who's that?" asked Trudi. 

"My brother's little girl and her governess. "

"Oh yes, I heard about them. They are to stay and take care of you tillyou have a companion. Your sister-in-law didn't like Kleinwalde?"

"No. "

Trudi laughed. 

They passed Dellwig, riding, who swept off his hat with his customarydeference, and stared. 

"Do you like him?" asked Trudi. 

"Who?"

"Dellwig. I know him from the days before I married. "

"I don't know him very well yet, " said Anna, "but he seems to bevery--very polite. "

Trudi laughed again, and cracked her whip. 

"My uncle had great faith in him, " said Anna, slightly aggrieved by thelaugh. 

"Your uncle was one of the best farmers in Germany, I have always heard. He was so experienced, and so clever, that he could have led a hundredDellwigs round by the nose. Dellwig was naturally quite small, as wesay, in the presence of your uncle. He knew very well it would beuseless to be anything but immaculate under such a master. Perhaps youruncle thought he would go on being immaculate from sheer habit, withnobody to look after him. "

"I suppose he did, " said Anna doubtfully. "He told me to keep him. It'squite certain that _I_ can't look after him. "

They passed Axel Lohm, also riding. He was on Trudi's side of the road. He looked pleased when he saw Anna with his sister. Trudi whipped up thecobs, regardless of his feelings, and tore past him, scattering the sandright and left. When she was abreast of him, she winked her eye at himwith perfect solemnity. 

Axel looked stony. 

CHAPTER XI

Neither Trudi nor Anna had ever worked so hard as they did during thefew days that ended March and began April. Everything seemed to happenat once. The house was in a sudden uproar. There were peoplewhitewashing, people painting, people putting up papers, people bringingthings in carts from Stralsund, people trimming up the garden, peoplecoming out to offer themselves as servants, Dellwig coming in andshouting, Manske coming round and glorifying--Anna would have beencompletely bewildered if it had not been for Trudi, who was with her allday long, going about with a square of lace and muslin tucked under herwaist-ribbon which she felt was becoming and said was an apron. 

Trudi was enjoying herself hugely. She saw Jungbluth's waves slowlystraightening themselves out of her hair, and for the first time in herlife remained calm as she watched them go. She even began to haveaspirations towards Uncle Joachim's better life herself, and more thanonce entered into a serious consideration of the advantages that mightresult from getting rid at one stroke of Bill her husband, and Billy andTommy her two sons, and from making a fresh start as one of Anna'stwelve. 

Frau Manske and Frau Dellwig could not face her infinitesuperciliousness more than once, and kept out of the way in spite oftheir burning curiosity. When Dellwig's shouts became intolerable, shedid not hesitate to wince conspicuously and to put up her hand to herhead. When Manske forgot that it was not Sunday, and began to preach, she would interrupt him with a brisk "_Ja, ja, sehr schön, sehr schön, aber lieber Herr Pastor_, you must tell us all this next Sunday inchurch when we have time to listen--my friend has not a minute now inwhich to appreciate the opinions of the _Apostel Paulus_. "

"I believe you are being unkind to my parson, " said Anna, who could notalways understand Trudi's rapid German, but saw that Manske went awaydejected. 

"My dear, he must be kept in his place if he tries to come out of it. You don't know what a set these pastors are. They are not like yourclergymen. If you are too kind to that man you'll have no peace. Iremember in my father's time he came to dinner every Sunday, sat at thebottom of the table, and when the pudding appeared made a bow and wentaway. "

"He didn't like pudding?"

"I don't know if he liked it or not, but he never got any. It was a goodold custom that the pastor should withdraw before the pudding, and Axelhas not kept it up. My father never had any bother with him. "

"But what has the pudding that he didn't get ten years ago to do withyour being unkind to him now?"

"I wanted to explain the proper footing for him to be on. "

"And the proper footing is a puddingless one? Well, in my house neitherpudding nor kindness in suitable quantities shall be withheld from him, so don't ill-use him more than you feel is absolutely necessary for hisgood. "

"Oh, you are a dear little thing!" said Trudi, putting her hands onAnna's shoulders and looking into her eyes--they were both tall youngwomen, and their eyes were on a level--"I wonder what the end of youwill be. When you know all these people better you'll see that my way oftreating them, which you think unkind, is the only way. You must turn upyour nose as high as it will go at them, and they will burst withrespect. Don't be too friendly and confiding--they won't understand it, and will be sure to think that something must be wrong about you, andwill begin to backbite you, and invent all sorts of horrid stories aboutyou. And as for the pastor, why should he be allowed to treat your roomsas though they were so many pulpits, and you as though you had neverheard of the _Apostel Paulus_?"

Anna admitted that she was not always in the proper frame of mind forthese unprovoked sermons, but refused to believe in the necessity forturning up her nose. She ostentatiously pressed Manske, the very nexttime he came, to stay to the evening meal, which was rather of thenature of a picnic in those unsettled days, but at which, for Letty'ssake, there was always a pudding; and she invited him to eat puddingthree times running, and each time he accepted the offer; and each time, when she had helped him, she fixed her eyes with a defiant gravity onTrudi's face. 

Axel came in sometimes when he had business at the farm, and was shownwhat progress had been made. Trudi was as interested as though it hadbeen her own house, and took him about, demanding his approval andadmiration with an enthusiasm that spread to Anna, and she and Axel soonbecame good friends. The Stralsund wall-papers were so dreadful thatAnna had declared she would have most of the rooms whitewashed; the hallhad been done, exchanging its pea-green coat for one of virgin purity, and she had thought it so fresh and clean, and so appropriate to thesimplicity of the better life, that to the amazement of the workmen sheinsisted on the substitution of whitewash in both dining anddrawing-room for the handsome chocolate-coloured papers already in thoserooms. 

"The twelve will think it frightful, " said Trudi. 

"But why?" asked Anna, who had fallen in love with whitewash. "It ispurity itself. It will be symbolical of the innocence and cleanlinessthat will be in our hearts when we have got used to each other, and arehappy. "

Trudi looked again at the hall, into which the afternoon sun wasstreaming. It did look very clean, certainly, and exceedingly cheerful;she was sure, however, that it would never be symbolical of any heartthat came into it. But then Trudi was sceptical about hearts. 

At the end of Easter week, when Trudi was beginning to feel slightlytired of whitewash and scrambled meals, and to have doubts as to thepermanent becomingness of aprons, and misgivings as to the effect on hercomplexion of running about a cold house all day long, answers to theadvertisements began to arrive, and soon arrived in shoals. Theseletters acted as bellows on the flickering flame of her zeal. She foundthem extraordinarily entertaining, and would meet Manske in the hallwhen he brought them round, and take them out of his hands, and run withthem to Anna, leaving him standing there uncertain whether he ought tostay and be consulted, or whether it was expected of him that he shouldgo home again without having unburdened himself of all the advice hefelt that he contained. He deplored what he called _das impulsiveTemperament_ of the Gräfin. Always had she been so, since the days sheclimbed his cherry-trees and helped the birds to strip them; and when, with every imaginable precaution, he had approached her father on thesubject, and carefully excluding the word cherry hinted that theclimbing of trees was a perilous pastime for young ladies, old Lohm hadburst into a loud laugh, and had sworn that neither he nor anyone elsecould do anything with Trudi. He actually had seemed proud that sheshould steal cherries, for he knew very well why she climbed the trees, and predicted a brilliant future for his only daughter; to which Manskehad listened respectfully as in duty bound, and had gone homeunconvinced. 

But Anna did not let him stand long in the hall, and came to fetch himand beg him to help her read the letters and tell her what he thought ofthem. In spite of Trudi's advice and example she continued to treat thepastor with the deference due to a good and simple man. What did itmatter if he talked twice as much as he need have done, and wearied herwith his habit of puffing Christianity as though it were a quackmedicine of which he was the special patron? He was sincere, he reallybelieved something, and really felt something, and after five days withTrudi Anna turned to Manske's elementary convictions with relief. Infive days she had come to be very glad that Trudi stood in no need of aplace among the twelve. 

Most of the women who wrote in answer to the advertisement sentphotographs, and their letters were pitiful enough, either because ofwhat they said or because of what they tried to hide; and Anna'sappreciation of Trudi received a great shock when she found that theletters amused her, and that the photographs, especially those of theold ones or the ugly ones, moved her to a mirth little short ofunseemly. After all, Trudi was taking a great deal upon herself, Annathought, reading the letters unasked, helping her to open them unasked, hurrying down to fetch them unasked, and deluging her with advice aboutthem unasked. She saw she had made a mistake in allowing her to see themat all. She had no right to expose the petitions of these unhappycreatures to Trudi's inquisitive and diverted eyes. This fact was madevery patent to her when one of the letters that Trudi opened turned outto be from a person she had known. "Why, " cried Trudi, her facetwinkling with excitement, "here's one from a girl who was at schoolwith me. And her photo, too--what a shocking scarecrow she has growninto! She is only two years older than I am, but might be forty. Justlook at her--and she used to think none of us were good enough for her. Don't have her, whatever you do--she married one of the officers inBill's first regiment, and treated him so shamefully that he shothimself. Imagine her boldness in writing like this!" And she beganeagerly to read the letter. 

Anna got up and took it out of her hands. It was an unexpected action, or Trudi would have held on tighter. "She never dreamed you would seewhat she wrote, " said Anna, "and it would be dishonourable of me to letyou. And the other letters too--I have been thinking it over--they areonly meant for me; and no one else, except perhaps the parson, ought tosee them. "

"Except perhaps the parson!" cried Trudi, greatly offended. "And whyexcept perhaps the parson?"

"I can't always read the German writing, " explained Anna. 

"But surely a woman of your own age, who isn't such a simpleton as theparson, is the best adviser you can have. "

"But you laugh at the letters, and they are all so unhappy. "

Trudi went back to Lohm early that day. "She has taken it into her headthat I am not to read the letters, " she said to her brother with nolittle indignation. 

"It would be a great breach of confidence if she allowed you to, " hereplied; which was so unsatisfactory that she drove into Stralsund thatvery afternoon, and consoled herself with the pliable Bibi. 

Bibi's nose seemed more unsuccessful than ever after having had Anna'sbefore her for nearly a week; but then the richness of the girl! Andsuch a good-natured, generous girl, who would adore her sister-in-lawand make her presents. Contemplating the good Bibi in her afternoonsplendour from Paris, Trudi's heart stirred within her at the thought ofall that was within Axel's reach if only he could be induced to put outhis hand and take it. Anna would never marry him, Trudi wascertain--would never marry anyone, being completely engrossed by herphilanthropic follies; but if she did, what was her probable incomecompared to Bibi's? And Axel would never look at Bibi so long as thatother girl lived next door to him; nobody could expect him to. Anna wastoo pretty; it was not fair. And Bibi was so very plain; which was notfair either. 

The Regierungspräsidentin, a cousin by marriage of Bibi's, but a memberof an ancient family of the Mark, was delighted to see Trudi and toquestion her about the new and eccentric arrival. Trudi had offered totake Anna to call on this lady, and had explained that it was her dutyto call; but Anna had said there was no hurry, and had talked of someday, and had been manifestly bored by the prospect of making newacquaintances. 

"Is she quite--quite in her right senses?" asked theRegierungspräsidentin, when Trudi had described all they had been doingin Anna's house, and all Anna meant to do with her money, and had madeher description so smart and diverting that the Regierungspräsidentin, an alert little lady, with ears perpetually pricked up in the hope ofcatching gossip, felt that she had not enjoyed an afternoon so much foryears. 

Bibi sat listening with her mouth wide open. It was an artless way ofhers when she was much interested in a conversation, and was deplored bythose who wished her well. 

"Oh, yes, she is quite in her senses. Rather too sure she knows best, always, but quite in her senses. "

"Then she is very religious?"

"Not in the ordinary way, I should think. She goes in for nature. _Gottin der Natur_, and that sort of thing. If the sun shines more than usualshe goes and stands in it, and turns up her eyes and gushes. There's acrocus in the garden, and when we came to it yesterday she stopped infront of it and rhapsodised for ten minutes about things that havenothing to do with crocuses--chiefly about the _lieben Gott_. And all inEnglish, of course, and it sounds worse in English. "

"But then, my dear, she _is_ religious?"

"Oh, well, the pastor would not call it religion. It's a sort ofhuddle-muddle pantheism as far as it is anything at all. " From which itwill be seen that Trudi was even more frank about her friends behindtheir backs than she was to their faces. 

She drove back to Lohm in a discontented frame of mind. "What's the goodof anything?" was the mood she was in. She had over-tired herselfhelping Anna, and she was afraid that being so much in cold rooms andpassages, and washing in hard water, had made her skin coarse. She hadcaught sight of herself in a glass as she was leaving theRegierungspräsidentin, and had been disconcerted by finding that she didnot look as pretty as she felt. Nor was she consoled for this by theconsciousness that she had been unusually amusing at Anna's expense; forshe was only too certain that the Regierungspräsidentin, when repeatingall she had told her to her friends, would add that Trudi Hasdorf hadterribly _eingepackt_--dreadful word, descriptive of the faded stateimmediately preceding wrinkles, and held in just abhorrence by everyself-respecting woman. Of what earthly use was it to be cleverer andmore amusing than other people if at the same time you had _eingepackt_?

"What a stupid world it is, " thought Trudi, driving along the _chaussée_in the early April twilight. A mist lay over the sea, and the palesickle of the young moon rose ghost-like above the white shroud. Inlandthe stars were faintly shining, and all the earth beneath was damp andfragrant. It was Saturday evening, and the two bells of Lohm church wereplaintively ringing their reminder to the countryside that the week'swork was ended and God's day came next. "Oh, the stupid world, " thoughtTrudi. "If I stay here I shall be bored to death--that Estcourt childand her governess have got on to my nerves--horrid fat child withturned-in toes, and flabby, boneless woman, only held together by herhairpins. I am sick of governesses and children--wherever one goes, there they are. If I go home, there are those noisy little boys andFräulein Schultz worrying all day, and then there's that tiresome Billcoming in to meals. Anna and Bibi are just in the position I would liketo be in--no husbands and children, and lots of money. " And staringstraight before her, with eyes dark with envy, she fell into gloomymusings on the beauty of Bibi's dress, and the blindness of fate, throwing away a dress like that on a Bibi, when it was so eminentlysuited to tall, slim women like herself; and it was fortunate for Axel'speace that when she reached Lohm the first thing she saw was a letterfrom the objectionable Bill telling her to come home, because theforeign prince who was honorary colonel of the regiment was expectedimmediately in Hanover, and there were to be great doings in his honour. 

She left, all smiles, the next morning by the first train. 

"Miss Estcourt will miss you, " said Axel, "and will wonder why you didnot say good-bye. I am afraid your journey will be unpleasant, too, to-day. I wish you had stayed till to-morrow. "

"Oh, I don't mind the Sunday people once in a way, " said Trudi gaily. "And please tell Anna how it was I had to go so suddenly. I have startedher, at least, with the workmen and people she wants. I shall see her ina few weeks again, you know, when Bill is at the man[oe]uvres. "

"A few weeks! Six months. "

"Well, six months. You must both try to exist without me for that time. "

"You seem very pleased to be off, " he said, smiling, as she climbedbriskly into the dog-cart and took the reins, while her maid, with herarms full of bags, was hoisted up behind. 

"Oh, so pleased!" said Trudi, looking down at him with sparkling eyes. "Princes and parties are jollier any day than whitewash and the betterlife. "

"And brothers. "

"Oh--brothers. By the way, I never saw Bibi look better than she didyesterday. She has improved so much nobody would know----"

"You will miss your train, " said Axel, pulling out his watch. 

"Well, good-bye then, _alter Junge_. Work hard, do your duty, and don'tlet your thoughts linger too much round strange young ladies. They neverdo, I think you said? Well, so much the better, for it's no good, nogood, no good!" And Trudi, who was in tremendous spirits, put her whipto the brim of her hat by way of a parting salute, touched up the cobs, and rattled off down the drive on the road to Jungbluth and glory. Sheturned her head before she finally disappeared, to call back heroracular "No good!" once again to Axel, who stood watching her from thesteps of his solitary house. 

CHAPTER XII

So Anna was left to herself again. She was astonished at the rapidity ofTrudi's movements. Within one week she had heard of her, met her, likedher, begun to like her less, and lost her. She had flashed across theKleinwalde horizon, and left a trail of workmen and new servants behind, with whom Anna was now occupied, unaided, from morning till night. MissLeech and Letty did all they could, but their German being restricted toquotations from the _Erl-König_ and the _Lied von der Glocke_, it couldnot be brought to bear with any profitable results on the workmen. Theservants, too, were a perplexity to Anna. Their cheapness wasextraordinary, but their quality curious. Her new parlourmaid--for shefelt unequal to coping with German men-servants--wore her arms naked allday long. Anna thought she had tucked up her sleeves in her zeal forthoroughness, but when she appeared with the afternoon coffee--the localtea was undrinkable--she still had bare arms; and, examining her moreclosely, Anna saw that it was her usual state, for her dress wassleeveless. Nor was her want of sleeves her only peculiarity. Anna beganto wonder whether her house would ever be ready for the twelve. 

The answers to the philanthropic advertisement were in a proportion offifty to one answer to the advertisement for a companion. There werefifty ladies without means willing to be idle, to one lady without meanswilling to work. It worried Anna terribly, being obliged by want of roomand money to limit the number to twelve. She could hardly bear to readthe letters, knowing that nearly all had to be rejected. "See how manysad lives are being dragged through while we are so comfortable, " shesaid to Manske, when he brought round fresh piles of letters to add tothose already heaped on her table. 

He shook his head in perplexity. He was bewildered by the masses ofanswers, by the apparent universality of impoverishment and hopelessnessamong Christian ladies of good family. 

He could not come himself more than once a day, and the letters arrivedby every post; so in the afternoon he sent Herr Klutz, the young clericof poetic promptings, who had celebrated Anna on her arrival in a poemwhich for freshness and spontaneousness equalled, he considered, thebest sonnets that had ever been written. What a joy it was to a youth ofimagination, to a poet who thought his features not unlike Goethe's, andwho regarded it as by no means an improbability that his brain shouldturn out to be stamped with the same resemblance, to walk daily throughthe gleaming, whispering forest, swinging his stick and composingsnatches not unworthy of her of whom they treated, his face towards themagic _Schloss_ and its enchanted princess, and his pockets full of herletters! Herr Klutz's coat was clerical, but his brown felt hat and theflower in his buttonhole were typical of the worldliness within. "Apoet, " he assured himself often, "is a citizen of the world, and is notto be narrowed down to any one circle or creed. " But he did not expoundthis view to the good man who was helping him to prepare for theexamination that would make him a full-fledged pastor, and received hisfrequent blessings, and assisted at prayers and intercessions of whichhe was the subject, with outward decorum. 

The first time he brought the letters, Anna received him with her usualkindness; but there was something in his manner that displeased her, whether it was self-assurance, or conceit, or a way he had of looking ather, she could not tell, nor did she waste many seconds trying todecide; but the next day when he came he was not admitted to herpresence, nor the next after that, nor for some time to come. Thissurprised Herr Klutz, who was of Dellwig's opinion that the mostsuperior woman was not equal to the average man; and take away anyadvantage of birth or position or wealth that she might possess, why, there she was, only a woman, a creature made to be conquered and broughtinto obedience to man. Being young and poetic he differed from Dellwigon one point: to Dellwig, woman was a servant; to Klutz, an admirabletoy. Clearly such a creature could only be gratified by opportunities ofseeing and conversing with members of the opposite sex. The Miss'sconduct, therefore, in allowing her servant to take the letters from himat the door, puzzled him. 

He often met Miss Leech and Letty on his way to or from Kleinwalde, andalways stopped to speak to them and to teach them a few German sentencesand practise his own small stock of English; and from them he easilydiscovered all that the young woman he favoured with his admiration wasdoing. Lohm, riding over to Kleinwalde to settle differences betweenDellwig and the labourers, or to try offenders, met these three severaltimes, and supposed that Klutz must be courting the governess. 

The day Trudi left, Lohm had gone round to Anna and delivered hissister's message in a slightly embellished form. "You will haveeverything to do now unassisted, " he said. "I do trust that in anydifficulty you will let me help you. If the workmen are insolent, forinstance, or if your new servants are dishonest or in any way give youtrouble. You know it is my duty as Amtsvorsteher to interfere when suchthings happen. "

"You are very kind, " said Anna gratefully, looking up at the grave, goodface, "but no one is insolent. And look--here is some one who wants tocome as companion. It is the first of the answers to that advertisementthat pleases me. "

Lohm took the letter and photograph and examined them. "She is aPenheim, I see, " he said. "It is a very good family, but some of itsbranches have been reduced to poverty, as so many of our old familieshave been. "

"Don't you think she would do very well?"

"Yes, if she is and does all she says in her letter. You might proposethat she should come at first for a few weeks on trial. You may not likeher, and she may not appreciate philanthropic housekeeping. "

Anna laughed. "I am doubly anxious to get someone soon, " she said, "because my sister-in-law wants Letty and Miss Leech. "

Letty and Miss Leech heaved tragic sighs at this; they had no desirewhatever to go home. 

"Will you not feel rather forlorn when they are gone, and you are quitealone among strangers?"

"I shall miss them, but I don't mean to be forlorn, " said Anna, smiling. 

"The courage of the little thing!" thought Lohm. "Ready to braveanything in pursuit of her ideals. It makes one ashamed of one's owngrumblings and discouragements. "

Anna arranged with Frau von Penheim that she should come at once on athree months' trial; and immediately this was settled she wrote to Susieto ask what day Letty was to be sent home. She had had no communicationwith Susie since that angry lady's departure. To Peter she had written, explaining her plans and her reasons, and her hopes and yearnings, andhad received a hasty scrawl in reply dated from Estcourt, conveying hisblessing on herself and her scheme. "Susie came straight down here, " hewrote, "because of the Alderton wedding to which she was not asked, andwent to bed. You know, my dear little sister, anything that makes youhappy contents me. I wish you could have seen your way to benefitingreduced English ladies, for you are a long way off; but of course youhave the house free over there. Don't let Miss Leech leave you till youare perfectly satisfied with your companion. Yesterday I landed thebiggest----" etc. In a word, Peter, in accordance with his invariablecustom, was on her side. 

The day before Frau von Penheim was to arrive, Susie's answer to Anna'sletter came. Here it is:--

 "DEAR ANNA, --Your letter surprised me, though I might have known by now what to expect of you. --Still, I was surprised that you should not even offer to make the one return in your power for all I have done for you. As I feel I have a right to some return I don't hesitate to tell you that I think you ought to keep Letty for a year or two, or even longer. Even if you kept her till she is eighteen, and dressed her and fed her (don't feed her too much), it would only be four years; and what are four years I should like to know, compared to the fifteen I had you on my hands? I was talking to Herr Schumpf about her the other day--his bills were so absurd that I made him take something off--and he said by all means let her stay in Germany. Everybody speaks German nowadays, and Letty will pick it up at once in that awful place of yours. I was so ill when I got back that I went to Estcourt, and had to stay in bed for days, the doctor coming every day, and sometimes twice. He said he didn't wonder, when I told him all I had gone through. Peter was quite sorry for me. Send Miss Leech back. Give her a month's notice for me the day you get this, and see if you can't find some German who will go to your place--I can't remember its wretched name without looking in my address book--and give Letty lessons every day. The rest of the time she can talk German to your twelve victims. I believe masters in Germany only charge about 6d. An hour, so it won't ruin you. Make her take lots of exercise, and let her ride. She has outgrown her old habit, but German tailors are so cheap that a new one will cost next to nothing, and any horse that shakes her up well will do. I shall be quite happy about her diet, because I know you don't have anything to eat. I was at the Ennistons' last night. They seemed very sorry for me being so nearly related to somebody cracked; but after all, as I tell people, I'm not responsible for my husband's relations. --Your affectionate, SUSIE ESTCOURT. 

 "I have never seen Hilton so upset as she was after that German trip. She cried if anyone looked at her. Poor thing, no wonder. The doctor says she is all nerves. "

The evening meal was in progress at Kleinwalde when this letter came. The dining-room was finished, and it was the first meal served theresince its transformation. No one who had seen it on that dark day ofAnna's arrival would have recognised it, so cheerful did it look withits whitewashed walls. There were no dark corners now where chinashepherds smiled in vain; the western light filled it, and to a personlately come from Susie's Hill Street house, it was a refreshment to sitin any place so simple and so clean. Reforms, too, had been made in thefood, and the bread was no longer disfigured by caraway seeds. A greatbowl of blue hepaticas, fresh from the forest, stood on the table; andthe hepaticas were the exact colour of Anna's eyes. When Letty saw hermother's handwriting she turned cold. It was the warrant that was tobanish her from Eden, casting her back into the outer darkness of thePopular Concerts and the literature lectures. She was in the act ofraising a spoonful of pudding to her already opened mouth, when shecaught sight of the well-known writing. She hesitated, her hand shook, and finally she laid her spoon down again and pushed her plate back. Atthe great crises of life who can go on eating pudding? What then was herrelief and joy to see her aunt get up, come round to where she wassitting braced to hear the worst, put her arms round her neck, and tofeel herself being kissed. "You are going to stay with me after all!"cried Anna delightedly. "Dear little Letty--I should have missed youhorribly. Aren't you glad? Your mother says I'm to keep you for ever solong. "

"Oh, I say--how ripping!" exclaimed Letty; and being a practical personat once resumed and finished her pudding. 

Miss Leech, too, looked exceedingly pleased. How could she be anythingbut pleased at the prospect of staying with a person who was always sokind and thoughtful as Anna? Her feelings, somehow, were never hurt byAnna; Lady Estcourt seemed to have a special knack of jumping on themevery time she spoke to her. She knew she ought not to have suchsensitive feelings, and felt that it was more her fault than anyoneelse's if they were hurt; yet there they were, and being hurt waspainful, and living with someone so even tempered as Anna was verypeaceful and pleasant. Mr. Jessup would have liked Anna. She wished hecould have known her. A higher compliment it was not in Miss Leech'spower to pay. 

And when Anna saw the pleasure on Miss Leech's face, and saw that shethought she was to stay too, she felt that for no sister-in-law in theworld would she wipe it out with that month's notice. She decided to saynothing, but simply to keep her as well as Letty. Her two thousand ayear was in her eyes of infinite elasticity. Never having had any money, she had no notion of how far it would go; and she did not hesitate tocome to a decision which would probably ultimately oblige her to reducethe number of those persons Susie described as victims. 

The next day the companion arrived. Anna went out into the hall to meether when she heard the approaching wheels of the shepherd-plaid chariot. She felt rather nervous as she watched her emerging from beneath thehood, for she knew how much of the comfort and peace of the twelve woulddepend on this lady. She felt exceedingly nervous when the lady, immediately upon shaking hands, asked if she could speak to her alone. 

"_Natürlich, _" said Anna, a vague fear lest Fritz, the coachman, should have insulted her on the way coming over her, though she onlyknew Fritz as the mildest of men. 

She led the way into the drawing-room. "Now what is she going to tell medreadful?" she thought, as she invited her to sit on the sofa, havingbeen instructed by Trudi that that was the place where strangersexpected to sit. "Suppose she isn't going to stay, and I shall have tolook for someone all over again? Perhaps the lining of the carriage hasbeen too much for her. _Bitte_" she said aloud, with an uneasy smile, motioning Frau von Penheim towards the sofa. 

The new companion was a big, elderly lady with a sensible face. Herboots were thick, and she wore a mackintosh. She sat down, and lookingmore attentively at Anna, smiled. Most people who saw her for the firsttime did that. It was such a change and a pleasure after seeing plainfaces, and dull faces, and vain, pretty faces for an indefinite period, to rest one's eyes on a person so charming yet manifestly preoccupied byother matters than her charms. 

"I feel it my duty, " said the lady in German, "before we go any furtherto tell you the truth. "

This was alarming. The lady's manner was solemn. Anna inclined her head, and felt scared. She wished that Axel Lohm were somewhere near. 

"I see you are young, " continued the lady, "and I presume that you areinexperienced. "

"Not so young, " murmured Anna, who felt particularly young anduncomfortable at that moment, and very unlike the mistress of a houseinterviewing a companion. "Not so young--twenty-five. "

"Twenty-five? You do not look it. But what is twenty-five?"

Anna did not know, so said nothing. 

"My position here would be a responsible one, " continued the lady, scrutinising Anna's face, and smiling again at what she saw there. "Taking charge of a motherless girl always is. And the circumstances inthis case are peculiar. "

"Yes, " said Anna, "they are even more peculiar than you imagine----" Andshe was about to explain the approaching advent of the victims, when thelady held up her hand in a masterful way, as though enjoining silence, and said, "First hear me. Through a series of misfortunes I have beenreduced to poverty since my husband's death. But I do not choose to liveon the charity of relatives, which is the most unbearable form ofcharity calling itself by that holy name, and I am determined to workfor my bread. "

She paused. Anna could find nothing better to say than "Oh. "

"Out of consideration for my relatives, who are enraged at myresolution, and think I ought to starve quietly on what they choose togive me sooner than make myself conspicuous by working, I have calledmyself Frau von Penheim. I will not come here under false pretences, andto you, privately, I will confess that my proper title is the PrincessLudwig, of that house. "

She stopped to observe the effect of this announcement. Anna wasconfounded. A princess was not at all what she wanted. She felt that shehad no use whatever for princesses. How could she ever expect one to getup early and see that the twelve received their meat in due season?"Oh, " she said again, and then was silent. 

The princess watched her closely. She was very poor, and very anxious tohave the place. "'Oh' is so English, " she said, smiling to hide heranxiety. "We say '_ach_!"

Anna laughed. 

"And do not think that all German princesses are like your Englishones, " she went on eagerly. "My father-in-law was raised to the rank ofFürst for services rendered to the state. He had a large family, and myhusband was a younger son. "

Still Anna was silent. Then she said "I--I wish----" and then stopped. 

"What do you wish, my dear child?"

"I wish--that I--that you----"

"That you had known it beforehand? Then you would never have taken me, even on trial, " was the prompt reply. 

Anna's eyes said plainly, "No, I would not. "

"And it is so important that I should find something to do. At first Ianswered advertisements in my real name, and received my photograph backby the next post. This, and the anger of my family, decided me to dropthe title altogether. But I had always resolved that if I did find aplace I would confess to my employer. It is a terrible thing to be verypoor, " she added, staring straight before her with eyes growing dim ather remembrances. 

"Yes, " said Anna, under her breath. 

"To have nothing, nothing at all, and to be burdened at the same time byone's birth. "

"Oh, " murmured Anna, with a little catch in her voice. 

"And to be dependent on people who only wish that you were safely out ofthe way--dead. "

"Married, " whispered Anna. 

"Why, what do you know about it?" said the princess, turning quickly toher; for she had been thinking aloud rather than addressing anyone. 

"I know everything about it, " said Anna; and in a rush of bad but eagerGerman she told her of those old days when even the sweeping ofcrossings had seemed better than living on relations, and how since thenall her heart had been filled with pity for the type of poverty calledgenteel, and how now that she was well off she was going to help womenwho were in the same sad situation in which she had been. Her eyes werewet when she finished. She had spoken with extraordinary enthusiasm, afresh wave of passionate sympathy with such lives passing over her; andnot until she had done did she remember that she had never before seenthis lady, and that she was saying things to her that she had not as yetsaid to the most intimate of her friends. 

She felt suddenly uncomfortable; her eyelashes quivered and drooped, andshe blushed. 

The princess contemplated her curiously. "I congratulate you, " she said, laying her hand lightly for a moment on Anna's. "The idea and the goodintentions will have been yours, whatever the result may be. "

This was not very encouraging as a response to an outburst. "I have toldyou more than I tell most people, " Anna said, looking up shamefacedly, "because you have had much the same experiences that I have. "

"Except the uncle at the end. He makes such a difference. May I ask ifmany of the ladies answered _both_ advertisements?"

"No, they did not. "

"Not one?"

"Not one. "

The princess thought that working for one's bread was distinctlypreferable to taking Anna's charity; but then she was of an unusuallysturdy and independent nature. "I can assure you, " she said after ashort silence, "that I would do my best to look after your house andyour--your friends and yourself. "

"But I want someone who will do _everything_--order the meals, train theservants--everything. And get up early besides, " said Anna, her voicefull of doubt. The princess really belonged, she felt, to the categoryof sad, sick, and sorry; and if she had asked for a place among thetwelve there would have been little difficulty in giving her one. Butthe companion she had imagined was to be a real help, someone she couldorder about as she chose, certainly not a person unused to being orderedabout. Even the parson's sister-in-law Helena would have been betterthan this. 

"I would do all that, naturally. Do you think if I am not too proud totake wages that I shall be too proud to do the work for which they arepaid?"

"Would you not prefer----" began Anna, and hesitated. 

"Would I not prefer what, my child?"

"Prefer to--would it not be more agreeable for you to come and live herewithout working? I could find another companion, and I would be happy ifyou will stay here as--as one of the others. "

The princess laughed; a hearty, big laugh in keeping with her bigperson. 

"No, " she said. "I would not like that at all. But thank you, dearchild, for making the offer. Let me stay here and do what work you wantdone, and then you pay me for it, and we are quits. I assure you thereis a solid satisfaction in being quits. I shall certainly not expect anymore consideration than you would give to a Frau Schultz. And I will beable to take care of you; and I think, if you will not be angry with mefor saying so, that you greatly need taking care of. "

"Well, then, " said Anna, with an effort, "let us try it for threemonths. "

An immense load was lifted off the princess's heart by these words. "Youwill not regret it, " she said emphatically. 

But Anna was not so sure. Though she did her best to put a cheerful faceon her new bargain, she could not help fearing that her enterprise hadbegun badly. She was unusually pensive throughout the evening. 

CHAPTER XIII

What the Princess Ludwig thought of her new place it would be difficultto say. She accepted her position as minister to the comforts of thehitherto comfortless without remark and entirely as a matter of course. She got up at hours exemplary in their earliness, and was about thehouse rattling a bunch of keys all day long. She was wholly practical, and as destitute of illusions as she was of education in the ordinarysense. Her knowledge of German literature was hardly more extensive thanLetty's, and of other tongues and other literatures she knew and carednothing. As for illusions, she saw things as they are, and had never atany period of her life possessed enthusiasms. Nor had she the leasttaste for hidden meanings and symbols. Maeterlinck, if she had heard ofhim, would have been dismissed by her with an easy smile. Anna'swhitewash to her was whitewash; a disagreeable but economicalwall-covering. She knew and approved of it as cheap; how could she dreamthat it was also symbolic? She never dreamed at all, either sleeping orwaking. If by some chance she had fallen into musings, she would havemused blood and iron, the superiority of the German nation, cookery inits three forms _feine_, _bürgerliche_, and _Hausmannskost_, in allwhich forms she was preëminent in skill--she would have mused, that is, on facts, plain and undisputed. If she had had children she would havemade an excellent mother; as it was she made excellent cakes--also aform of activity to be commended. She was a Dettingen before hermarriage, and the Dettingens are one of the oldest Prussian families, and have produced more first-rate soldiers and statesmen and a largernumber of mothers of great men than any other family in that part. ThePenheims and Dettingens had intermarried continually, and it was to hismother's Dettingen blood that the first [German: Fürst] Penheim owed theenergy that procured him his elevation. Princess Ludwig was a goodexample of the best type of female Dettingen. Like many otherilliterates, she prided herself particularly on her sturdy common sense. Regarding this quality, which she possessed, as more precious thanothers which she did not possess, she was not likely to sympathise mucheither with Anna's plan for making people happy, or with those who werewilling to be made happy in such a way. A sensible woman, she thought, will always find work, and need not look far for a home. She herself hadbeen handicapped in the search by her unfortunate title, yet withpatience even she had found a haven. Only the lazy and lackadaisical, the morally worthless, that is, would, she was convinced, accept such anoffer as Anna's. It was not, however, her business. Her business was tolook after Anna's house; and she did it with a zeal and thoroughnessthat struck terror into the hearts of the maid-servants. Trudi's fitfulenergy was nothing to it. Trudi had introduced workmen and chaos; theprincess, with a rapidity and skill little short of amazing to anyoneunacquainted with the capabilities of the well-trained German_Hausfrau_, cleared out the workmen and reduced the chaos to order. Within three weeks the house was ready, and Anna, palpitating, saw themoment approaching when the first batch of unhappy ones might bereceived. 

Manske's time was entirely taken up writing letters of inquiryconcerning the applicants, and it was surprising in what huge batchesthey had to be weeded out. Of fifty applications received in one day, three or four, after due inquiry, would alone remain for furtherconsideration; and of these three or four, after yet closer inquiry, sometimes not one would be left. 

At first Anna asked the princess's advice as well as Manske's, and itwas when she was present at the consultations that the heap into whichthe letters of the unworthy were gathered was biggest. All those ladiesbelonging to the _bürgerliche_ or middle classes were in her eyes whollyunworthy. If Anna had proposed to take washerwomen into her home, andrequired the princess's help in brightening their lives, it would havebeen given in the full measure, pressed down and running over, thatbefits a Christian gentlewoman; but for the _Bürgerlichen_, thosebelonging to the class more immediately below her own, the princess'sfeeling was only Christian so long as they kept a great way off. Therewas so much good sense in the objections she made that Anna, who did herbest to keep an open mind and listen attentively to advice, was forcedto agree with her, and added letters to the ever-increasing heap of therejected which she might otherwise have reserved for riperconsideration. After two or three days, however, it became clear to herthat if she continued to consult the princess, no one would be acceptedat all, for Manske's respect for that lady was so profound that he wasinvariably of her opinion. She did not, therefore, invite her again toassist at the interviews. Still, all she had said, and the knowledgethat she must know her own countrywomen fairly thoroughly, made Annaprudent; and so it came about that the first arrivals were to be onlythree in number, chosen without reference to the princess, and one ofthem was _bürgerlich_. 

"We can meanwhile proceed with our inquiries about the remaining nine, "said Manske, "and the gracious Miss will be always gaining experience. "

She trod on air during the days preceding the arrival of the chosen. Tosay that she was blissful would be but an inadequate description of herstate of mind. The weather was beautiful, and it increased her happinesstenfold to know that their new life was to begin in sunshine. She hadnever a doubt as to their delight in the sun-chequered forest, in thefreshness of the glittering sea, in the peacefulness of the quietcountry life, so quiet that the week seemed to be all Sundays. Were notthese things sufficient for herself? Did she ever tire of those longpine vistas, with the narrow strip of clearest blue between the gentlywaving tree-tops? The dreamy murmur of the forest gave her an exquisitepleasure. To see the bloom on the pink and grey trunks of the pines, andthe sun on the moss and lichen beneath, was so deep a satisfaction toher soul that the thought that others who had been knocked about by lifewould not feel it too, would not enter with profoundest thankfulnessinto this other world of peace, never struck her at all. When these poortired women, freed at last from every care and every anxiety, hadrefreshed themselves with the music and fragrance of the forest, therewas the garden across the road to enjoy, with the marsh already strewnwith kingcups on the other side of the hedge already turning green; andthe sea with the fishing-smacks passing up and down, and the silvergleam of gulls' wings circling round the orange sails, and eaglesfloating high up aloft, specks in the infinite blue; and then there weredrives along the coast towards the north, where the wholesome wind blewfresher than in the woods; and quiet evenings in the roomy house, whereall that was asked of them was that they should be happy. 

"It's a lovely plan, isn't it, Letty?" she said joyously, the eveningbefore they were to arrive, as she stood with her arm round Letty'sshoulder at the bottom of the garden, where they had both been watchingthe sails of the fishing-smacks during those short sunset moments whenthey looked like the bright wings of spirits moving over the face of theplacid waters. 

"I should rather think it was, " replied Letty, who was profoundlyinterested. 

They got up at sunrise the next morning, and went out into the forest insearch of hepaticas and windflowers with which to decorate the threebedrooms. These bedrooms were the largest and pleasantest in the house. Anna had given up her own because she thought the windows particularlypleasing, and had gone into a little one in the fervour of her desire tolavish all that was best on her new friends. The rooms were furnishedwith special care, an immense amount of thought having been bestowed onthe colour of the curtains, the pattern of the porcelain, and the booksfilling the shelves above each writing-table. The colours and patternswere the nearest approach Berlin could produce to Anna's own favouritecolours and patterns. She wasted half her time, when the rooms wereready, sitting in them and picturing what her own delight would havebeen if she, like the poor ladies for whom they were intended, had comestraight out of a cold, unkind world into such pretty havens. 

The choice of books had been a great difficulty, and there had been muchcorrespondence on the subject with Berlin before a selection had beenmade. Books there must be, for no room, she thought, was habitablewithout them; and she had tried to imagine what manner of literaturewould most appeal to her unhappy ones. It was to be presumed that theirages were such as to exclude frivolity; therefore she bought very fewnovels. She thought Dickens translated into German would be a safechoice; also Schlegel's Shakespeare for loftier moments. The Germanclassics were represented by Goethe in one room, Schiller in another, and Heine in the third. In each room also there was a German-Englishdictionary, for the facilitation of intercourse. Finally, she asked theprincess to recommend something they would be sure to like, and sherecommended cookery books. 

"But they are not going to cook, " said Anna, surprised. 

"_Es ist egal_--it is always interesting to read good recipes. No otherreading affords me the same pleasure. "

"But only when you want something new cooked. "

"No, no, at all times, " insisted the princess. 

Anna could not quite believe that such a taste was general; but in caseone of the three should share it, she put a cookery book in onebookcase. In the other two severally to balance it, she slipt at thelast moment a volume of Maeterlinck, to which at that period she wasgreatly attached; and Matthew Arnold's poems, to which also at thatperiod she was greatly attached. 

The princess went about with pursed lips while these preparations werein progress; and when, at sunrise on the last morning, she was awakenedby stealthy footsteps and smothered laughter on the landing outside herroom, and, opening her door an inch and peering out as in duty bound incase the sounds should be emanating from some unaccountably mirthfulmaid-servant, she saw Anna and Letty creeping downstairs with their hatson and baskets in their hands, she guessed what they were going to do, and got back into bed with lips more pursed than ever. Did she not knowwho had been chosen, and that one of the three was a _Bürgerliche_?

About eight o'clock, when the two girls were coming out of the forestwith their baskets full and their faces happy, Axel Lohm was ridingthoughtfully past, having just settled an unpleasant business atKleinwalde. Dellwig had sent him an urgent message in the small hours;there had been a brawl among the labourers about a woman, and a man hadbeen stabbed. Axel had ordered the aggressor to be locked up in thelittle room that served as a temporary prison till he could be handedover to the Stralsund authorities. His wife, a girl of twenty, was ill, and she and her three small children depended entirely on the man'searnings. The victim appeared to be dying, and the man would certainlybe punished. What, then, thought Axel, was to become of the wife and thechildren? Frau Dellwig had told him that she sent soup every day atdinner-time, but soup once a day would neither comfort them nor makethem fat. Besides, he had a notion that the soup of Frau Dellwig'scharity was very thin. He was riding dejectedly enough down the road onhis way home, looking straight before him, his mouth a mere grim line, thinking how grievous it was that the consequences of sin should fallwith their most terrific weight nearly always on the innocent, on thehelpless women-folk and the weak little children, when Anna and Lettyappeared, talking and laughing, on the edge of the forest. 

Letty, we know, had not been kindly treated by nature, but even she wasa pleasing object in her harmless morning cheerfulness after the faceshe had just seen; and Anna's beauty, made radiant by happiness andcontentment, startled him. He had a momentary twinge, gone almost beforehe had realised it, a sudden clear conception of his great loneliness. The satisfaction he strove to extract from improving his estate for thebenefit of his brother Gustav appeared to him at that moment to bear asingular resemblance, in its thinness, to Frau Dellwig's charitablesoup. He got off his horse to speak to her, and rested his eyes, tiredby looking at the hideous passions on the brawler's face, on hers. "To-day is the important day, is it not?" he asked, glancing from herflower-like face to the flowers. 

"The first three come this afternoon. "

"So Manske told me. You are very happy, I can see, " he said, smiling. 

"I never was so happy before. "

"Your uncle was a wise man. He told me he was going to leave youKleinwalde because he felt sure you would be happy leading the simplelife here. "

"Did he talk about me to you?"

"After his last visit to England he talked about you all the time. "

"Oh?" said Anna, looking at him thoughtfully. Uncle Joachim, sheremembered perfectly, had urged two things--the leading of the betterlife, and the marrying of a good German gentleman. A faint flush cameinto her face and faded again. She had suddenly become aware that Axelwas the good German gentleman he had meant. Well, the wisest uncle wassubject to errors of judgment. 

"I trust those women will not worry you too much, " he said, thinking howimmense would be the pity if those happy eyes ever lost theirjoyousness. 

"Worry me? Poor things, they won't have any energy of any sort leftafter all they have gone through. I never read such pitiful letters. "

"Well, I don't know, " said Axel doubtfully. "Manske says one of them isa Treumann. It is a family distinguished by its size and itsdisagreeableness. "

"Oh, but she only married a Treumann, and isn't one herself. "

"But a woman generally adopts the peculiarities of the family shemarries into, especially if they are unpleasant. "

"But she has been a widow for years. And is so poor. And is so crushed. "

"I never yet heard of a permanently crushed Treumann, " said Axel, shaking his head. 

"You are trying to make me uneasy, " said Anna, a slight touch ofimpatience in her voice. She was singularly sensitive about her chosenones; sensitive in the way mothers are about a child that is deformed. 

"No, no, " he said quickly, "I only wish to warn you. You maybedisappointed--it is just possible. " He could not bear to think of her asdisappointed. 

"Pray, do you know anything against the other two?" she asked with somedefiance. "One of them is a Baroness Elmreich, and the other is aFräulein Kuhräuber. "

Axel looked amused. "I never heard of Fräulein Kuhräuber, " he said. "What does Princess Ludwig say to her coming?"

"Nothing at all. What should she say?"

It was Fräulein Kuhräuber's coming that had more particularly occasionedthe pursing of the princess's lips. 

"I know some Elmreichs, " said Axel. "A few of them are respectable; butone branch at least of the family is completely demoralised. A BaronElmreich shot himself last year because he had been caught cheating atcards. And one of his sisters--oh, well, some of them are harmless, Ibelieve. "

"Thank you. "

"You are angry with me?"

"Very. "

"And why?"

"You want to prejudice me against these poor things. They can't helpwhat distant relations do. They will get away from them in my house, atleast, and have peace. "

"Miss Letty, is your aunt often--what is the word--so fractious?"

"Oh, I don't know, " said Letty, who found it dull waiting in silencewhile other people talked. "It's breakfast time, you know, and peoplecan't stand much just about then. "

"Oh, youthful philosopher!" exclaimed Axel. "So young, and of the femalesex, and yet to have pierced to the very root of human weakness!"

"Stuff, " said Letty, offended. 

"What, are you going to be angry too? Then let me get on my horse andgo. "

"It's the best thing you can do, " said Letty, always frank, but doublyso when she was hungry. 

"Shall you come and see us soon?" Anna asked, gathering up her skirts inher one free hand, preparatory to crossing the muddy road. 

"But you are angry with me. "

She looked up and laughed. "Not now, " she said; "I've finished. Do youthink I'm going to be angry long this pleasant April morning?"

"I smell the coffee, " observed Letty, sniffing. 

"Then I will come to-morrow if I may, " said Axel, "and make theacquaintance of Frau von Treumann and Baroness Elmreich. "

"And Fräulein Kuhräuber, " said Anna, with emphasis. She thought she sawthe same tendency in him that was so manifest in the princess, atendency to ignore the very existence of any one called Kuhräuber. 

"And Fräulein Kuhräuber, " repeated Axel gravely. 

"They've burnt the toast again, " said Letty; "I can hear them scrapingoff the black. "

"I wish you good luck, then, " said Axel, taking off his hat; "with allmy heart I wish you good luck, and that these ladies may very soon be ashappy as you are yourself. "

"That's nice, " said Anna, approvingly; "so much, much nicer than theother things you have been saying. " And she nodded to him, all smiles, as she crossed over to the house and he rode away. 

CHAPTER XIV

Long before the carriage bringing the three chosen ones from the stationcould possibly arrive, Anna and Letty began to wait in the hall, standing at the windows, going out on to the steps, looking into thedifferent rooms every few minutes to make sure that everything wasready. The bedrooms were full of the hepaticas of the morning; thecoffee had been set out with infinite care and an eye to effect by Annaherself on a little table in the drawing-room by the open window, through which the mild April air came in and gently fanned the curtainsto and fro; and the princess had baked her best cakes for the occasion, inwardly deploring, as she did so, that such cakes should be offered tosuch people. When she had seen that all was as it should be, shewithdrew into her own room, where she remained darning sheets, for shehad asked Anna to excuse her from being present at the arrival. "It isbetter that you should make their acquaintance by yourself, " she said. "The presence of too many strangers at first might disconcert them underthe circumstances. "

Miss Leech profited by this remark, made in her hearing, and did notappear either; so that when the carriage drove in at the gate only Annaand Letty were standing at the door in the sunshine. 

Anna's heart bumped so as the three slowly disentangled themselves andgot out, that she could hardly speak. Her face flushed and grew pale byturns, and her eyes were shining with something suspiciously like tears. What she wanted to do was to put her arms right round the three poorladies, and kiss them, and comfort them, and make up for all theirgriefs. What she did was to put out a very cold, shaking hand, and sayin a voice that trembled, "_Guten Tag_. "

"_Guten Tag_, " said the first lady to descend; evidently, from hermourning, the widowed Frau von Treumann. 

Anna took her extended hand in both hers, and clasping it tight lookedat its owner with all her heart in her eyes. "_Es freut mich so--esfreut mich so_, " she murmured incoherently. 

"_Ach_--you are Miss Estcourt?" asked the lady in German. 

"Yes, yes, " said Anna, still clinging to her hand, "and so happy, sovery happy to see you. "

Frau von Treumann hereupon made some remarks which Anna supposed were ofa grateful nature, but she spoke so rapidly and in such subdued tones, glancing round uneasily as she did so at the coachman and at the others, and Anna herself was so much agitated, that what she said was quiteincomprehensible. Again Anna longed to throw her arms round the poorwoman's neck, and interrupt her with kisses, and tell her that gratitudewas not required of her, but only that she should be happy; but she feltthat if she did so she would begin to cry, and tears were surely out ofplace on such a joyful occasion, especially as nobody else looked in theleast like crying. 

"You are Frau von Treumann, I know, " she said, holding her hand, andturning to the next one and beaming on her, "and this is BaronessElmreich?"

"No, no, " said the third lady quickly, "_I_ am Baroness Elmreich. "

Fräulein Kuhräuber, an ample person whose body, swathed in travellingcloaks, had blotted out the other little woman, looked frightened andapologetic, and made deep curtseys. 

Anna shook their hands one after the other with all the warmth that wasglowing in her heart. Her defective German forsook her almostcompletely. She did nothing but repeat disconnected ejaculations, "_soreizend--so glücklich--so erfreut_----" and fill in the gaps with happy, quivering smiles at each in turn, and timid little pats on any handwithin her reach. 

Letty meanwhile stood in the shadow of the doorway, wishing that shewere young enough to suck her thumb. It kept on going up to her mouth ofits own accord, and she kept on pulling it down again. This was one ofthe occasions, she felt, when the sucking of thumbs is a relief and ablessing. It gives one's superfluous hands occupation, and oneself acountenance. She shifted from one foot to the other uneasily, and heldon tight to the rebellious thumb, for the tall lady who had got outfirst was fixing her with a stare that chilled her blood. The tall lady, who was very tall and thin, and had round unblinking dark eyes set closetogether like an owl's, and strongly marked black eyebrows, saidnothing, but examined her slowly from the tip of the bow of ribbontrembling on her head to the buckles of the shoes creaking on her feet. Ought she to offer to shake hands with her, or ought she to wait to beshaken hands with, Letty asked herself distractedly. Anyhow it wasrather rude to stare like that. She had always been taught that it wasrude to stare like that. 

Anna had forgotten all about her, and only remembered her when they werein the drawing-room and she had begun to pour out the coffee. "Oh, Letty, where are you? This is my niece, " she said; and Letty was at lastshaken hands with. 

"Ah--she keeps you company, " said the baroness. "You found it lonelyhere, naturally. "

"Oh no, I am never lonely, " said Anna cheerfully, filling the cups andgiving them to Letty to carry round. 

"How pleasant the air is to-day, " observed Frau von Treumann, edging herchair away from the window. "Damp, but pleasant. You like fresh air, Isee. "

"Oh, I love it, " said Anna; "and it is so beautiful here--so pure, andfull of the sea. "

"You are not afraid of catching cold, sitting so near an open window?"

"Oh, is it too much for you? Letty, shut the window. It is gettingchilly. The days are so fine that one forgets it is only April. "

Anna talked German and poured out the coffee with a nervous hasteunusual to her. The three women sitting round the little table staringat her made her feel terribly nervous. She was happy beyond words tohave got them safely under her own roof at last, but she was nervous. She was determined that there should be no barriers of conventionalityfrom the first between themselves and her; not a minute more of theirlives was to be wasted; this was their home, and she was all ready tolove them; she had made up her mind that however shy she felt she wasgoing to behave as though they were her dear friends--which indeed, sheassured herself, was exactly what they were. Therefore she struggledbravely against her nervousness, addressing them collectively andsingly, saying whatever came first into her head in her anxiety to saysomething, smiling at them, pressing the princess's cakes on them, hardly letting them drink their coffee before she wanted to give themmore. But it was no good; she was and remained nervous, and her handshook so when she lifted it that she was ashamed. 

Fräulein Kuhräuber was the one who stared least. If she caught Anna'seye her own drooped, whereas the eyes of the other two never wavered. She sat on the edge of her chair in a way made familiar to Anna byintercourse with Frau Manske, and whatever anybody said she nodded herhead and murmured "_Ja, eben_. " She was obviously ill at ease, anddropped the sugar-tongs when she was offered sugar with a loud clatteron to the varnished floor, nearly sweeping the cups off the table in hereffort to pick them up again. 

"Oh, do not mind, " said Anna, "Letty will pick them up. They are stupidthings--much too big for the sugar-basin. "

"_Ja, eben_, " said Fräulein Kuhräuber, sitting up and looking perturbed. The other two removed their eyes from Anna's face for a moment to stareat the Fräulein. The baroness, a small, fair person with hair arrangedin those little flat curls called kiss-me-quicks on each cheek, andwide-open pale blue eyes, and a little mouth with no lips, or lips sothin that they were hardly visible, sat very still and straight, and hada way of moving her eyes round from one face to the other without at thesame time moving her head. She was unmarried, and was probably aboutthirty-five, Anna thought, but she had always evaded questions in thecorrespondence about her age. Fräulein Kuhräuber was also thirty-five, and as large and blooming as the baroness was small and pale. Frau vonTreumann was over fifty, and had had more sorrows, judging from herletters, than the other two. She sat nearest Anna, who every now andthen laid her hand gently on hers and let it rest there a moment, in herdetermination to thaw all frost from the very beginning. "Oh, I quiteforgot, " she said cheerfully--the amount of cheerfulness she put intoher voice made her laugh at herself--"I quite forgot to introduce you toeach other. "

"We did it at the station, " said Frau von Treumann, "when we foundourselves all entering your carriage. "

"The Elmreichs are connected with the Treumanns, " observed the baroness. 

"We are such a large family, " said Frau von Treumann quickly, "that weare connected with nearly everybody. "

The tone was cold, and there was a silence. Neither of them, apparently, was connected with Fräulein Kuhräuber, who buried her face in her cup, in which the tea-spoon remained while she drank, and heartily longed forconnections. 

But she had none. She was absolutely without relations except deceasedones. She had been an orphan since she was two, cared for by her oneaunt till she was ten. The aunt died, and she found a refuge in anorphanage till she was sixteen, when she was told that she must earn herbread. She was a lazy girl even in those days, who liked eating herbread better than earning it. No more, however, being forthcoming in theorphanage, she went into a pastor's family as _Stütze der Hausfrau_. These _Stütze_, or supports, are common in middle-class German families, where they support the mistress of the house in all her manifold duties, cooking, baking, mending, ironing, teaching or amusing thechildren--being in short a comfort and blessing to harassed mothers. ButFräulein Kuhräuber had no talent whatever for comforting mothers, andshe was quickly requested to leave the busy and populous parsonage;whereupon she entered upon the series of driftings lasting twenty years, which landed her, by a wonderful stroke of fortune, in Anna's arms. 

When she saw the advertisement, her future was looking very black. Shewas, as usual, under notice to quit, and had no other place in view, andhad saved nothing. It is true the advertisement only offered a home towomen of good family; but she got over that difficulty by reflectingthat her family was all in heaven, and that there could be no relationsmore respectable than angels. She wrote therefore in glowing terms ofthe paternal Kuhräuber, "_gegenwärtig mit Gott_, " as she put it, expatiating on his intellect and gifts (he was a man of letters, shesaid), while he yet dwelt upon earth. Manske, with all his inquiries, could find out nothing about her except that she was, as she said, anorphan, poor, friendless, and struggling; and Anna, just then impatientof the objections the princess made to every applicant, quickly decidedto accept this one, against whom not a word had been said. So FräuleinKuhräuber, who had spent her life in shirking work, who was quitethriftless and improvident, who had never felt particularly unhappy, andwhose father had been a postman, found herself being welcomed with anenthusiasm that astonished her to Anna's home, being smiled upon andpatted, having beautiful things said to her, things the very opposite tothose to which she had been used, things to the effect that she was nowto rest herself for ever and to be sure and not do anything except justthat which made her happiest. 

It was very wonderful. It seemed much, much too good to be true. And thedelight that filled her as she sat eating excellent cakes, and thediscomfort she endured because of the stares of the other two women, andthe consciousness that she had never learned how to behave in thesociety of persons with _von_ before their names, produced such mingledfeelings of ecstasy and fright in her bosom that it was quite naturalshe should drop the sugar-tongs, and upset the cream-jug, and choke overher coffee--all of which things she did, to Anna's distress, whosuffered with her in her agitation, while the eyes of the other twowatched each successive catastrophe with profoundest attention. 

It was an uncomfortable half hour. "I am shy, and they are shy, " Annasaid to herself, apologising as it were for the undoubted flatness thatprevailed. How could it be otherwise, she thought? Did she expect themto gush? Heaven forbid. Yet it was an important crisis in their lives, this passing for ever from neglect and loneliness to love, and shewondered vaguely that the obviously paramount feeling should be interestin the awkwardness of Fräulein Kuhräuber. 

Her German faltered, and threatened to give out entirely. The inevitablepause came, and they could hear the sparrows quarrelling in the goldengarden, and the creaking of a distant pump. 

"How still it is, " observed the baroness with a slight shiver. 

"You have no farmyard near the house to make it more cheerful, " saidFrau von Treumann. "My father's house had the garden at the back, andthe farmyard in the front, and one did not feel so cut off fromeverything. There was always something going on in the yard--always lifeand noises. "

"Really?" said Anna; and again the pump and the sparrows became audible. 

"The stillness is truly remarkable, " observed the baroness again. 

"_Ja, eben_, " said Fräulein Kuhräuber. 

"But it is beautiful, isn't it, " said Anna, gazing out at the light onthe water. "It is so restful, so soothing. Look what a lovely sunsetthere must be this evening. We can't see it from this side of the house, but look at the colour of the grass and the water. "

"_Ach_--you are a friend of nature, " said Frau von Treumann, turning herhead for a brief moment towards the window, and then examining Anna'sface. "I am also. There is nothing I like more than nature. Do youpaint?"

"I wish I could. "

"Ah, then you sing--or play?"

"I can do neither. "

"_So?_ But what have you here, then, in the way of distractions, ofpastimes?"

"I don't think I have any, " said Anna, smiling. "I have been very busytill now making things ready for you, and after this I shall just enjoybeing alive. "

Frau von Treumann looked puzzled for a moment. Then she said "_Ach so. _"

There was another silence. 

"Have some more coffee, " said Anna, laying hold of the pot persuasively. She was feeling foolish, and had blushed stupidly after that _Ach so_. 

"No, no, " said Frau von Treumann, putting up a protesting hand, "you arevery kind. Two cups are a limit beyond which voracity itself could notgo. What do you say? You have had three? Oh, well, you are young, andyoung people can play tricks with their digestions with less danger thanold ones. "

At this speech Fräulein Kuhräuber's four cups became plainly written onher guilty face. The thought that she had been voracious at the veryfirst meal was appalling to her. She hastily pushed away her half-emptycup--too hastily, for it upset, and in her effort to save it it fell onto the floor and was broken. "_Ach, Herr Je!_" she cried in herdistress. 

The other two looked at each other; the expression is an unusual one onthe lips of gentle-women. 

"Oh, it does not matter--really it does not, " Anna hastened to assureher. "Don't pick it up--Letty will. The table is too small really. Thereis no room on it for anything. "

"_Ja, eben_, " said Fräulein Kuhräuber, greatly discomfited. 

"You would like to go upstairs, I am sure, " said Anna hurriedly, turningto the others. "You must be very tired, " she added, looking at Frau vonTreumann. 

"I am, " replied that lady, closing her eyes for a moment with a littlesmile expressive of patient endurance. 

"Then we will go up. Come, " she said, holding out her hand to FräuleinKuhräuber. "No, no--let Letty pick up the pieces----" for the Fräulein, in her anxiety to repair the disaster, was about to sweep the remainingcups off the table with the sleeve of her cloak. 

Anna drew her hand through her arm, and gave it a furtive andencouraging stroke. "I will go first and show you the way, " she saidover her shoulder to the others. 

And so it came about that Frau von Treumann and Baroness Elmreichactually found themselves going through doors and up stairs behind aperson called Kuhräuber. They exchanged glances again. Whatever might betheir private objections to each other, they had one point already onwhich they agreed, for with equal heartiness they both disapproved ofFräulein Kuhräuber. 

CHAPTER XV

As soon as Baroness Elmreich found herself alone in her bedroom, sheproceeded to examine its contents with minute care. Supper, she had beentold, was not till eight o'clock, and she had not much to unpack; solaying aside her hat and cloak, and glancing at the reflection of herlittle curls in the glass to see whether they were as they should be, she began her inspection of each separate article in her room, takingeach one up and scrutinising it, holding the jars of hepaticas highabove her head in order to see whether the price was marked underneath, untidying the bed to feel the quality of the sheets, poking the mattressto discover the nature of the stuffing, and investigating with specialattention the embroidery on the pillow-cases. But everything was asdainty and as perfect as enthusiasm could make it. Nowhere, with herbest endeavours, could she discover the signs she was looking for ofcheapness and shabbiness in less noticeable things that would havehelped her to understand her hostess. "This embroidery has cost at leasttwo marks the meter, " she said to herself, fingering it. "She must rollin money. And the wall-paper--how unpractical! It is so light that everymark will be seen. The flies alone will ruin it in a month. "

She shrugged her shoulders, and smiled; strange to say, the thought ofAnna's paper being spoiled pleased her. 

Never had she been in a room the least like this one. If whitewashprevailed downstairs, and in Anna's special haunts, it had not beenpermitted to invade the bedrooms of the Chosen. Anna's reflections hadled her to the conclusion that the lives of these ladies had till thenprobably been spent in bare places, and that they would accordingly feelas much pleasure in the contemplation of carpets, papered walls, andstuffed chairs, as she herself did in the severity of her whitewashedrooms after the lavishly upholstered years of her youth. But thedaintiness and luxury only filled the baroness with doubts. She stood inthe middle of it looking round her when she had finished her tour ofinspection and had made guesses at the price of everything, and askedherself who this Miss Estcourt could be. Anna would have beenconsiderably disappointed, and perhaps even moved to tears, if she hadknown that the room she thought so pretty struck the baroness, whosetaste in furniture had not advanced beyond an appreciation for the darkand heavy hangings and walnut-wood tables of her more prosperous years, merely as odd. Odd, and very expensive. Where did the money come fromfor this reckless furnishing with stuffs and colours that were bound toshow each stain? Her eye wandered along the shelves above thewriting-table--hers was the Heine and Maeterlinck room--and she wonderedwhat all the books were there for. She did not touch them as she hadtouched everything else, for except an occasional novel, and, moreregularly, a journal beloved of German woman called the _Gartenlaube_, she never read. 

On the writing-table lay a blotter, a pretty, embroidered thing thatsaid as plainly as blotter could say that it had been chosen withimmense care; and opening it she found notepaper and envelopes stampedwith the Kleinwalde address and her own monogram. This was Anna's littlespecial gift, a childish addition, the making of which had given her anabsurd amount of pleasure. The happy idea, as she called it, had come toher one night when she lay awake thinking about her new friends andgoing through the familiar process of discovering their tastes byimagining herself in their place. "_Sonderbar_, " was the baroness'scomment; and she decided that the best thing she could do would be toring the bell and endeavour to obtain private information about MissEstcourt by means of a prolonged cross-examination of the housemaid. 

She rang it, and then sat very straight and still on the sofa with herhands folded in her lap, and waited. Her soul was full of doubts. Whowas this Miss, and where were the proofs that she was, as she hadpretended, of good birth? That she was not so very pious was evident;for if she had been, some remark of a religious nature would inevitablyhave been forthcoming when she first welcomed them to her house. No suchword, not the least approach to any such word, had been audible. Therehad not even been an allusion, a sigh, or an upward glance. Yet thepastor who had opened the correspondence had filled many pages withexpatiations on her zeal after righteousness. And then she was so young. The baroness had expected to see an elderly person, or at least a personof the age of everybody else, which was her own age; but this was a meregirl, and a girl, too, who from the way she dressed, clearly thoughtherself pretty. Surely it was strange that so young a woman should beliving here quite unattached, quite independent apparently of allcontrol, with a great deal of money at her disposal, and only one littlegirl to give her a countenance? Suppose she were not a proper person atall, suppose she were an outcast from society, a being on whom her owncountrypeople turned their backs? This desire to share her fortune withrespectable ladies could only be explained in two ways: either she hadbeen moved thereto by an enthusiastic piety of which not a trace had asyet appeared, or she was an improper person anxious to rebuild herreputation with the aid and countenance of the ladies of good family shehad entrapped into her house. 

The baroness stiffened as she sat. It was her brother who had cheated atcards and shot himself, and it was her sister of whom Axel Lohm hadheard strange tales; and few people are more savagely proper than thestill respectable relations of the demoralised. "The service in thishouse is very bad, " she said aloud and irascibly, getting up to ringagain. "No doubt she has trouble with her servants. "

But there was a knock at the door while her hand was on the bell, and onher calling "Come in, " instead of the servant her hostess appeared, dressed to the baroness's eye in a truly amazing and reprehensiblefashion, and looking as cheerful as an innocent infant for whom no suchthing as evil-doing exists. Also she seemed quite unconscious of herclothes and bare neck, nor did she offer to explain why she was arrayedas though she were going to a ball; and she stood a moment in thedoorway trying to say something in German and pretending to laugh at herown ineffectual efforts, but really laughing, the baroness felt sure, inorder to show that she had dimples; which were not, after all, verywonderful things to have--before she had grown so thin she almost hadone herself. 

"May I come in?" said Anna at last, giving up the other and morecomplicated speech. 

"_Bitte_, " said the baroness, with the smile the French call _pincé_. 

"Has no one been to unpack your things?"

"I rang. "

"And no one came? Oh, I shall scold Marie. It is the only thing I can dowell in German. Can you speak English?"

"No. "

"Nor understand it?"

"No. "

"French?"

"No. "

"Oh, well, you must be patient then with my bad German. When I am alonewith anyone it goes better, but if there are many people listening I amnervous and can hardly speak at all. How glad I am that you are here!"

Anna's shyness, now that she was by herself with one of her forlornones, had vanished, and she prattled happily for some time, putting asmany mistakes into her sentences as they would hold, before she becameaware that the baroness's replies were monosyllabic, and that she wasexamining her from head to foot with so much attention that there wasobviously none left over for the appreciation of her remarks. 

This made her feel shy again. Clothes to her were such secondaryconsiderations, things of so little importance. Susie had provided them, and she had put them on, and there it had ended; and when she found thatit was her dress and not herself that was interesting the baroness, shelonged to have the courage to say, "Don't waste time over it now--I'llsend it to your room to-night, if you like, and you can look at itcomfortably--only don't waste time now. I want to talk to you, to _you_who have suffered so much; I want to make friends with you quickly, tomake you begin to be happy quickly; so don't let us waste the precioustime thinking of clothes. " But she had neither sufficient courage norsufficient German. 

She put out her hand rather timidly, and making an effort to bring hercompanion's thoughts back to the things that mattered, said, "I hope youwill like living with me. I hope we shall be very happy together. Ican't tell you how happy it makes me to think that you are safely here, and that you are going to stay with me always. "

The baroness's hands were clasped in front of her, and they did notunclasp to meet Anna's; but at this speech she left off eyeing thedress, and began to ask questions. "You are very lonely, I can see, " shesaid with another of the pinched smiles. "Have you then no relations? Noone of your own family who will live with you? Will not your _Frau Mama_come to Germany?"

"My mother is dead. "

"_Ach_--mine also. And the _Herr Papa_?"

"He is dead. "

"_Ach_--mine also. "

"I know, I know, " said Anna, stroking the unresponsive hands--a trick ofhers when she wanted to comfort that had often irritated Susie. "Youtold me how lonely you were in your letters. I lived with my brother andhis wife till I came here. You have no brothers or sisters, I think youwrote. "

"None, " said the baroness with a rigid look. 

"Well, I am going to be your sister, if you will let me. "

"You are very good. "

"Oh, I am not good, only so happy--I have everything in the world that Ihave ever wished to have, and now that you have come to share it allthere is nothing more I can think of that I want. "

"_Ach_, " said the baroness. Then she added, "Have you no aunts, orcousins, who would come and stay with you?"

"Oh, heaps. But they are all well off and quite pleased, and theywouldn't like staying here with me at all. "

"They would not like staying with you? How strange. "

"Very strange, " laughed Anna. "You see they don't know how pleasant Ican be in my own house. "

"And your friends--they too will not come?"

"I don't know if they would or not. I didn't ask them. "

"You have no one, no one at all who would come and live with you so thatyou should not be so lonely?"

"But I am not lonely, " said Anna, looking down at the little woman witha slightly amused expression, "and I don't in the least want to be livedwith. "

"Then why do you wish to fill your house with strangers?"

"Why?" repeated Anna, a puzzled look coming into her eyes. Had not thecorrespondence with the ultimately chosen been long? And were not allher reasons duly set forth therein? "Why, because I want you to havesome of my nice things too. "

"But not your own friends and relations?"

"They have everything they want. "

There was a silence. Anna left off stroking the baroness's hands. Shewas thinking that this was a queer little person--outside, that is. Inside, of course, she was very different, poor little lonely thing; buther outer crust seemed thick; and she wondered how long it would takeher to get through it to the soul that she was sure was sweet andlovable. She was also unable to repress a conviction that most peoplewould call these questions rude. 

But this train of thought was not one to be encouraged. "I am keepingyou here talking, " she said, resuming her first cheerfulness, "and yourthings are not unpacked yet. I shall go and scold Marie for not comingwhen you rang, and I'll send her to you. " And she went out quickly, vexed with herself for feeling chilled, and left the baroness more fullof doubts than ever. 

When she had rebuked Marie, who looked gloomy, she tapped at Frau vonTreumann's door. No one answered. She knocked again. No one answered. Then she opened the door softly and looked in. 

These were precious moments, she felt, these first moments of beingalone with each of her new friends, precious opportunities for breakingice. It is true she had not been able to break much of the ice encasingthe baroness, but she was determined not to be cast down by any of thelittle difficulties she was sure to encounter at first, and she lookedinto Frau von Treumann's room with fresh hope in her heart. 

What, then, was her dismay to find that lady walking up and down withthe long strides of extreme excitement, her face bathed in tears. 

"Oh--what's the matter?" gasped Anna, shutting the door quickly andhurrying in. 

Frau von Treumann had not heard the gentle taps, and when she saw her, started, and tried to hide her face in her handkerchief. 

"Tell me what is the matter, " begged Anna, her voice full of tenderness. 

"_Nichts, nichts_, " was the hasty reply. "I did not hear you knock----"

"Tell me what is the matter, " begged Anna again, fairly putting her armsround the poor lady. "Our letters have said so much already--surelythere is nothing you cannot tell me now? And if I can help you----"

Frau von Treumann freed herself by a hasty movement, and began to walkup and down again. "No, no, you can do nothing--you can do nothing, " shesaid, and wept as she walked. 

Anna watched her in consternation. 

"See to what I have come--see to what I have come!" said the agitatedlady under her breath but with passionate intensity, as she passed andrepassed her dismayed hostess; "oh, to have fallen so low! oh, to havefallen so low!"

"So low?" echoed Anna, greatly concerned. 

"At my age--I, a Treumann--I, a _geborene_ Gräfin Ilmas-Kadenstein--tolive on charity--to be a member of a charitable institution!"

"Institution? Charity? Oh no, no!" cried Anna. "It is a home here, andthere is no charity in it from the attic to the cellar. " And she wenttowards her with outstretched hands. 

"A home! Yes, that is it, " cried Frau von Treumann, waving her back, "itis a home, a charitable home!"

"No, not a home like that--a real home, my home, your home--_ein Heim_, "Anna protested; but vainly, because the German word _Heim_ and theEnglish word "home" have little meaning in common. 

"_Ein Heim, ein Heim_, " repeated Frau von Treumann with extraordinarybitterness, "_ein Frauenheim_--yes, that is what it is, and everybodyknows it. "

"Everybody knows it?"

"How could I think, " she said, wringing her hands, "how could I thinkwhen I decided to come here that the whole world was to be madeacquainted with your plans? I thought they were to be kept private, thatthe world was to think we were your friends----"

"And so you are. "

"--your guests----"

"Oh, more than guests--this is home. "

"Home! Home! Always that word----" And she burst into a fresh torrent oftears. 

Anna stood helpless. What she said appeared only to aggravate Frau vonTreumann's sorrow and rage--for surely there was anger as well assorrow? She was at a complete loss for the reason of this outburst. Hadnot every detail been discussed in the correspondence? Had not thatcorrespondence been exhaustive even to boredom?

"You have told your servants----"

"My servants?"

"You have told them that we are objects of charity----"

"I----" began Anna, and then was silent. 

"It is not true--I have come here from very different motives--but theythink me an object of charity. I rang the bell--I cannot unstrap mytrunks--I never have been expected to unstrap trunks. " The sobs hereinterfered for a moment with further speech. "After a long while--yourservant came--she was insolent--the trunks are there stillunstrapped--you see them--she knows--everything. "

"She shall go to-morrow. "

"The others think the same thing. "

"They shall go to-morrow--that is, have they been rude to you?"

"Not yet, but they will be. "

"When they are, they shall go. "

"I went into the corridor to seek other assistance, and I met--Imet----"

"Who?"

"Oh, to have fallen so low!" cried Frau von Treumann, clasping herhands, and raising her streaming eyes to the ceiling. 

"But who did you meet?"

"I met--I met the Penheim. "

"The Penheim? Do you mean Princess Ludwig?"

"You never said she was here----"

"I did not know that it would interest you. "

"--living on charity--she was always shameless--I was at school withher. Oh, I would not have come for any inducement if I had known she washere! She holds nothing sacred, she will boast of her own degradation, she will write to all her friends that I am here too--I told them I wascoming only on a visit to you--they knew I knew your uncle--but thePenheim--the Penheim----" and Frau von Treumann threw herself into achair and covered her face with her hands to shut out the horrid vision. 

The corners of Anna's mouth began to take the upward direction thatwould end in a smile; and feeling how ill-placed such a contortion wouldbe in the presence of this tumultuous grief, she brought them carefullyback to a position of proper solemnity. Besides, why should she smile?The poor lady was clearly desperately unhappy about something, thoughwhat it was Anna did not quite know. She had looked forward to thisfirst evening with her new friends as to a thing apart, a thing beyondthe ordinary experience of life, profound in its peace, perfect in itsharmony, the first taste of rest after war, of port after stormy seas;and here was Frau von Treumann plunged in a very audible grief, and inthe next room was the baroness, a disconcerting combination ofinquisitiveness and ice, and farther down the passage was FräuleinKuhräuber--in what state, Anna wondered, would she find FräuleinKuhräuber? Anyhow she had little reason to smile. But the horror withwhich Princess Ludwig had been mentioned seemed droll beside her ownknowledge of the sterling qualities of that excellent woman. She wentover to the chair in which Frau von Treumann lay prostrate, and sat downbeside her. She was glad that they had reached the stage of sittingdown, for talking is difficult to a person who will not keep still. 

"How sorry I am, " she said, in her pretty, hesitating German, "that youshould have been made unhappy the very first evening. Marie is a littlewretch. Don't let her stupidity make you miserable. You shall not seeher again, I promise you. " And she patted Frau von Treumann's arm. "Butabout Princess Ludwig, now, " she went on cheerfully, "she has been heresome weeks and you soon learn to know a person you are with every day, and really I have found her nothing but good and kind. "

"_Ach_, she is shameless--she recoils before no degradation!" burst outFrau von Treumann, suddenly removing her hands from her face. "Thetrouble she has given her relations! She delights in dragging her namein the dirt. She has tried to get places in the most impossiblefamilies, and made no attempt to hide what she was doing. She has brokenthe old Fürst's heart. And she talks about it all, and has no shame, nodecency----"

"But is it not admirable----" began Anna. 

"She will gloat over me, and tell everyone that I am here in the sameway as she is. If she is not ashamed for herself, do you think she willspare me?"

"But why should you think there is anything to be ashamed of in comingto live with me and be my dear friend?"

"No, there is nothing, so long as my motives in coming are known. Butpeople talk so cruelly, and will distort the facts so gladly, and wehave always held our heads so high. And now the Penheim!" She sobbedafresh. 

"I shall ask the princess not to write to anyone about your being here. "

"_Ach_, I know her--she will do it all the same. "

"No, I don't think so. She does everything I ask. You see, she takescare of my house for me. She is not here in the same way that--that youand Baroness Elmreich are, and her interest is to stay here. "

Frau von Treumann's bowed head went up with a jerk. "_Ach?_ She hasfound a place at last? She is your paid companion? Your housekeeper?"

"Yes, and she is goodness itself, and I don't believe she would beunkind and make mischief for worlds. "

"_Ach so!_" said Frau von Treumann, "_ach so-o-o-o!_"--a long drawn out_so_ of complete comprehension. Her tears ceased as if by magic. Shedried her eyes. Yes, of course the Penheim would hold her tongue if MissEstcourt ordered her to do so. She had heard all about her efforts tofind places, and she would probably be very careful not to lose thisone. The poor Penheim. So she was actually working for wages. What acome-down for a Dettingen! And the Dettingens had always treated theTreumanns as though they belonged merely to the _kleine Adel_. Well, well, each one in turn. She was the dear friend, and the Penheim was thehousekeeper. Well, well. 

She sat up straight, smoothed her hair, and resumed her first manner ofquiet dignity. "I am sorry that you should have witnessed my agitation, "she said, with a faint smile. "I am not easily betrayed into exhibitionsof feeling, but there are limits to one's endurance, there are certainthings the bravest cannot bear. "

"Yes, " said Anna. 

"And for a Treumann, social disgrace, any action that in the least soilsour honour and makes us unable to hold up our heads, is worse thandeath. "

"But I don't see any disgrace. "

"No, no, there is none so long as facts are not distorted. It is quitesimple--you need friends and I am willing to be your friend. That washow my son looked at it. He said '_Liebe Mama_, she evidently needsfriends and sympathy--why should you hesitate to make yourself of use?You must regard it as a good work. ' You would like my son; his brotherofficers adore him. "

"Really?" said Anna. 

"He is so sensible, so reasonable; he is beloved and respected by thewhole regiment. I will show you his photograph--_ach_, the trunks arestill unstrapped. "

"I'll go and send someone--but not Marie, " said Anna, getting upquickly. She had no desire to see the photograph, and the son's way oflooking at things had considerably astonished her. "It must be nearlysupper time. Would you not rather lie down and let me send you somethinghere? Your head must ache after crying so much. You have baptised ournew life with tears. I hope it is a good omen. "

"Oh, I will come down. You will do as you promised, will you not, andforbid the Penheim to gossip?"

"I shall tell the princess your wishes. "

"Or, if she must gossip, let her tell the truth at least. If my son hadnot pressed me to come here I really do not think----"

Anna went slowly and meditatively down the passage to FräuleinKuhräuber's room. For a moment she thought of omitting this last visitaltogether; she was afraid lest the Fräulein should be in someunlooked-for and perplexing condition of mind. Discouraged? Oh no; shewas surely not discouraged already. How had the word come into her head?She quickened her steps. When she reached the door she remembered thecup and the sugar-tongs. Perhaps something in the bedroom was alreadybroken, and the Fräulein would be disclosed sitting in the ruins intears, for she was unexpectedly large, and the contents of her room werefrail. But then woe of that sort was as easily assuaged as brokenfurniture was mended. It was the more complicated grief of Frau vonTreumann that she felt unable to soothe. As to that, she preferred notto think about it at present, and barricaded her thoughts against itsimage with that consoling sentence, _Tout comprendre c'est toutpardonner. _ It was a sentence she was fond of; but she had not expectedthat she would need its reassurance so soon. 

She opened the door, and the puckers smoothed themselves out of herforehead at once, for here, at last, was peace. There had been nodifficulties here with bells, and straps, and Marie. The trunks had beenopened and unpacked without assistance; and when Anna came in thecontents were all put away and Fräulein Kuhräuber, washed and combed andin her Sunday blouse, was sitting in an easy chair by the windowabsorbed in a book. Satisfaction was written broadly on her face;content was expressed by every lazy line of her attitude. When she sawAnna, she got up and made a curtsey and beamed. The beams were instantlyreflected in Anna's face, and they beamed at each other. 

"Well, " said Anna, who felt perfectly at her ease with this member ofher trio, "are you happy?"

Fräulein Kuhräuber blushed, and beamed more than ever. She was far lessshy of Anna than she was of those two terrible _adelige Damen_, hertravelling companions; but at no time had she had much conversation. Hers had been a ruminative existence, for its uncertainty but rarelydisturbed her. Had she not an excellent digestion, and a fixed beliefthat the righteous, of whom she was one, would never be forsaken? Andare not these the primary conditions of happiness? Indeed, if everythingelse is wanting, these two ingredients by themselves are sufficient forthe concoction of a very palatable life. 

"You have found an interesting book already?" Anna asked, pleased thatthe literature chosen with such care should have met with instantappreciation. She took it up to see what it was, but put it down againhastily, for it was the cookery book. 

"I read much, " observed Fräulein Kuhräuber. 

"Yes?" said Anna, a flicker of hope reviving in her heart. Perhaps thecookery book was an accident. 

"I know by heart more than a hundred recipes for sweet dishes alone. "

"Really?" said Anna, the flicker expiring. 

"So you can have an idea of the number of books I have read. "

"Here are a great many more for you to read. "

"_Ach ja, ach ja_, " said Fräulein Kuhräuber, glancing doubtfully at theshelves; "but one must not waste too much time over it--there are otherthings in life. I read only useful books. "

"Well, that is very praiseworthy, " said Anna, smiling. "If you likecookery books, I must get you some more. "

"How good you are--how very, very good!" said the Fräulein, gazing atthe charming figure before her with heartfelt admiration and gratitude. "This beautiful room--I cannot look at it enough. I cannot believe it isreally for me--for me to sleep in and be in whenever I choose. What haveI done to deserve all this?"

What had she done, indeed? She had not even been unhappy, although ofcourse she had had every opportunity of being so, sent from place toplace, from one indignant _Hausfrau_ to another, ever since she leftschool. But Anna, persuaded that she had rescued her from depths ofunspeakable despair, was overjoyed by this speech. "Don't talk aboutdeserving, " she said tenderly. "You have had such a life that if youwere to be happy now without stopping once for the next fifty years itwould only be just and right. "

Fräulein Kuhräuber's approval of this sentiment was so entire that sheseized Anna's hand and kissed it fervently. Anna laughed while this wasgoing on, and her eyes grew brighter. She had not wanted gratitude, butnow that it had come it was very encouraging after all, and verywarming. She put one arm impulsively round the Fräulein's neck andkissed her, and this was practically the first kiss that lady had everreceived, for the perfunctory embraces of reluctantly dutiful aunts canhardly be called by that pretty name. 

"Now, " said Anna, with a happy laugh, "we are going to be friends forever. Come, let us go down. That was the supper bell. "

And they went downstairs together, appearing in the doorway of thedrawing-room arm in arm, as though they had loved each other for years. 

"As though they were twins, " muttered the baroness to Frau von Treumann, who shrugged one shoulder slightly by way of reply. 

CHAPTER XVI

But in spite of this little outburst of gratitude and appreciation fromFräulein Kuhräuber, the first evening of the new life was adisappointment. The Fräulein, who entered the room so happily under theimpression of that recent kiss, became awkward and uncomfortable themoment she caught sight of the others; lapsing, indeed, into a quitepitiful state of nervous flutter on being brought for the first timewithin the range of the princess's critical and unsympathetic eye. Herexperience had not included princesses, and, as she made a series ofagitated curtseys, deeming one altogether insufficient for so great alady, she felt as though that cold eye were piercing her through easily, and had already discovered the inmost recess of her soul, where lay, socarefully hidden, the memory of the postman. Every time the princesslooked at her, a sudden vivid consciousness of the postman flamed upwithin her, utterly refusing to be extinguished by the soothingrecollection that he had been angelic for thirty years. That obviouslyexperienced eye and those pursed lips upset her so completely that shemade no remark whatever during the meal that followed, but sat next toAnna and ate _Leberwurst_ in a kind of uneasy dream; and she ate it witha degree of emphasis so unusual among the polite and so disastrous tothe peace of the ultra-fastidious that Anna felt there really was someslight excuse for the frequent and lengthy stares that came from theother end of the table. "Yet she is an immortal soul--what does itmatter how she eats _Leberwurst_?" said Anna to herself. "What do suchtrifles, such little mannerisms, really matter? I should indeed be amiserable creature if I let them annoy me. " But she turned her headaway, nevertheless, and talked assiduously to Letty. 

There was no one else for her to talk to. Frau von Treumann and thebaroness had seated themselves at once one on either side of theprincess, and devoted their conversation entirely to her. In thedrawing-room later on, the same thing happened, --the three German ladiesclustering together near the sofa, and the three English being leftsomehow to themselves, except for Fräulein Kuhräuber, who clung to them. To avoid this division into what looked like hostile camps Anna pushedher chair to a place midway between the groups, and tried to join, though not very successfully, in the talk of each in turn. Outward calmprevailed in the room, subdued voices, the tranquillity of fancy-work, and the peace of albums; yet Anna could not avoid a chilled impression, a feeling as though each person present were distrustful of the others, and more or less on the defensive. Frau von Treumann, it is true, wasgraciousness itself to the princess, conversing with her constantly andamiably, and showing herself kind; but, on the other hand, the princesswas hardly gracious to Frau von Treumann. An unbiassed observer wouldhave said that she disapproved of Frau von Treumann, but wasendeavouring to conceal her disapproval. She busied herself with herembroidery and talked as little as she could, receiving both theadvances of Frau von Treumann and the attentions of the baroness withequal coldness. 

As for the baroness, her doubts as to Anna's respectability were blownaway completely and forever when, on opening the drawing-room doorbefore supper, she had beheld no less a person than the _geborene_Dettingen seated on the sofa. The baroness had spent her life in aremote and tiny provincial town, but she knew the great Dettingen andPenheim families well by name, and a princess in her opinion was aprincess, an altogether precious and admirable creature, whatever shemight choose to do. Her scruples, then, were set at rest, but her ice asfar as Anna was concerned showed no signs of thawing. All her amiabilityand her efforts to produce a good impression were lavished on theprincess, who besides being by birth and marriage the grandest personthe baroness had yet met, spoke her own tongue properly, had no dimples, and did not try to stroke her hand. She looked on with mingled awe andirritation at the easy manner in which Frau von Treumann treated thisgreat lady. It almost seemed as though she were patronising her. Reallythese Treumanns were a brazen-faced race; audacious East PrussianJunkers, who thought themselves as good as or better than the best. Andthis one was not even a true Treumann, but an Ilmas, and of the inferiorKadenstein branch; and the baroness's brother--that brother whose endwas so abrupt--had been quartered once during the man[oe]uvres atKadenstein, and had told her that it was a wretched place, with afowl-run that wanted mending within a few yards of the front door, andthat, the door standing open all day long, he had frequently met fowlswalking about in the hall and passages. Yet remembering the brother'sstory, and how there was no shadow of the sort resting at present onFrau von Treumann, though as she had a son there was no telling how longher shadowless state would last, she tried to ingratiate herself withthat lady, who met her advances coolly, only warming into something likeresponsiveness when Fräulein Kuhräuber was in question. 

Fräulein Kuhräuber sat behind Letty and Miss Leech, as far away from theothers as she could. She had a stocking in her hand, but she did notknit. She never knitted if she could avoid it, and was conscious thatfrom want of practice her needles moved more slowly than is usual--soslowly, indeed, as to be conspicuous. Letty showed her photographs andwas very kind to her, instinctively perceiving that here was someone whowas as uneasy under the tall lady's stares as she was herself. Sheprivately thought her by far the best of the new arrivals, and wishedshe knew enough German to inquire into her views respecting Schiller;there was something in the Fräulein's looks and manner that made herthink they would agree about Schiller. 

Anna, too, ended by talking exclusively to this group. Her attempts tojoin in what the others were saying had been unsuccessful; and with alittle twinge of disappointment, and a feeling of being for someunexplained reason curiously out of it, she turned to FräuleinKuhräuber, and devoted herself more and more to her. 

"They are inseparables already, " remarked the baroness in a low voice toFrau von Treumann. "The Miss finds her congenial, it seems. " She couldnot forgive those doors she had gone through last. 

The princess looked up for a moment over the spectacles she wore whenshe worked, at Anna. 

"Fräulein Kuhräuber makes an excellent foil, " said Frau von Treumann. "Miss Estcourt looks quite ethereal next to her. "

"Do you think her pretty?" asked the baroness. 

"She is very distinguished-looking. "

A servant came in at that moment and announced Dellwig's usual eveningvisit, and Anna got up and went out. They watched her as she walked downthe long room, and when she had disappeared began to discuss her more attheir ease, their rapid German being quite incomprehensible to Letty andMiss Leech. 

"Where has she gone?" asked the baroness. 

"She has gone to talk to her inspector, " said the princess. 

"_Ach so_, " said the baroness. 

"_Ach so_, " said Frau von Treumann. 

"Is the inspector young?" asked the baroness. 

"Oh no, quite old, " said the princess. 

"These English are a strange race, " said Frau von Treumann. "What Germangirl of that age would you find with so much energy and enterprise?"

"Is she so very young?" inquired the baroness, with a look of mildsurprise. 

"Why, she is plainly little more than a child, " said Frau von Treumann. 

"She is twenty-five, " said the princess. 

"Rather an old child, " observed the baroness. 

"She looks much younger. But twenty-five is surely young enough for thislife, away from her own people, " said Frau von Treumann. 

"Yes--why does she lead it?" asked the baroness eagerly. "Can you tellus, Frau Prinzessin? Has she then quarrelled with all her friends?"

"Miss Estcourt has not told me so. "

"But she must have quarrelled. Eccentric as the English are, there arelimits to their eccentricity, and no one leaves home and friends andcountry without some good reason. " And Frau von Treumann shook her head. 

"She has quarrelled, I am sure, " said the baroness. 

"I think so too, " said Frau von Treumann; "I thought so from the first. My son also thought so. You remember Karlchen, princess?"

"Perfectly. "

"I discussed the question thoroughly with him, of course, as to whetherI should come here or not. I confess I did not want to come. It was agreat wrench, giving up everything, and going so far from my son. Butafter all one must not be selfish. " And Frau von Treumann sighed andpaused. 

No one said anything, so she continued: "One feels, as one grows older, how great are the claims of others. And a widow with only one son can doso much, can make herself of so much use. That is what Karlchen said. When I hesitated--for I fear one does hesitate before inconvenience--hesaid, '_Liebste Mama_, it would be a charity to go to the poor younglady. You who have always been the first to extend a sympathetic hand tothe friendless, how is it that you hesitate now? Depend upon it, she hashad differences at home and needs countenance and help. You have noencumbrances. You can go more easily than others. You must regard it asa good work. ' And that decided me. "

The princess let her work drop for a moment into her lap, and gazed overher spectacles at Frau von Treumann. "_Wirklich?_" she said in a voiceof deep interest. "Those were your reasons? _Aber herrlich. _"

"Yes, those were my reasons, " replied Frau von Treumann, returning hergaze with pensive but steady eyes. "Those were my chief reasons. Iregard it as a work of charity. "

"But this is noble, " murmured the princess, resuming her work. 

"That is how _I_ have regarded it, " put in the baroness. "I agree withyou entirely, dear Frau von Treumann. "

"I do not pretend to disguise, " went on Frau von Treumann, "that it isan economy for me to live here, but poor as I have been since my dearhusband's death--you remember Karl, princess?"

"Perfectly. "

"Poor as I have been, I always had sufficient for my simple wants, andshould not have dreamed of altering my life if Miss Estcourt's lettershad not been so appealing. "

"_Ach_--they were appealing?"

"Oh, a heart of stone would have been melted by them. And a widow'sheart is not of stone, as you must know yourself. The orphan appealingto the widow--it was irresistible. "

"Well, you see she is not by any means alone, " said the princesscheerfully. "Here we are, five of us counting the little Letty, surrounding her. So you must not sacrifice yourself unnecessarily. "

"Oh, I am not one of those who having put their hand to the plough----"

"But where is the plough, dear Frau von Treumann? You see there is, after all, no plough. "

"Dear princess, you always were so literal. "

"Ah, you used to reproach me with that in the old days, when you wrotepoetry and read it to me and I was rude enough to ask if it meantanything. We did not think then that we should meet here, did we?"

"No, indeed. And I cannot tell you how much I admire your courage. "

"My courage? What fine qualities you invest me with!"

"Miss Estcourt has told me how admirably you discharge your duties here. It is wonderful to me. You are an example to us all, and you make mefeel ashamed of my own uselessness. "

"Oh, you underrate yourself. People who leave everything to go and helpothers cannot talk of being useless. Yes, I look after her house forher, and I hope to look after her as well. "

"After her? Is that one of your duties? Did she stipulate for personalsupervision when she engaged you? How times are changed! When my Karlwas alive, and we lived at Sommershof, I certainly would not havetolerated that my housekeeper should keep me in order as well as myhouse. "

"The case was surely different, dear Frau von Treumann. Here is anunusually pretty young thing, with money. She will need all theprotection I can give her, and it is a satisfaction to me to feel that Iam here and able to give it. "

"But she may any day turn round and request you to go. "

"That of course may happen, but I hope it will not until she is safe. "

"But do you think her so pretty?" put in the baroness wonderingly. 

"Safe? What special dangers do you then apprehend for her?" asked Frauvon Treumann with a look of amusement. "Dear princess, you always didtake your duties so seriously. What a treasure you would have been to mein many ways. It is admirable. But do your duties really includewatching over Miss Estcourt's heart? For I suppose you are thinking ofher heart?"

"I am thinking of adventurers, " said the princess. "Any young man withno money would naturally be delighted to secure this young lady andKleinwalde. And those who instead of money have debts, would naturallybe still more delighted. " And the princess in her turn gazed pensivelybut steadily at Frau von Treumann. "No, " she said, taking up her workagain, "I was not thinking of her heart, but of the annoyance she mightbe put to. I do not fancy that her heart would easily be touched. "

Anna came in at that moment for a paper she wanted, and heard the lastwords. "What, " she said, smiling, as she unlocked the drawer of herwriting-table and rummaged among the contents, "you are talking abouthearts? You see it is true that women can't be together half an hourwithout getting on to subjects like that. If you were three men, now, you would talk of pigs. " Then, a sudden recollection of Uncle Joachimcoming into her mind, she added with conviction, "And pigs are better. "

Nor was it till she had closed the door behind her that it struck herthat when she came into the room both the princess and Frau von Treumannwere looking preternaturally bland. 

CHAPTER XVII

Axel Lohm was in the hall, having his coat taken from him by a servant. 

"You here?" exclaimed Anna, holding out both hands. She was more thanusually pleased to see him. 

"Manske had a pile of letters for you, and could not get them to youbecause he has a pastors' conference at his house. I was there and sawthe letters, and thought you might want them. "

"Oh, I don't want them--at least, there is no hurry. But the letters areonly an excuse. Now isn't it so?"

"An excuse?" he repeated, flushing. 

"You want to see the new arrivals. "

"Not in the very least. "

"Oh, oh! But as you have come one minute too soon, and happened to meetme outside the door, your plan is spoilt. Are those the letters? What apile!" Her face fell. 

"But you are looking for nine more ladies. You want a wide choice. Youhave still the greater part of your work before you. "

"I know. Why do you tell me that?"

"Because you do not seem pleased to get them. "

"Oh yes, I am; but I am tired to-night, and the idea of nine more ladiesmakes me feel--feel sleepy. "

She stood under the lamp, holding the packet loosely by its string andsmiling up to him. There were shadows in her eyes, he thought, where hewas used to seeing two cheerful little lights shining, and a faintruefulness in the smile. 

"Well, if you are tired you must go to bed, " he said, in such a matterof fact tone that they both laughed. 

"No, I mustn't, " said Anna; "I am on my way to Herr Dellwig at this verymoment. He's in there, " she said, with a motion of her head towards thedining-room door. "Tell me, " she added, lowering her voice, "have yougot a brick-kiln at Lohm?"

"A brick-kiln? No. Why do you want to know?"

"But why haven't you got a brick-kiln?"

"Because there is nothing to make bricks with. Lohm is almost entirelysand. "

"He says there is splendid clay here in one part, and wants to buildone. "

"Who? Dellwig?"

"Sh--sh. "

"Your uncle would have built one long ago if there really had been clay. I must look at the place he means. I cannot remember any such place. Andit is unlikely that it should be as he says. Pray do not agree to anypropositions of the kind hastily. "

"It would cost heaps to set it going, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, and probably bring in nothing at all. "

"But he tries to make out that it would be quite cheap. He says thetimber could all be got out of the forest. I can't bear the thought ofcutting down a lot of trees. "

"If you can't bear the thought of anything he proposes, then simplyrefuse to consider it. "

"But he talks and talks till it really seems that he is right. He toldme just now that it would double the value of the estate. "

"I don't believe it. "

"If I made bricks, according to him I could take in twice as many poorladies. "

"I believe you will be happier with fewer ladies and no bricks, " saidAxel with great positiveness. 

Anna stood thinking. Her eyes were fixed on the tip of the finger shehad passed through the loop of string that tied the letters together, and she watched it as the packet twisted round and round and pinched itredder and redder. "I suppose you never wanted to be a woman, " she said, considering this phenomenon with apparent interest. 

Axel laughed. 

"The mere question makes you laugh, " she said, looking up quickly. "Inever heard of a man who did want to. But lots of women would giveanything to be men. "

"And you are one of them?"

"Yes. "

He laughed again. 

"You think I would make a queer little man?" she said, laughing too; buther face became sober immediately, and with a glance at the shutdining-room door she continued: "It is so horrid to feel weak. My sisterSusie says I am very obstinate. Perhaps I was with her, but differentpeople have different effects on one. " She sank her voice to a whisper, and looked at him anxiously. "You can't think what an _effort_ it is tome to say No to that man. "

"What, to Dellwig?"

"Sh--sh. "

"But if that is how you feel, my dear Miss Estcourt, it is very evidentthat the man must go. "

"How easy it is to say that! Pray, who is to tell him to go?"

"I will, if you wish. "

"If you were a woman, do you suppose you would be able to turn out anold servant who has worked here so many years?"

"Yes, I am sure I would, if I felt that he was getting beyond mycontrol. "

"No, you wouldn't. All sorts of things would stop you. You wouldremember that your uncle specially told you to keep him on, that he hasbeen here ages, that he was faithful and devoted----"

"I do not believe there was much devotion. "

"Oh yes, there was. The first evening he cried about dear UncleJoachim. "

"He cried?" repeated Axel incredulously. 

"He did indeed. "

"It was about something else, then. "

"No, he really cried about Uncle Joachim. He really loved him. "

Axel looked profoundly unconvinced. 

"But after all those are not the real reasons, " said Anna; "they oughtto be, but they're not. The simple truth is that I am a coward, and I amfrightened--dreadfully frightened--of possible scenes. " And she lookedat him and laughed ruefully. "There--you see what it is to be a woman. If I were a man, how easy things would be. Please consider themortification of knowing that if he persuades long enough I shall givein, against my better judgment. He has the strongest will I think I evercame across. "

"But you have not yet given in, I hope, on any point of importance?"

"Up to now I have managed to say No to everything I don't want to do. But you would laugh if you knew what those Nos cost me. Why cannot theplace go on as it was? I am perfectly satisfied. But hardly a day passeswithout some wonderful new plan being laid before me, and he talks--oh, how he talks! I believe he would convince even you. "

"The man is quite beyond your control, " said Axel in a voice of anger;and voices of anger commonly being loud voices, this one produced theeffect of three doors being simultaneously opened: the door leading tothe servants' quarters, through which Marie looked and vanished again, retreating to the kitchen to talk prophetically of weddings; thedining-room door, behind which Dellwig had grown more and more impatientat being kept waiting so long; and the drawing-room door, on the otherside of which the baroness had been lingering for some moments, desiringto go upstairs for her scissors, but hesitating to interrupt Anna'sbusiness with the inspector, whose voice she thought it was that sheheard. 

The baroness shut her door again immediately. "_Aha_--the admirer!" shesaid to herself; and went back quickly to her seat. "The Miss is talkingto a _jünge Herr_, " she announced, her eyes wider open than ever. 

"A _jünge Herr_?" echoed Frau von Treumann. "I thought the inspector wasold?"

"It must be Axel Lohm, " said the princess, not raising her eyes from herwork. "He often comes in. "

"He comes courting, evidently, " said the baroness with a sub-acid smile. 

"It has not been evident to me, " said the princess coldly. 

"I thought it looked like it, " said the baroness, with more meekness. 

"Is that the Lohm who was engaged to one of the Kiederfels girls someyears ago?" asked Frau von Treumann. 

"Yes, and she died. "

"But did he not marry soon afterwards? I heard he married. "

"That was the second brother. This one is the eldest, and lives next tous, and is single. "

Frau von Treumann was silent for a moment. Then she said blandly, "Nowconfess, princess, that _he_ is the perilous person from whom you thinkit necessary to defend Miss Estcourt. "

"Oh no, " said the princess with equal blandness; "I have no fears abouthim. "

"What, is he too possessed of an invulnerable heart?"

"I know nothing of his heart. I said, I believe, adventurers. And no onecould call Axel Lohm an adventurer. I was thinking of men who have runthrough all their own and all their relations' money in betting andgambling, and who want a wife who will pay their debts. "

"_Ach so_, " said Frau von Treumann with perfect urbanity. And if thistalk about protecting Miss Estcourt from adventurers in a place wherethere were apparently no human beings of any kind, but only trees andmarshes, might seem to a bystander to be foolishness, to the speakers itwas luminousness itself, and in no way increased their love for eachother. 

Meanwhile Dellwig, looking through the door and seeing Lohm, brought hisheels together and bowed with his customary exaggeration. "I beg athousand times pardon, " he said; "I thought the gracious Miss wasengaged and would not return, and I was about to go home. "

"I have found the paper, and am coming, " said Anna coldly. "Well, good-night, " she added in English, holding out her hand to Axel. 

"If you will allow me, I should like to pay my respects to PrincessLudwig before I go, " he said, thinking thus to see her later. 

"Ah! wasn't I right?" she said, smiling. "You are determined to look atthe new arrivals. How can a man be so inquisitive? But I will saygood-night all the same. I shall be ages with Herr Dellwig, and shallnot see you again. " She shook hands with him, and went into thedining-room, Dellwig standing aside with deep respect to let her pass. But she turned to say something to him as he shut the door, and Axelcaught the expression of her face, the intense boredom on it, theprofound distrust of self; and he went in to the princess with anunusually severe and determined look on his own. 

Dellwig went home that night in a savage mood. "That young man, " he saidto his wife, flinging his hat and coat on to a chair and himself on to asofa, "is thrusting himself more and more into our affairs. "

"That Lohm?" she asked, rolling up her work preparatory to fetching hisevening drink. 

"I had almost got the Miss to consent to the brick-kiln. She was quitereasonable, and went out to get the plan I had made. Then she methim--he is always hanging about. "

"And then?" inquired Frau Dell wig eagerly. 

"Pah--this petticoat government--having to beg and pray for the smallestconcession--it makes an honest man sick. "

"She will not consent?"

"She came back as obstinate as a mule. It all had to be gone into againfrom the beginning. "

"She will not consent?"

"She said Lohm would look at the place and advise her. "

"_Aber so was!_" cried Frau Dellwig, crimson with wrath. "Advise her?Did you not tell her that you were her adviser?"

"You may be sure I did. I told her plainly enough, I fancy, that Lohmhad nothing to say here, and that her uncle had always listened to me. She sat without speaking, as she generally does, not even looking atme--I never can be sure that she is even listening. "

"And then?"

"I asked her at last if she had lost confidence in me. "

"And then?"

"She said _oh nein_, in her affected foreign way--in the sort of voicethat might just as well mean _oh ja_. " And he imitated, with greatbitterness, Anna's way of speaking German. "Mark my words, Frau, she isas weak as water for all her obstinacy, and the last person who talks toher can always bring her round. "

"Then you must be the last person. "

"If it were not for that prig Lohm, that interfering ass, thatincomparable rhinoceros----"

"He wants to marry her, of course. "

"If he marries her----" Dellwig stopped short, and stared gloomily athis muddy boots. 

"If he marries her----" repeated his wife; but she too stopped short. They both knew well enough what would happen to them if he married her. 

The building of the brick-kiln had come to be a point of honour with theDellwigs. Ever since Anna's arrival, their friends the neighbouringfarmers and inspectors had been congratulating them on their completeemancipation from all manner of control; for of course a young ignorantlady would leave the administration of her estate entirely in herinspector's hands, confining her activities, as became a lady of birth, to paying the bills. Dellwig had not doubted that this would be so, andhad boasted loudly and continually of the different plans he had madeand was going to carry out. The estate of which he was now practicallymaster was to become renowned in the province for its enterprise and theextent, in every direction, of its operations. The brick-kiln was along-cherished scheme. His oldest friend and rival, the head inspectorof a place on the other side of Stralsund, had one, and had constantlyurged him to have one too; but old Joachim, without illusions as to thequality of the clay, and by no manner of means to be talked intodisbelieving the evidence of his own eyes, would not hear of it, andDellwig felt there was nothing to be done in the face of that curtrefusal. The friend, triumphing in his own brick-kiln and his own morepliable master, jeered, dug him in the ribs at the Sunday gatherings, and talked of dependence, obedience, and restricted powers. Such friendsare difficult to endure with composure; and Dellwig, and still less hiswife, for many months past had hardly been able to bear the word "brick"mentioned in their presence. When Anna appeared on the scene, so young, so foreign, and so obviously foolish, Dellwig, certain now of success, told his friend on the very first Sunday night that the brick-kiln wasnow a mere matter of weeks. Always a boaster, he could not resistboasting a little too soon. Besides, he felt very sure; and the friend, too, had taken it for granted, when he heard of the impending youngmistress, that the thing was as good as built. 

That was in March. It was now the end of April, and every Sunday thefriend inquired when the building was to be begun, and every SundayDellwig said it would begin when the days grew longer. The days hadgrown longer, would have grown in a few weeks to their longest, as thefriend repeatedly pointed out, and still nothing had been done. To themany people who do not care what their neighbours think of them, thetorments of the two Dellwigs because of the unbuilt brick-kiln will beincomprehensible. Yet these torments were so acute that in the weakermoments immediately preceding meals they both felt that it would almostbe better to leave Kleinwalde than to stay and endure them; indeed, before dinner, or during wakeful nights, Frau Dellwig was convinced thatit would be better to die outright. The good opinion of theirneighbours--more exactly, the envy of their neighbours--was to them thevery breath of their nostrils. In their set they must be the first, theundisputedly luckiest, cleverest, and best off. Any position less mightywould be unbearable. And since Anna came there had been nothing buthumiliations. First the dinner to the Manskes, from which they had beenexcluded--Frau Dellwig grew hot all over at the recollection of theSunday gathering succeeding it; then the renovation of the _Schloss_without the least reference to them, without the smallest asking foradvice or help; then the frequent communications with the pastor, putting him quite out of his proper position, the confidence placed inhim, the ridiculous respect shown him, his connection with the madcharitable scheme; and now, most dreadful of all, this obstinacy inregard to the brick-kiln. It was becoming clear that they were fairly onthe way to being pitied by the neighbours. Pitied! Horrid thought. Thegreat thing in life was to be so situated that you can pity others. Butto be pitied yourself? Oh, thrice-accursed folly of old Joachim, toleave Kleinwalde to a woman! Frau Dellwig could not sleep that night forhating Anna. She lay awake staring into the darkness with hot eyes, andhating her with a heartiness that would have petrified that unconsciousyoung woman as she sat about a stone's throw off in her bedroom, motionless in the chair into which she had dropped on first comingupstairs, too tired even to undress, after her long struggle with FrauDellwig's husband. "The _Engländerin_ will ruin us!" cried Frau Dellwigsuddenly, unable to hate in silence any longer. 

"_Wie? Was?_" exclaimed Dellwig, who had dozed off, and was startled. 

"She will--she will!" cried his wife. 

"Will what? Ruin us? The _Engländerin_? _Ach was--Unsinn. _ _She_ can bemanaged. It is Lohm who is the danger. It is Lohm who will ruin us. Ifwe could get rid of him----"

"_Ach Gott_, if he would die!" exclaimed Frau Dellwig, with ferventhands raised heavenwards. "_Ach Gott_, if he would only die!"

"_Ach Gott, ach Gott!_" mimicked her husband irritably, for he dislikedbeing suddenly awakened. "People never die when anything depends on it, "he grumbled, turning over on his side. And he cursed Axel several times, and went to sleep. 

CHAPTER XVIII

The philosopher tells us that, after the healing interval of sleep, weare prepared to meet each other every morning as gods and goddesses; sofresh, so strong, so lusty, so serene, did he consider the newly-risenand the some-time separated must of necessity be. It is a pleasingbelief; and Experience, that hopelessly prosaic governess who nevergives us any holidays, very quickly disposes of it. For what is tobecome of the god-like mood if only one in a company possess it? Themiddle-aged and old, who abound in all companies, are seldom god-like, and are never so at breakfast. 

The morning after the arrival of the Chosen, Anna woke up in the trueOlympian temper. She had been brought back to the happy world ofrealities from the happy world of dreams by the sun of an unusuallylovely April shining on her face. She had only to open her window to beconvinced that all which she beheld was full of blessings. Just beneathher window on the grass was a double cherry tree in flower, an exquisitething to look down on with the sunshine and the bees busy among itsblossoms. The unreasoning joyfulness that invariably took possession ofher heart whenever the weather was fine, filled it now with a rapture ofhope and confidence. This world, this wonderful morning world that shesaw and smelt from her window, was manifestly a place in which to behappy. Everything she saw was very good. Even the remembrance of Dellwigwas transfigured in that clear light. And while she dressed she tookherself seriously to task for the depression of the night before. Depressed she had certainly been; and why? Simply because she wasover-excited and over-tired, and her spirit was still so mortifyinglyunable to rise superior to the weakness of her tiresome flesh. And tolet herself be made wretched by Dellwig, merely because he talked loudand had convictions which she did not share! The god-like morning moodwas strong upon her, and she contemplated her listless self of theprevious evening, the self that had sat so long despondently thinkinginstead of going to bed, with contempt. These evening interviews withDellwig, she reflected, were a mistake. He came at hours when she wasleast able to bear his wordiness and shouting, and it was the knowledgeof his impending visit that made her irritable beforehand and ruffledthe absolute serenity that she felt was alone appropriate in a housededicated to love. But it was not only Dellwig and the brick-kiln thathad depressed her; she had actually had doubts about her three newfriends, doubts as to the receptivity of their souls, as to the capacityof their souls for returning love. At one awful moment she had evendoubted whether they had souls at all, but had hastily blown out thecandle at this point, extinguishing the doubt at the same time, smothering it beneath the bedclothes, and falling asleep at once, afterthe fashion of healthy young people. 

Now, at the beginning of the new day, with all her misgivings healed bysleep, she thought calmly over the interview she had had with Frau vonTreumann before supper; for it was that interview that had been thechief cause of her dejection. Frau von Treumann had told her an untruth, a quite obvious and absurd untruth in the face of the correspondence, asto the reason of her coming to Kleinwalde. She had said she had onlycome at the instigation of her son, who looked upon Anna as a deservingobject of help. And Anna had been hurt, had been made miserable, by thepaltriness of this fib. Her great desire was to reach her friends' soulsquickly, to attain the beautiful intimacy in which the smallest fictionis unnecessary; and so little did Frau von Treumann understand her, thatshe had begun a friendship that was to be for life with an untruth thatwould not have misled a child. But see the effect of sleep and agracious April morning. The very shabbiness and paltriness of the fibmade Anna's heart yearn over the poor lady. Surely the pride that triedto hide its wounds with rags of such pitiful flimsiness was profoundlypathetic? With such pride, all false from Anna's point of view, but realand painful enough to its possessor, the necessity that drove her toaccept Anna's offer must have been more cruel than necessity, alwayscruel, generally is. Her heart yearned over her friend as she dressed, and she felt that the weakness that must lie was a weakness greatlyrequiring love. For nobody, she argued, would ever lie unless driven toit by fear of some suffering. If, then, it made her happy, and made herlife easier, let her think that Anna believed she had come for her sake. What did it matter? No one was perfect, and many people weresurprisingly pathetic. 

Meanwhile the day was glorious, and she went downstairs with the springystep of hope. She was thinking exhilarating thoughts, thinking thatthere were to be no ripples of misgivings and misunderstandings on theclear surface of this first morning. They would all look into eachothers' candid eyes at breakfast, and read a mutual consciousness ofinterests henceforward to be shared, of happiness to be shared, of lifeto be shared, --the life of devoted and tender sisters. 

The hall door stood open, and the house was full of the smell of April;the smell of new leaves budding, of old leaves rotting, of damp earth, pine needles, wet moss, and marshes. "Oh, the lovely, lovely morning!"whispered Anna, running out on to the steps with outstretched arms andupturned face, as though she would have clasped all the beauty round andheld it close. She drew in a long breath, and turned back into the housesinging in an impassioned but half-suppressed voice the first verse ofthe Magnificat. The door leading to the kitchen opened, and to hersurprise Baroness Elmreich emerged from those dark regions. TheMagnificat broke off abruptly. Anna was surprised. Why the kitchen? Thebaroness saw her hostess's figure motionless against the light of theopen door; but the light behind was strong and the hall was dark, andshe thought it was Anna's back. Hoping that she had not been noticed shesoftly closed the door again and waited behind it till she could comeout unseen. 

Anna supposed that the princess must be showing her the servants'quarters, and went into the breakfast room; but in it sat the princess, making coffee. 

"There you are, " said the princess heartily. "That is nice. Now we candrink our coffee comfortably together before the others come down. Haveyou been out? You smell of fresh air. "

"Only a moment on the doorstep. "

"Come, sit next to me. You have slept well, I can see. Notice theadvantage of coming straight in to breakfast, and not running about theforest--you get here first, and so get the best cup of coffee. "

"But it isn't proper for me to have the best, " said Anna, smiling as shetook the cup, "when I have guests here. "

"Yes, it is--very proper indeed. Besides, you told me they weresisters. "

"So they are. Has the baroness not been here?"

"No, she is still in bed. "

"No, I saw her a moment ago. I thought you were with her. "

"Oh, my dear--so early in the morning!" protested the princess. "Whendid I see her last? Less than nine hours ago. She followed me into mybedroom and talked much. I could not begin again with her the firstthing in the morning, even to please you. " And she looked at Anna veryaffectionately. "You were tired last night, were you not?" shecontinued. "Axel Lohm stayed so late, I think he wanted to speak to you. But you went straight up to bed. "

"I had seen him before he went in to you. He didn't want to speak to me. He was consumed by curiosity about our new friends. "

"Was he? He did not show much interest in them. He talked to me nearlyall the time. He thought for a moment that he knew the baroness--atleast, he stared at her at first and seemed surprised. But it turned outthat she was only like someone he knew. She had evidently never seen himbefore. It is a great pleasure to me to talk to that young man, " theprincess went on, while Anna ate her toast. 

"So it is to me, " said Anna. 

"I have met many people in my life, and have often wondered at thedearth of nice ones--how few there are that one likes to be with andwishes to see again and again. Axel is one of the few, decidedly. "

"So he is, " agreed Anna. 

"There is goodness written on every line of his face. "

"Oh, he has the kindest face. And so strong. I feel that if anythinghappened here, anything dreadful, that he would make it right again atonce. He would mend us if we got smashed, and build us up again if wegot burned, and protect us, this houseful of lone women, if ever anybodytried to run away with us. " And Anna nodded reassuringly at theprincess, and took another piece of toast "That is how I feel abouthim, " she said. "So agreeably certain, not only of his willingness tohelp, but of his power to do it. " Talking about Axel she quite forgotthe apparition of the baroness that she had just seen. He was so kind, so good, so strong. How much she admired strength of purpose, independence, the character that was determined to find its happiness indoing its best. 

"If I had a daughter, " said the princess, filling Anna's cup, "sheshould marry Axel Lohm. "

"If _I_ had a daughter, " said Anna, "she should marry him, so yourscouldn't. I wouldn't even ask her if she liked it. I'd be so sure thatit was a good thing for her that I'd just say: 'My dear, I have chosenmy son-in-law. Get your hat, and come to church and marry him. ' Andthere'd be an end of _that_. "

The princess felt that it was an unprofitable employment, trying to helpon Axel's cause. She could not but see what he thought of Anna; andafter the touching manner of widows, was convinced of the superiority ofmarriage, as a means of real happiness for a woman, over any and everyother form of occupation. Yet whenever she talked of him she was met bythe same hearty agreement and frank enthusiasm, the very words beingtaken out of her mouth and her own praises of him doubled and trebled. It was a promising friendship, but it was a singularly unpromisingprelude to love. 

"Please make some fresh coffee, " begged Anna; "the others will be comingdown soon, and must not have cold stuff. " Her voice grew tender at themere mention of "the others. " For the princess and Axel, both of whomshe liked so much, it never took on those tender tones, as the princesshad already noted. There was nothing in either of them to appeal to thatside of her nature, the tender, mother side, which is in all good womenand most bad ones. They were her friends, staunch friends, she felt, andof course she liked and respected them; but they were sturdy, capablepeople, firmly planted on their own feet, able to battle successfullywith life--as different as possible from these helpless ones who neededher, whom she had saved, to whom she was everything, between whom andwant and sorrow she was fixed as a shield. 

Two of the helpless ones came in at that moment, with frosty, early-morning faces. Anna put the vision she had seen at the kitchendoor from her mind, and went to meet them with happy smiles andgreetings. Frau von Treumann did her best to respond warmly, but it wasvery early to be enthusiastic, and at that hour of the day she wasaccustomed to being a little cross. Besides, she had had no coffee yet, and her hostess evidently had, and that made a great difference to one'ssentiments. The baroness looked pinched and bloodless; she was as frigidas ever to Anna, said nothing about having seen her before, and seemedto want to be left alone. So that the mutual gazing into each other'seyes did not, after all, take place. 

The princess waited to see that they had all they wanted, and then wentout rattling her keys; and after an interval, during which Annachattered cheerful and ungrammatical German, and the window was shut, and warming food eaten, Frau von Treumann became amiable and began totalk. 

She drew from her pocket a letter and a photograph. "This is my son, "she said. "I brought it down to show you. And I have had a long letterfrom him already. He never neglects his mother. Truly a good son is asource of joy. "

"I suppose so, " said Anna. 

The baroness turned her eyes slowly round and fixed them on thephotograph. "Aha, " she thought, "the son again. Last night the son, thismorning the son--always the son. The excellent Treumann loses no time. "

"He is good-looking, my Karlchen, is he not?"

"Yes, " said Anna. "It is a becoming uniform. "

"Oh--becoming! He looks adorable in it. Especially on his horse. I wouldnot let him be anything but a hussar because of the charming uniform. And he suits it exactly--such a lightly built, graceful figure. _He_never stumbles over people's feet. Herr von Lohm nearly crushed my poorfoot last night. It was difficult not to scream. I never did admirethose long men made by the meter, who seem as though they would go onfor ever if there were no ceilings. "

"He _is_ rather long, " agreed Anna, smiling. 

"Heartwhole, " thought Frau von Treumann. "Tell me, dear MissEstcourt----" she said, laying her hand on Anna's. 

"Oh, don't call me Miss Estcourt. "

"But what, then?"

"Oh, you must call me Anna. We are to be like sisters here--and you, too, please, call me Anna, " she said, turning to the baroness. 

"You are very good, " said the baroness. 

"Well, my little sister, " said Frau von Treumann, smiling, "my babysister----"

"Baby sister!" thought the baroness. "Excellent Treumann. "

"--you know an old woman of my age could not really have a sister ofyours. "

"Yes, she could--not a whole sister, perhaps, but a half one. "

"Well, as you please. The idea is sweet to me. I was going to askyou--but Karlchen's letter is too touching, really--such thoughts init--such high ideals----" And she turned over the sheets, of which therewere three, and began to blow her nose. 

"He has written you a very long letter, " said Anna pleasantly; theextent to which the nose blowing was being carried made her uneasy. Wasthere to be crying?

"You have a cold, dear Frau von Treumann?" inquired the baroness withsolicitude. 

"_Ach nein--doch nein_, " murmured Frau von Treumann, turning the sheetsover, and blowing her nose harder than ever. 

"It will come off, " thought Letty, who had slipped in unnoticed, and waseating bread and butter alone at the further end of the table. 

"Poor thing, " thought Anna, "she adores that Karlchen. "

There was a pause, during which the nose continued to be blown. 

"His letter is beautiful, but sad--very sad, " said Frau von Treumann, shaking her head despondingly. "Poor boy--poor dear boy--he misses hismother, of course. I knew he would, but I did not dream it would be asbad as this. Oh, my dear Miss Estcourt--well, Anna then"--smilingfaintly--"I could never describe to you the wrench it was, the terrible, terrible wrench, leaving him who for five years--I am a widow fiveyears--has been my all. "

"It must have been dreadful, " murmured Anna sympathetically. 

The baroness sat straight and motionless, staring fixedly at Frau vonTreumann. 

"'When shall I see you again, my dearest mamma?' were his last words. And I could give him no hope--no answer. " The handkerchief went up toher eyes. 

"What _is_ she gassing about?" wondered Letty. 

"I can see him now, fading away on the platform as my train bore me offto an unknown life. An only son--the only son of a widow--is everything, everything to his mother. "

"He must be, " said Anna. 

There was another silence. Then Frau von Treumann wiped her eyes andtook up the letter again. "Now he writes that though I have only beenaway two days from Rislar, the town he is stationed at, it seems alreadylike years. Poor boy! He is quite desperate--listen to this--poorboy----" And she smiled a little, and read aloud, "'I must see you, _liebste, beste Mama_, from time to time. I had no idea the separationwould be like this, or I could never have let you go. Pray beg MissEstcourt----'"

"Aha, " thought the baroness. 

"'--to allow me to visit my mother occasionally. There must be an inn inthe village. If not, I could stay at Stralsund, and would in no wayintrude on her. But I must see my dearest mother, the being I havewatched over and cared for ever since my father's death. ' Poor, dear, foolish boy--he is desperate----" And she folded up the letter, shookher head, smiled, and suddenly buried her face in her handkerchief. 

"Excellent Treumann, " thought the unblinking baroness. 

Anna sat in some perplexity. Sons had not entered into her calculations. In the correspondence, she remembered, the son had been lightly passedover as an officer living on his pay and without a superfluous penny forthe support of his parent. Not a word had been said of any unusualaffection existing between them. Now it appeared that the mother and sonwere all in all to each other. If so, of course the separation wasdreadful. A mother's love was a sentiment that inspired Anna withprofound respect. Before its unknown depths and heights she stood in aweand silence. How could she, a spinster, even faintly comprehend thatsacred feeling? It was a mysterious and beautiful emotion that she couldonly reverence from afar. Clearly she must not come between parent andchild; but yet--yet she wished she had had more time to think it over. 

She looked rather helplessly at Frau von Treumann, and gave her hand alittle squeeze. The hand did not return the squeeze, and the faceremained buried in the handkerchief. Well, it would be absurd to want tocut off the son entirely from his mother. If he came occasionally to seeher it could not matter much. She gave the hand a firmer squeeze, andsaid with an effort that she did her best to conceal, "But he must comethen, when he can. It is rather a long way--didn't you say you had tostay a night in Berlin?"

"Oh, my dear Miss Estcourt--my dear Anna!" cried Frau von Treumann, snatching the handkerchief from her face and seizing Anna's hand in bothhers, "what a weight from my heart--what a heavy, heavy weight! Allnight I was thinking how shall I bear this? I may write to him, then, and tell him what you say? A long journey? You are afraid it will tirehim? Oh, it will be nothing, nothing at all to Karlchen if only he cansee his mother. How can I thank you! You will say my gratitude isexcessive for such a little thing, and truly only a mother couldunderstand it----"

In short, Karlchen's appearance at Kleinwalde was now only a matter ofdays. 

"_Unverschämt_, " was the baroness's mental comment. 

CHAPTER XIX

Anna put on her hat and went out to think it over. Fräulein Kuhräuberwas apparently still asleep. Letty, accompanied by Miss Leech, had to goto Lohm parsonage for her first lesson with Herr Klutz, who hadundertaken to teach her German. Frau von Treumann said she must write atonce to Karlchen, and shut herself up to do it. The baroness was vagueas to her intentions, and disappeared. So Anna started off by herself, crossed the road, and walked quickly away into the forest. "If it makesher so happy, then I am glad, " she said to herself. "She is here to behappy; and if she wants Karlchen so badly, why then she must have himfrom time to time. I wonder why I don't like Karlchen. "

She walked quickly, with her eyes on the ground. The mood in which shesang magnificats had left her, nor did she look to see what the Aprilmorning was doing. Frau von Treumann had not been under her rooftwenty-four hours, and already her son had been added--if onlyoccasionally, still undoubtedly added--to the party. Suppose thebaroness and Fräulein Kuhräuber should severally disclose an inabilityto live without being visited by some cherished relative? Suppose theother nine, the still Unchosen, should each turn out to have a relativewaiting tragically in the background for permission to make repeatedcalls? And suppose these relatives should all be male?

These were grave questions; so grave that she was quite at a loss how toanswer them. And then she felt that somebody was looking at her; andraising her eyes, she saw Axel on the mossy path quite close to her. 

"So deep in thought?" he asked, smiling at her start. 

Anna wondered how it was that he so often went through the forest. Wasit a short cut from Lohm to anywhere? She had met him three or fourtimes lately, in quite out of the way parts. He seemed to ride throughit and walk through it at all hours of the day. 

"How is your potato-planting getting on?" she asked involuntarily. Sheknew what a rush there was just then putting the potatoes in, for shedid not drive every day about her fields in a cart without springs withDellwig for nothing. Axel must have potatoes to plant too; why didn't hestay at home, then, and do it?

"What a truly proper question for a country lady to ask, " he said, looking amused. "You waste no time in conventional good mornings orasking how I do, but begin at once with potatoes. Well, I do not believethat you are really interested in mine, so I shall tell you nothingabout them. You only want to remind me that I ought to be seeing themplanted instead of walking about your woods. "

Anna smiled. "I believe I did mean something like that, " she said. 

"Well, I am not so aimless as you suppose, " he returned, walking by herside. "I have been looking at that place. "

"What place?"

"Where Dellwig wants to build the brick-kiln. "

"Oh! What do you think of it?"

"What I knew I would think of it. It is a fool's plan. The clay is themost wretched stuff. It has puzzled me, seeing how very poor it is, thathe should be so eager to have the thing. I should have credited him withmore sense. "

"He is quite absurdly keen on it. Last night I thought he would neverstop persuading. "

"But you did not give in?"

"Not an inch. I said I would ask you to look at it, and then he wassimply rude. I do believe he will have to go. I don't really think weshall ever get on together. Certainly, as you say the clay is bad, Ishall refuse to build a brick-kiln. "

Axel smiled at her energy. In the morning she was always determinedabout Dellwig. "You are very brave to-day, " he said. "Last night youseemed afraid of him. "

"He comes when I am tired. I am not going to see him in the evening anymore. It is too dreadful as a finish to a happy day. "

"It was a happy day, then, yesterday?" he asked quickly. 

"Yes--that is, it ought to have been, and probably would have beenif--if I hadn't been tired. "

"But the others--the new arrivals--they must have been happy?"

"Yes--oh yes--" said Anna, hesitating, "I think so. Fräulein Kuhräuberwas, I am sure, at intervals. I think the other two would have been ifthey hadn't had a journey. "

"By the way, do you remember what I said yesterday about the Elmreichs?"

"Yes, I do. You said horrid things. " Her voice changed. 

"About a Baron Elmreich. But he had a sister who made a hash of herlife. I saw her once or twice in Berlin. She was dancing at theWintergarten, and under her own name. "

"Poor thing. But it doesn't interest me. "

"Don't get angry yet. "

"But it doesn't interest me. And why shouldn't she dance? I knew severalpeople who ended by dancing at London Wintergartens. "

"You admit, then, that it is an end?"

"It is hardly a beginning, " conceded Anna. 

"She was so amazingly like your baroness would be if she painted andwore a wig----"

"That you are convinced they must be sisters. Thank you. Now what do yousuppose is the good of telling me that?" And she stood still and facedhim, her eyes flashing. 

Do what he would, Axel could not help smiling at her wrath. It was thewrath of a mother whose child has been hurt by someone on purpose, "Iwish, " he said, "that you would not be so angry when I tell you thingsthat might be important for you to know. If your baroness is really thesister of the dancing baroness----"

"But she is not. She told me last night that she has no brothers andsisters. And she wrote it in the letters before she came. Do you thinkit is a praiseworthy occupation for a man, doing his best to find outdisgraceful things about a very poor and very helpless woman?"

"No, I do not, " said Axel decidedly. "Under any other circumstances Iwould leave the poor lady to take her chance. But do consider, " he said, following her, for she had begun to walk on quickly again, "do consideryour unusual position. You are so young to be living away from yourfriends, and so young and inexperienced to be at the head of a home forhomeless women--you ought to be quite extraordinarily particular aboutthe antecedents of the people you take in. It would be most unpleasantif it got about that they were not respectable. "

"But they are respectable, " said Anna, looking straight before her. 

"A sister who dances at the Wintergarten----"

"Did I not tell you that she has no sister?"

Axel shrugged his shoulders. "The resemblance is so striking that theymight be twins, " he said. 

"Then you think she says what is not true?"

"How can I tell?"

Anna stopped again and faced him. "Well, suppose it were true--supposeit is her sister, and she has tried to hide it--do you know how I shouldfeel about it?"

"Properly scandalised, I hope. "

"I should love her all the more. Oh, I should love her twice as much!Why, think of the misery and the shame--poor, poor little woman--tryingto hide it all, bearing it all by herself--she must have loved hersister, she must have loved her brother. It isn't true, of course, butsupposing it were, could you tell me _any_ reason why I should turn myback on her?"

She stood looking at him, her eyes full of angry tears. 

He did not answer. If that was the way she felt, what could he do?

"I never understood, " she went on passionately, "why the innocent shouldbe punished. Do you suppose a woman would _like_ her brother to cheatand then shoot himself? Or _like_ her sister to go and dance? But ifthey do do these things, besides her own grief and horror, she is to beshunned by everybody as though she were infectious. Is that fair? Isthat right? Is it in the least Christian?"

"No, of course it is not. It is very hard and very ugly, but it is quitenatural. An old woman in a strong position might take such a person up, perhaps, and comfort her and love her as you propose to do, but a younggirl ought not to do anything of the sort. "

Anna turned away with a quick movement of impatience and walked on. "Ifyou argue on the young girl basis, " she said, "we shall never be able totalk about a single thing. When will you leave off about my younggirlishness? In five years I shall be thirty--will you go on till I havereached that blessed age?"

"I have no right to go on to you about anything, " said Axel. 

"Precisely, " said Anna. 

"But please remember that I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to youruncle, and make allowances for me if I am over-zealous in my anxiety toshield his niece from possible unpleasantness. "

"Then don't keep telling me I am too young to do good. It is ludicrous, considering my age, besides being dreadful. You will say that, Ibelieve, till I am thirty or forty, and then when you can't decently sayit any more, and I still want to do things, you'll say I'm old enough toknow better. "

Axel laughed. Anna's dimples appeared for an instant, but vanishedagain. 

"Now, " she said, "I am not going to talk about poor little Else anymore. Let her distant relations dance till they are tired--it concernsnobody here at all. "

"Little Else?"

"The baroness. Of course we shall call each other by our Christiannames. We are sisters. "

"I see. "

"You don't see at all, " she said, with a swift sideward glance at him. 

"My dear Miss Estcourt----"

"If my plan succeeds it will certainly not be because I have beenencouraged. "

"I think, " he said with sudden warmth, "that the plan is beautiful, andcould only have been made by a beautiful nature. "

"Oh?" ejaculated Anna, surprised. A flush of gratification came into herface. The heartiness of the tone surprised her even more than the words. She stood still to look at him. "It is a pity, " she said softly, "thatnearly always when we are together we get angry, for you can be so kindwhen you choose. Say nice things to me. Let us be happy. I love beinghappy. "

She held out her hand, smiling. He took it and gave it a hearty, matterof fact shake, and dropped it. It was very awkward, but he wasstruggling with an overpowering desire to take her in his arms and kissher, and not let her go again till she had said she would marry him. Itwas exceedingly awkward, for he knew quite well that if he did so itwould be the end of all things. 

He turned rather white, and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. "Yes, the plan is beautiful, " he said cheerfully, "but very unpractical. And the nature that made it is, I am sure, beautiful, but of coursequite as unpractical as the plan. " And he smiled down at her, a broad, genial smile. 

"I know I don't set about things the right way, " she said. "If only youwouldn't worry about the pasts of my poor friends and what theirrelations may have done in pre-historic times, you could help me somuch. "

To his relief she began to walk on again. "Princess Ludwig is a sensibleand experienced woman, " he said, "and can help you in many ways that Icannot. "

"But she only looks at the _praktische_ side of a question, and that isreally only one side. I am too unpractical, I know, but she isn'tunpractical enough. But I don't want to talk about her. What I wanted tosay was, that once these poor ladies have been chosen and are here, thetime for making inquiries is over, isn't it? As far as I am concerned, anyhow, it is. I shall never forsake them, never, _never_. So pleasedon't try to tell me things about them--it doesn't change my feelingstowards them, and only makes me angry with you. Which is a pity. I wantto live at peace with my neighbour. "

"Well?" he said, as she paused. "That, I take it, is a prelude tosomething else. "

"Yes, it is. It's a prelude to Karlchen. "

"To Karlchen?"

She looked at him, and laughed rather nervously. "I am afraid, " shesaid, "that Karlchen is coming to stay with me. "

"And who, pray, is Karlchen?"

"The only son of his mother, and she is a widow. "

He came to a standstill again. "What, " he said, "Frau von Treumann hasasked you to invite her son to Kleinwalde?"

"She didn't actually ask, but she got a sad letter from him, and seemedto feel the separation so much, and cried about it, and so--and so Idid. "

Axel was silent. 

"I don't yearn to see Karlchen, " said Anna in rather a small voice. Shecould not help feeling that the invitation had been wrung from her. 

Axel bored a hole in the moss with his stick, and did not answer. 

"But naturally his poor mother clings to him, and he to her. "

Axel was intent on his hole and did not answer. 

"They are all the world to each other. "

Axel filled up his hole again, and pressed the moss carefully over itwith his foot. Then he said, "I never yet heard of two Treumanns beingall the world to each other. "

"You appear to have a down on the Treumanns. "

"Not in the least. I do not think they interest me enough. It is an EastPrussian Junker family that has spread beyond its natural limits, andone meets them everywhere, and knows their characteristics. What is thisyoung man? I do not remember having heard of him. "

"He is an officer at Rislar. "

"At Rislar? Those are the red hussars. Do you wish me to make inquiriesabout him?"

"Oh, no. It's no use. His mother can't be happy without him, so he mustcome. "

"Then may I ask why, if I am not to help you in the matter, we aretalking about him at all?"

"I wanted to ask you whether--whether you think he will come often. "

"I should think, " said Axel positively, "that he will come very oftenindeed. "

"Oh!" said Anna. 

They walked on in silence. 

"Have you considered, " he said presently, "what you would do if yourother--sisters want their relations asked down to stay with them?Christmas, for instance, is a time of general rejoicing, when thecoldest hearts grow warm. Relations who have quarrelled all the year, seek each other out at Christmas and talk tearfully of ties of blood. And birthdays--will your twelve sisters be content to spend their twelvebirthdays remote from all members of their family? Birthdays here areimportant days. There will be one a month now for you to celebrate atKleinwalde. "

"I have not got farther than considering Karlchen, " said Anna with someimpatience. 

"A male Kuhräuber, " said Axel musingly, swinging his stick and gazing upat the fleecy clouds floating over the pine tops, "a male Kuhräuberwould be quite unlike anything you have yet seen. "

"There are no male Kuhräubers, " said Anna. "At least, " she added, correcting herself, "Fräulein Kuhräuber said so. She said she had norelations at all, but perhaps--perhaps she has forgotten some, and willremember them by and by. Oh, I wish they would tell me exactly how theystand, and not try to hide anything! I thought we had left nothingunexplained in the letters, but now Karlchen--it seems----" She stoppedand bit her lip. She was actually on the verge of criticising, to Axel, the behaviour of her sisters. "Look, " she said, catching sight of redroofs through the thinning trees, "isn't that Lohm? I have seen you homewithout knowing it. "

She held out her hand. "It isn't much good talking, is it?" she said, moved by a sudden impulse, and looking up at him with a slightly wistfulsmile. "How we talk and talk and never get any nearer anything or eachother. Such an amount of explaining oneself, and all no use. I don'tmean you and me especially--it is always so, with everyone andeverywhere. It is very weird. Good-bye. "

But he held her hand and would not let her go. "No, " he said, in a voiceshe did not know, "wait one moment. Why will you not let me really helpyou? Do you think you will ever achieve anything by shutting your eyesto what is true? Is it not better to face it, and then to do one'sbest--after that, knowing the truth? Why are you angry whenever I try totell you the truth, or what I believe to be the truth about theseladies? You are certain to find it out for yourself one day. You forceme to look on and see you being disappointed, and grieved, and perhapscheated--anyhow your confidence abused--and you reduce our talkstogether to a sort of sparring match unworthy, quite unworthy of eitherof us----" He broke off abruptly and released her hand. The passion inhis voice was unmistakable, and she was listening with astonished eyes. "I am lecturing you, " he said in his usual even tones, "Forgive me forthinking that you are setting about your plan in a way that can never besuccessful. As you say, we talk and talk, and the more we talk the lessdo we understand each other. It is a foolish world, and a pre-eminentlylonely one. "

He lifted his hat and turned away. Anna opened her lips to saysomething, but he was gone. 

She went home and meditated on volcanoes. 

CHAPTER XX

The May that year in Northern Germany was the May of a poet's dream. Thedays were like a chain of pearls, increasing in beauty and preciousnessas the chain lengthened. The lilacs flowered a fortnight earlier than inother years. The winds, so restless usually on those flat shores, seemedall asleep, and hardly stirred. About the middle of the month the moonwas at the full, and the forest became enchanted ground. It was a timefor love and lovers, for vows and kisses, for all pretty, happy, hopefulthings. Only those farmers who were too old to love and vow, looked attheir rye fields and grumbled because there was no rain. 

Karlchen, arriving on the first Saturday of that blessed month, felt alldisposed to love, if the _Engländerin_ should turn out to be in theleast degree lovable. He did not ask much of a young woman with afortune, but he inwardly prayed that she might not be quite so ugly aswives with money sometimes are. He was a man used to having what hewanted, and had spent his own and his mother's money in getting it. There was a little bald patch on the top of his head, and there weremany debts on his mind, and he was nearing the critical point in anofficer's career, the turning of which is reserved exclusively for theefficient; and so he had three excellent reasons for desiring to marry. He had desired it, indeed, for some time, had attempted it often, andhad not achieved it. The fathers of wealthy German girls knew the stateof his finances with an exactitude that was unworthy; and they knew, besides, every one of his little weaknesses. As a result, they gavetheir daughters to other suitors. But here was a girl without a father, who knew nothing about him at all. There was, of course, some story inthe background to account for her living in this way; but that wasprecisely what would make her glad of a husband who would relieve her ofthe necessity of building up the weaker parts of her reputation on afoundation of what Karlchen, when he saw the inmates of the house, rudely stigmatised as _alte Schachteln_. Reputations, he reflected, staring at Fräulein Kuhräuber, may be too dearly bought. Naturally shewould prefer an easy-going husband, who would let her see life with allits fun, to this dreary and aimless existence. 

The Treumanns, he thought, were in luck. What a burden his mother hadbeen on him for the last five years! Miss Estcourt had relieved him ofit. Now there were his debts, and she would relieve him of those; andthe little entanglement she must have had at home would not matter inGermany, where no one knew anything about her, except that she was thehighly respectable Joachim's niece. Anyway, he was perfectly willing tolet bygones be bygones. He left his bag at the inn at Kleinwalde, animpossible place as he noted with pleasure, sent away his _Droschke_, and walked round to the house; but he did not see Anna. She kept out ofthe way till the evening, and he had ample time to be happy with hismother. When he did see her, he fell in love with her at once. He hadquite a simple nature, composed wholly of instincts, and fell in lovewith an ease acquired by long practice. Anna's face and figure were farprettier than he had dared to hope. She was a beauty, he told himselfwith much satisfaction. Truly the Treumanns were in luck. He entirelyforgot the _rôle_ he was to play of loving son, and devoted himself, with his habitual artlessness, to her. Indeed, if he had not forgottenit, he and his mother were so little accustomed to displays of affectionthat they would have been but clumsy actors. There is a great differencebetween affectionate letters written quietly in one's room, andaffectionate conversation that has to sound as though it welled up fromone's heart. Nothing of the kind ever welled up from Karlchen's heart;and Anna noticed at once that there were no signs of unusual attachmentbetween mother and son. Karlchen was not even commonly polite to hismother, nor did she seem to expect him to be. When she dropped herscissors, she had to pick them up for herself. When she lost herthimble, she hunted for it alone. When she wanted a footstool, she gotup and fetched one from under his very nose. When she came into the roomand looked about for a chair, it was Letty who offered her hers. Karlchen sat comfortably with his legs crossed, playing with thepaper-knife he had taken out of the book Anna had been reading, andmaking himself pleasant. He had his mother's large black eyes, and verylong thick black eyelashes of which he was proud, conscious that theyrested becomingly on his cheeks when he looked down at the paper-knife. Letty was greatly struck by them, and inquired of Miss Leech in awhisper whether she had ever seen their like. 

"Mr. Jessup had silken eyelashes too, " replied Miss Leech dreamily. 

"These aren't silk--they're cotton eyelashes, " said Letty scornfully. 

"My dear Letty, " murmured Miss Leech. 

Anna was at a disadvantage because of her imperfect German. She couldnot repress Karlchen when he was unduly kind as she would have done inEnglish, and with his mother presiding, as it were, at their openingfriendship, she did not like to begin by looking lofty. Luckily theprincess was unusually chatty that evening. She sat next to Karlchen, and continually joined in the talk. She was cheerful amiability itself, and insisted upon being told all about those sons of her acquaintanceswho were in his regiment. When he half turned his back on her anddropped his voice to a rapid undertone, thereby making himselfcompletely incomprehensible to Anna, the princess pleasantly advised himto speak very slowly and distinctly, for unless he did Miss Estcourtwould certainly not understand. In a word, she took him under her wingwhether he would or no, and persisted in her friendliness in spite ofhis mother's increasingly desperate efforts to draw her intoconversation. 

"Why do we not go out, dear Anna?" cried Frau von Treumann at last, unable to endure Princess Ludwig's behaviour any longer. "Look what afine evening it is--and quite warm. " And she who till then had goneabout shutting windows, and had been unable to bear the least breath ofair, herself opened the glass doors leading into the garden and wentout. 

But although they all followed her, nothing was gained by it. Shecould have stamped her foot with rage at the princess's conduct. Here was everything needful for the beginning of a successfulcourtship--starlight, a murmuring sea, warm air, fragrant bushes, a girlwho looked like Love itself in the dusk in her pale beauty, a young mandesiring nothing better than to be allowed to love her, and a motheronly waiting to bless. But here too, unfortunately, was the princess. 

She was quite appallingly sociable--"The spite of the woman!" thoughtFrau von Treumann, for what could it matter to her?--and remained fixedat Anna's side as they paced slowly up and down the grass, monopolisingKarlchen's attention with her absurd questions about his brotherofficers. Anna walked between them, thinking of other things, holding upher trailing white dress with one hand, and with the other the edges ofher blue cloak together at her neck. She was half a head taller thanKarlchen, and so was his mother, who walked on his other side. Karlchen, becoming more and more enamoured the longer he walked, looked up at herthrough his eyelashes and told himself that the Treumanns were certainlyin luck, for he had stumbled on a goddess. 

"The grass is damp, " cried Frau von Treumann, interrupting the endlessquestions. "My dear princess--your rheumatism--and I who so easily getcolds. Come, we will go off the grass--we are not young enough to riskwet feet. "

"I do not feel it, " said the princess, "I have thick shoes. But you, dear Frau von Treumann, do not stay if you have fears. "

"It _is_ damp, " said Anna, turning up the sole of her shoe. "Shall we goon to the path?"

On the path it was obvious that they must walk in couples. Arrived atits edge, the princess stopped and looked round with an urbane smile. "My dear child, " she said to Anna, taking her arm, "we have been keepingHerr von Treumann from his mother regardless of his feelings. I beg youto pardon my thoughtlessness, " she added, turning to him, "but myinterest in hearing of my old friends' sons has made me quite forgetthat you took this long journey to be with your dear mother. We will notinterrupt you further. Come, my dear, I wanted to ask you----" And sheled Anna away, dropping her voice to a confidential questioningconcerning the engaging of a new cook. 

There was nothing to be done. The only crumb of comfort Karlchenobtained--but it was a big one--was a reluctantly given invitation, onhis mother's vividly describing at the hour of parting the place wherehe was to spend the night, to remove his luggage from the inn to Anna'shouse, and to sleep there. 

"You are too good, _meine Gnädigste_, " he said, consoled by this for the_tête-à-tête_ he had just had with his mother; "but if it in any wayinconveniences you--we soldiers are used to roughing it----"

"But not like that, not like that, _lieber Junge_, " interrupted hismother anxiously. "It is not fit for a dog, that inn, and I heard thisvery evening from the housemaid that one of the children there has themeasles. "

That quite settled it. Anna could not expose Karlchen to measles. Whydid he not stay, as he had written he would, at Stralsund? As he washere, however, she could not let him fall a prey to measles, and sheasked the princess to order a room to be got ready. 

It is a proof of her solemnity on that first evening with Karlchen thatwhen his mother, praising her beauty, mentioned her dimples as speciallybewitching, he should have said, surprised, "What dimples?"

It is a proof, too, of the duplicity of mothers, that the very next dayin church the princess, sitting opposite the innkeeper's rosy family, and counting its members between the verses of the hymn, should havefound that not one was missing. 

Karlchen left on Sunday evening after a not very successful visit. Hehad been to church, believing that it was expected of him, and had foundto his disgust that Anna had gone for a walk. So there he sat, betweenhis mother and Princess Ludwig, and extracted what consolation he couldfrom a studied neglect of the outer forms of worship and an elaborateslumber during the sermon. 

The morning, then, was wasted. At luncheon Anna was unapproachable. Karlchen was invited to sit next to his mother, and Anna was protectedby Letty on the one hand and Fräulein Kuhräuber on the other, and shetalked the whole time to Fräulein Kuhräuber. 

"Who _is_ Fräulein Kuhräuber?" he inquired irritably of his mother, whenthey found themselves alone together again in the afternoon. 

"Well, you can see who she is, I should think, " replied his motherequally irritably. "She is just Fräulein Kuhräuber, and nothing more. "

"Anna talks to her more than to anyone, " he said; she was already "Anna"to him, _tout court_. 

"Yes. It is disgusting. "

"It is very disgusting. It is not right that Treumanns should be forcedto associate on equal terms with such a person. "

"It is scandalous. But you will change all that. "

Karlchen twisted up the ends of his moustache and looked down his nose. He often looked down his nose because of his eyelashes. He began to huma tune, and felt happy again. Axel Lohm was right when he doubtedwhether there had ever been a permanently crushed Treumann. 

"She has a strange assortment of _alte Schachteln_ here, " he said, aftera pause during which his thoughts were rosy. "That Elmreich, now. Whatrelation does she say she is to Arthur Elmreich?"

"The man who shot himself? Oh, she is no relation at all. At most adistant cousin. "

"_Na, na_, " was Karlchen's reply; a reply whose English equivalent wouldbe a profoundly sceptical wink. 

His mother looked at him, waiting for more. 

"What do you really think----?" she began, and then stopped. 

He stood before the glass readjusting his moustache into the regulationtruculent upward twist. "Think?" he said. "You know Arthur's sisterLolli was engaged at the Wintergarten this winter. She was not much of asuccess. Too old. But she was down on the bills as Baroness Elmreich, and people went to see her because of that, and because of her brother. "

"Oh--terrible, " murmured Frau von Treumann. 

"Well, I know her; and I shall ask her next time I see her if she has asister. "

"But this one has no relations living at all, " said his mother, horrified at the bare suggestion that Lolli was the sister of a personwith whom she ate her dinner every day. 

"_Na, na_, " said Karlchen. 

"But my dear Karlchen, it is so unlikely--the baroness is the veriestpattern of primness. She has such very strict views about all suchthings--quite absurdly strict. She even had doubts, she told me, whenfirst she came here, as to whether Anna were a fit companion for her. "

Karlchen stopped twisting his moustache, and stared at his mother. Thenhe threw back his head and shrieked with laughter. He laughed so muchthat for some moments he could not speak. His mother's face, as shewatched him without a smile, made him laugh still more. "_LiebsteMama_, " he said at last, wiping his eyes, "it may of course not be true. It is just possible that it is not. But I feel sure it _is_ true, forthis Elmreich and the little Lolli are as alike as two peas. Anna not afit companion for Lolli's sister! _Ach Gott, ach Gott!_" And he shriekedagain. 

"If it is true, " said Frau von Treumann, drawing herself up to her fullheight, "it is my duty to tell Anna. I cannot stay under the same roofwith such a woman. She must go. "

"Take care, " said her son, illumined by an unaccustomed ray of sapience, "take care, _Mutti_. It is not certain that Anna would send her away. "

"What! if she knew about this--this Lolli, as you call her?"

Karlchen shook his head. "It is better not to begin with ultimatums, " hesaid sagely. "If you say you cannot stay under the same roof with theElmreich, and she does not after that go, why then you must. And that, "he added, looking alarmed, "would be disastrous. No, no, leave it alone. In any case leave it alone till I have seen Lolli. I shall come downsoon again, you may be sure. I wish we could get rid of the Penheim. Nowthat really would be a good thing. Think it over. "

But Frau von Treumann felt that by no amount of thinking it over wouldthey ever get rid of the Penheim. 

"You do not like my Karlchen?" she said plaintively to Anna thatevening, coming out into the dusky garden where she stood looking at thestars. Karlchen was well on his way to Berlin by that time. 

"I am sure I should like him very much if I knew him, " replied Anna, putting all the heartiness she could muster into her voice. 

Frau von Treumann shook her head sadly. "But now? I see you do not likehim now. You hardly spoke to him. He was hurt. A mother"--"Oh, " thoughtAnna, "I am tired of mothers, "--"a mother always knows. "

Her handkerchief came out. She had put one hand through Anna's arm, andwith the other began to wipe her eyes. Anna watched her in silence. 

"What? What? Tears? Do I see tears? Are we then missing our son somuch?" exclaimed a cheery voice behind them. And there was the princessagain. 

"Serpent, " thought Frau von Treumann; but what is the use of thinkingserpent? She had to submit to being consoled all the same, while Annawalked away. 

CHAPTER XXI

Anna seemed always to be walking away during the days that separatedKarlchen's first visit from his second. Frau von Treumann noticed itwith some uneasiness, and hoped that it was only her fancy. The girl hadshown herself possessed of such an abnormally large and warm heart atfirst, had been so eager in her offers of affection, so enthusiastic, sosympathetic, so--well, absurd; was it possible that there was no warmthand no affection left over from those vast stores for such agood-looking, agreeable man as Karlchen? But she set such thoughts asideas ridiculous. Her son's simple doctrine from his fourteenth year on hadbeen that all girls like all men. It had often been laid down by him intheir talks together, and her own experience of girls had sufficientlyproved its soundness. "The Penheim must have poisoned her mind againsthim, " she decided at last, unable otherwise to explain the apathy withwhich Anna received any news of Karlchen. Was there ever such sheerspite? For what could it matter to a woman with no son of her own, whomarried Anna? Somebody would marry her, for certain, and the Penheimwould lose her place; then why should it not be Karlchen?

The princess, however, most innocent of excellent women, had neverspoken privately to Anna of Karlchen except once, when she inquiredwhether he were to have the best sheets on his bed, or the second bestsheets; and Anna had replied, "The worst. "

But if Frau von Treumann was uneasy about Anna, Anna was still moreuneasy about Frau von Treumann. Whenever she could, she went away intothe forest and tried to think things out. She objected very much to thefeeling that life seemed somehow to be thickening round her--yet, afterKarlchen's visit there it was. Each day there were fewer and fewer quietpauses in the trivial bustle of existence; clear moments, like windowsthrough which she caught glimpses of the serene tranquillity with whichthe real day, nature's day, the day she ought to have had, was passing. Frau von Treumann followed her about and talked to her of Karlchen. Fräulein Kuhräuber followed her about, with a humble, dog-likeaffection, and seemed to want to tell her something, and never gotfurther than dark utterances that perplexed her. Baroness Elmreichrepulsed all her advances, carefully called her Miss Estcourt, and madeacid comments on everything that was said and done. "I believe shedislikes me, " thought Anna, puzzled. "I wonder why?" The baroness did;and the reason was simplicity itself. She disliked her because she wasyounger, prettier, richer, healthier than herself. For this she dislikedher heartily; but with far greater heartiness did she dislike herbecause she knew she ought to be grateful to her. The baroness detestedhaving to feel grateful--it is a detestation not confined tobaronesses--and in this case the burden of the obligations she was underwas so great that it was almost past endurance. And there was no escape. She had been starving when Anna took her in, and she would starve againif Anna turned her out. She owed her everything; and what more natural, then, than to dislike her? The rarest of loves is the love of a debtorfor his creditor. 

At night, alone in her room, Anna would wonder at the day lived through, at the unsatisfactoriness of it, and the emptiness. When were they goingto begin the better life, the soul to soul life she was waiting for? Howbusy they had all been, and what had they done? Why, nothing. A littleaimless talking, a little aimless sewing, a little aimless walkingabout, a few letters to write that need not have been written, anewspaper to glance into that did not really interest anybody, meals inrapid succession, night, and oblivion. That was what was on the surface. What was beneath the surface she could only guess at; for after a wholefortnight with the Chosen she was still confronted solely by surfaces. In the hot forest, drowsy and aromatic, where the white butterflies, like points of light among the shadows of the pine-trunks, fluttered upand down the unending avenues all day long, she wandered, during theafternoon hour when the Chosen napped, to the most out-of-the-way nooksshe could find; and sitting on the moss where she could see some specialbit of loveliness, some distant radiant meadow in the sunlight beyondthe trees, some bush with its delicate green shower of budding leaves atthe foot of a giant pine, some exquisite effect of blue and whitebetween the branches so far above her head, she would ponder and pondertill she was weary. 

There was no mistaking Karlchen's looks; she had not been a pretty girlfor several seasons at home in vain. Karlchen meant to marry her. She, of course, did not mean to marry Karlchen, but that did not smooth anyof the ruggedness out of the path she saw opening before her. She wouldhave to endure the preliminary blandishments of the wooing, and when thewooing itself had reached the state of ripeness which would enable herto let him know plainly her own intentions, there would be a grievousnumber of scenes to be gone through with his mother. And then his motherwould shake the Kleinwalde dust from her offended feet and go, andfailure number one would be upon her. In the innermost recesses of herheart, offensive as Karlchen's wooing would certainly be, she thoughtthat once it was over it would not have been a bad thing; for, since hisvisit, it was clear that Frau von Treumann was not the sort of inmateshe had dreamed of for her home for the unhappy. Unhappy she hadundoubtedly been, poor thing, but happy with Anna she would never be. She had forgiven the first fibs the poor lady had told her, but shecould not go on forgiving fibs for ever. All those elaborate untruths, written and spoken, about Karlchen's visit, how dreadful they were. Surely, thought Anna, truthfulness was not only a lovely and a pleasantthing but it was absolutely indispensable as the basis to a realfriendship. How could any soul approach another soul through a networkof lies? And then more painful still--she confessed with shame that itwas more painful to her even than the lies--Frau von Treumann evidentlytook her for a fool. Not merely for a person wanting in intelligence, orslow-witted, but for a downright fool. She must think so, or she wouldhave taken more pains, at least some pains, to make her schemes a littleless transparent. Anna hated herself for feeling mortified by this; butmortified she certainly was. Even a philosopher does not like to behonestly mistaken during an entire fortnight for a fool. Though he maysmile, he will almost surely wince. Not being a philosopher, Anna wincedand did not smile. 

"I think, " she said to Manske, when he came in one morning with a listof selected applications, "I think we will wait a little before choosingthe other nine. "

"The gracious one is not weary of well-doing?" he asked quickly. 

"Oh no, not at all; I like well-doing, " Anna said rather lamely, "but itis not quite--not quite as simple as it looks. "

"I have found nine most deserving cases, " he urged, "and later there maynot be----"

"No, no, " interrupted Anna, "we will wait. In the autumn, perhaps--notnow. First I must make the ones who are here happy. You know, " she said, smiling, "they came here to be made happy. "

"Yes, truly I know it. And happy indeed must they be in this home, surrounded by all that makes life fair and desirable. "

"One would think so, " said Anna, musing. "It is pretty here, isn'tit--it should be easy to be happy here, --yet I am not sure that theyare. "

"Not sure----?" Manske looked at her, startled. 

"What do people--most people, ordinary people, need, to make themhappy?" she asked wistfully. She was speaking to herself more than tohim, and did not expect any very illuminating answer. 

"The fear of the Lord, " he replied promptly; which put an end to theconversation. 

But besides her perplexities about the Chosen, Anna had other worries. Dellwig had received the refusal to let him build the brick-kiln withsuch insolence, and had, in his anger, said such extraordinary thingsabout Axel Lohm, that Anna had blazed out too, and had told him he mustgo. It had been an unpleasant scene, and she had come out from it whiteand trembling. She had intended to ask Axel to do the dismissing for herif she should ever definitely decide to send him away; but she had beenoverwhelmed by a sudden passion of wrath at the man's intolerableinsinuations--only half understood, but sounding for that reason worsethan they were--and had done it herself. Since then she had not seenhim. By the agreement her uncle had made with him, he was entitled tosix months' notice, and would not leave until the winter, and she knewshe could not continue to refuse to see him; but how she dreaded thenext interview! And how uneasy she felt at the thought that themanagement of her estate was entirely in the hands of a man who must nowbe her enemy. Axel was equally anxious, when he heard what she had done. It had to be done, of course; but he did not like Dellwig's looks whenhe met him. He asked Anna to allow him to ride round her place as oftenas he could, and she was grateful to him, for she knew that not only herown existence, but the existence of her poor friends, depended on theright cultivation of Kleinwalde. And she was so helpless. What creatureon earth could be more helpless than an English girl in her position?She left off reading Maeterlinck, borrowed books on farming from Axel, and eagerly studied them, learning by heart before breakfast long pagesconcerning the peculiarities of her two chief products, potatoes andpigs. 

"He cannot do much harm, " Axel assured her; "the potatoes, I see, areall in, and what can he do to the pigs? His own vanity would prevent hisleaving the place in a bad state. I have heard of a good man--shall Ihave him down and interview him for you?"

"How kind you are, " said Anna gratefully; indeed, he seemed to her to bea tower of strength. 

"Anyone would do what they could to help a forlorn young lady in thestraits you are in, " he said, smiling at her. 

"I don't feel like a forlorn young lady with you next door to help meout of the difficulties. "

"People in these lonely country places learn to be neighbourly, " hereplied in his most measured tones. 

He had not again spoken of the Chosen since his walk with her throughthe forest; and though he knew that Karlchen had been and gone he didnot mention his name. Nor did Anna. The longer she lived with hersisters the less did she care to talk about them, especially to Axel. Asfor Frau von Treumann's plans, how could she ever tell him of those?

And just then Letty, the only being who was really satisfactory, becamea cause to her of fresh perplexity. Letty had been strangely contentwith her German lessons from Herr Klutz. Every day she and Miss Leechset out without a murmur, and came back looking placid. They broughtback little offerings from the parsonage, a bunch of narcissus, thefirst lilac, cakes baked by Frau Manske, always something. Anna took theflowers, and ate the cakes, and sent pleased messages in return. If shehad been less preoccupied by Dellwig and the eccentricities of her threenew friends, she would certainly have been struck by Letty's silenceabout her lessons, and would have questioned her. There was no grumblingafter the first day, and no abuse of Schiller and the muses. Once Annamet Klutz walking through Kleinwalde, and asked him how the studies wereprogressing. "Colossal, " was the reply, "the progress made is colossal. "And he crushed her rings into her fingers when she gave him her hand toshake, and blushed, and looked at her with eyes that he felt must burninto her soul. But Anna noticed neither his eyes nor his blush; for hiseyes, whatever he might feel them to be doing, were not the kind thatburn into souls, and he was a pale young man who, when he blushed, didit only in his ears. They certainly turned crimson as he crushed Anna'sfingers, but she was not thinking of his ears. 

"Frau Manske is too kind, " she said, as the nosegays, at firstintermittent, became things of daily occurrence. They grew bigger, too, every day, attaining such a girth at last that Letty could hardly carrythem. "She must not plunder her garden like this. "

"It is very full of flowers, " said Miss Leech. "Really a wonderfuldisplay. The bunch is always ready, tied together and lying on the tablewhen we arrive. I tried to tell her yesterday that you were afraid shewas spoiling her garden, sending so much, but she did not seem tounderstand. She is showing me how to make those cakes you said youliked. "

"I wish I had some of these in my garden, " said Anna, laying her cheekagainst the posy of wallflowers Letty had just given her. There wasnothing in her garden except grass and trees; Uncle Joachim had not beena man of flowers. 

She took them up to her room, kissing them on the way, and put them in ajar on the window-sill; and it was not until two or three days later, when they began to fade, that she saw the corner of an envelope peepingout from among them. She pulled it out and opened it. It was addressedto _Ihr Hochwohlgeboren Fräulein Anna Estcourt_; and inside was a sheetof notepaper with a large red heart painted on it, mangled, and piercedby an arrow; and below it the following poem in a cramped, hardlyreadable writing:--

 The earth am I, and thou the heaven, The mass am I, and thou the leaven, No other heaven do I want but thee, Oh Anna, Anna, Anna, pity me!

 AUGUST KLUTZ, Kandidat. 

In an instant Letty's unnatural cheerfulness about her lessons flashedacross her. _What_ had they been doing, and where was Miss Leech, thatsuch things could happen?

It was a very terrible, stern-browed aunt who met Letty that day on thestairs when she came home. 

"Hullo, Aunt Anna, seen a ghost?" Letty inquired pleasantly; but herheart sank into her boots all the same as she followed her into herroom. 

"Look, " said Anna, showing her the paper, "how could you do it? For ofcourse you did it. Herr Klutz doesn't speak English. "

"Doesn't he though--he gets on like anything. He sits up all night----"

"How is it that _this_ was possible?" interrupted Anna, striking thepaper with her hand. 

"It's pretty, isn't it, " said Letty, faintly grinning. "The last linehad to be changed a little. It isn't original, you know, except theAnnas. I put in those. That footman mother got cheap because he had onefinger too few sent it to Hilton on her birthday last year--she liked itawfully. The last line was 'Oh Hilton, Hilton, Hilton----'"

"_How_ came you to talk such hideous nonsense with Herr Klutz, and aboutme?"

"I didn't. He began. He talked about you the whole time, and starteddoing it the very first day Leechy cooked. "

"Cooked?"

"She is always in the kitchen with Frau Manske. We brought you some ofthe cakes one day, and you seemed as pleased as anything. "

"And instead of learning German you and he have been making up this sortof thing?"

Anna's voice and eyes frightened Letty. She shifted from one foot to theother and looked down sullenly. "What's the good of being angry?" shesaid, addressing the carpet; "it's only Mr. Jessup over again. Leechywasn't angry with Mr. Jessup. She was frightfully pleased. She says it'sthe greatest compliment a person can pay anybody, going on about themlike Herr Klutz does, and talking rot. "

Anna stared at her, bewildered. "Mr. Jessup?" she repeated. "And do youmean to tell me that Miss Leech knows of this--this disgustingnonsense?" She held the mangled heart at arm's length, crushing it inher hand. 

"I say, you'll spoil it. He worked at it for days. There weren't anypaints red enough for the wound, and he had to go to Stralsund onpurpose. He thought no end of it. " And Letty, scared though she was, could not resist giggling a little. 

"Do you mean to tell me that Miss Leech knows about this?" insistedAnna. 

"Rather not. It's a secret. He made me promise faithfully never to tella soul. Of course it doesn't matter talking to you, because you're oneof the persons concerned. You can't be married, you know, withoutknowing about it, so I'm not breaking my promise talking to you----"

"Married? What unutterable rubbish have you got into your head?"

"That's what I said--or something like it. I said it was jolly rot. Hesaid, 'What's rot?' I said 'That. '"

"But what?" asked Anna angrily. She longed to shake her. 

"Why, that about marrying you. I told him it was rot, and I was sure youwouldn't, but as he didn't know what rot was, it wasn't much good. Hehunted it out in the dictionary, and still he didn't know. "

Anna stood looking at her with indignant eyes. "You don't know what youhave done, " she said, "evidently you don't. It is a dreadful thing thatthe moment Miss Leech leaves you you should begin to talk of suchthings--such horrid things--with a stranger. A little girl of yourage----"

"I didn't begin, " whimpered Letty, overcome by the wrath in Anna'svoice. 

"But all this time you have been going on with it, instead of at oncetelling Miss Leech or me. "

"I never met a--a lover before--I thought it--great fun. "

"Then all those flowers were from him?"

"Ye--es. " Letty was in tears. 

"He thought I knew they were from him?"

No answer. 

"Did he?" insisted Anna. 

"Ye--es. "

"You are a very wicked little girl, " said Anna, with awful sternness. "You have been acting untruths every day for ages, which is just as badas telling them. I don't believe you have an idea of the horridness ofwhat you have done--I hope you have not. Of course your lessons at Lohmhave come to an end. You will not go there again. Probably I shall sendyou home to your mother. I am nearly sure that I shall. Go away. " Andshe pointed to the door. 

That night neither Letty nor Miss Leech appeared at supper; both wereshut up in their rooms in tears. Miss Leech was quite unable to forgiveherself. It was all her fault, she felt. She had been appalled when Annashowed her the heart and told her what had been going on while she waslearning to cook in Frau Manske's kitchen. "Such a quiet, respectable-looking young man!" she exclaimed, horror-stricken. "Andabout to take holy orders!"

"Well, you see he isn't quiet and respectable at all, " said Anna. "He isunusually enterprising, and quite without morals. Only a demoralisedperson would take advantage of a poor little pupil in that way. "

She lit a candle, and burnt the heart. "There, " she said, when it was inashes, "that's the end of that. Heaven knows what Letty has been ledinto saying, or what ideas he has put into her head. I can't bear tothink of it. I hadn't the courage to cross-question her much--I wasafraid I should hear something that would make me too angry, and I'dhave to tell the parson. Anyhow, dear Miss Leech, we will not leave heralone again, ever, will we? I don't suppose a thing like this willhappen twice, but we won't let it have a chance, will we? Now don't betoo unhappy. Tell me about Mr. Jessup. "

It was Miss Leech's fault, Anna knew; but she so evidently knew itherself, and was so deeply distressed, that rebukes were out of thequestion. She spent the evening and most of the night in uselesslaments, while, in the room adjoining, Letty lay face downwards on herbed, bathed in tears. For Letty's conscience was in a grievous state oftumult. She had meant well, and she had done badly. She had not thoughther aunt would be angry--was she not in full possession of the factsconcerning Mr. Jessup's courtship? And had not Miss Leech said that nohigher honour could be paid to a woman than to fall in love with her andmake her an offer of marriage? Herr Klutz, it is true, was not the sortof person her aunt could marry, for her aunt was stricken in years, andhe looked about the same age as her brother Peter; besides, he wasclearly, thought Letty, of the guttersnipe class, a class that bit itsnails and never married people's aunts. But, after all, her aunt couldalways say No when the supreme moment arrived, and nobody ought to beoffended because they had been fallen in love with, and he wasfrightfully in love, and talked the most awful rot. Nor had sheencouraged him. On the contrary, she had discouraged him; but it wasprecisely this discouragement, so virtuously administered, that lay soheavily on her conscience as she lay so heavily on her bed. She had beenproud of it till this interview with her aunt; since then it had takenon a different complexion, and she was sure, dreadfully sure, that ifher aunt knew of it she would be very angry indeed--much, much angrierthan she was before. Letty rolled on her bed in torments; for thediscouragement administered to Klutz had been in the form of poetry, andpoetry written on her aunt's notepaper, and purporting to come from her. She had meant so well, and what had she done? When no answer came byreturn to his poem hidden in the wallflowers, he had refused to believethat the bouquet had reached its destination. "There has beentreachery, " he cried; "you have played me false. " And he seemed to foldup with affliction. 

"I gave it to her all right. She hasn't found the letter yet, " saidLetty, trying to comfort, and astonished by the loudness of his grief. "It's all right--you wait a bit. She liked the flowers awfully, andkissed them. "

"Poor young lover, " she thought romantically, "his heart must not bleedtoo much. Aunt Anna, if she ever does find the letter, will only sendhim a rude answer. I will answer it for her, and gently discourage him. "For if the words that proceeded from Letty's mouth were inelegant, herthoughts, whenever they dwelt on either Mr. Jessup or Herr Klutz, wereinvariably clothed in the tender language of sentiment. 

And she had sat up till very late, composing a poem whose mission wasboth to discourage and console. It cost her infinite pains, but when itwas finished she felt that it had been worth them all. She copied it outin capital letters on Anna's notepaper, folded it up carefully, and tiedit with one of her own hair-ribbons to a little bunch oflilies-of-the-valley she had gathered for the purpose in the forest. 

This was the poem:--

 It is a matter of regret That circumstances won't Allow me to call thee my pet, But as it is they don't. 

 For why? My many years forbid, And likewise thy position. So take advice, and strive amid Thy tears for meek submission. 

 ANNA. 

And this poem was, at that very moment, as she well knew, in HerrKlutz's waistcoat pocket. 

CHAPTER XXII

The ordinary young man, German or otherwise, hungrily emerging fromboyhood into a toothsome world made to be eaten, cures himself of hisappetite by indulging it till he is ill, and then on a firm foundationof his own foolish corpse, or, as the poet puts it, of his dead self, begins to build up the better things of his later years. 

Klutz was an ordinary young man, and arrived at early manhood as hungryas his fellows; but his father was a parson, his grandfather had been aparson, his uncles were all parsons, and Fate, coming cruelly to him inthe gloomy robes of the Lutheran Church, his natural follies had had noopportunity of getting out, developing, and dissolving, but remainedshut up in his heart, where they amused themselves by seethinguninterruptedly, to his great discomfort, while the good parson, inwhose care he was, talked to him of the world to come. 

"The world to come, " thought Klutz, hungering and thirsting for a tasteof the world in which he was, "may or may not be very well in its way;but its way is not my way. " And he listened in a silence that might betaken either for awed or bored to Manske's expatiations. Manske, ofcourse, interpreted it as awed. "Our young vicar, " he said to his wife, "thinks much. He is serious and contemplative beyond his years. He isnot a man of many and vain words. " To which his wife replied only by asniff of scepticism. 

She had no direct proofs that Klutz was not serious and contemplative, but during his first winter in their house he had fallen into her badgraces because of a certain indelicately appreciative attitude hedisplayed towards her apple jelly. Not that she grudged him apple jellyin just quantities; both she and her husband were fond of it, and theeating of it was luckily one of those pleasures whose indulgence isinnocent. But there are limits beyond which even jelly becomes vicious, and these limits Herr Klutz continually overstepped. Every autumn shemade a sufficient number of pots of it to last discreet appetites awhole year. There had always been vicars in their house, and there hadnever been a dearth of jelly. But this year, so early as Easter, therewere only two pots left. She could not conveniently lock it up andrefuse to produce any, for then she and her husband would not have itthemselves; so all through the winter she had watched the pots beingemptied one after the other, and the thinner the rows in her storeroomgrew, the more pronounced became her conviction that Klutz's piety wasbut skin deep. A young man who could behave in so unbridled a fashioncould not be really serious; there was something, she thought, thatsmacked suspiciously of the flesh and the devil about such conduct. Great, then, was her astonishment when, the penultimate pot being placedat Easter on the table, Klutz turned from it with loathing. Nor did heever look at apple jelly again; nor did he, of other viands, eat enoughto keep him in health. He who had been so voracious forgot his meals, and had to be coaxed before he would eat at all. He spent his spare timewriting, sitting up sometimes all night, and consuming candles at thesame head-long rate with which he had previously consumed the jelly; andwhen towards May her husband once more commented on his seriousness, Frau Manske's conscience no longer permitted her to sniff. 

"You must be ill, " she said to him at last, on a day when he had satthrough the meals in silence and had refused to eat at all. 

"Ill!" burst out Klutz, whose body and soul seemed both to be in onefierce blaze of fever, "I am sick--sick even unto death. "

And he did feel sick. Only two days had elapsed since he had receivedAnna's poem and had been thrown by it into a tumult of delight andtriumph; for the discouragement it contained had but encouraged him themore, appearing to be merely the becoming self-depreciation of a womanbefore him who has been by nature appointed lord. He was perfectly readyto overlook the obstacles to their union to which she alluded. She couldnot help her years; there were, truly, more of them than he would havewished, but luckily they were not visible on that still lovely face. Asto position, he supposed she meant that he was not _adelig_; but a man, he reflected, compared to a woman, is always _adelig_, whatever his namemay be, by virtue of his higher and nobler nature. He had been forrushing at once to Kleinwalde; but his pupil and confidant had said"Don't, " and had said it with such energy that for that day at least hehad resisted. And now, the very morning of the day on which the FrauPastor was asking him whether he were ill, he had received a curt notefrom Miss Leech, informing him that Miss Letty Estcourt would for thepresent discontinue her German studies. What had happened? Even thepoem, lying warm on his heart, was not able to dispel his fears. He hadflown at once to Kleinwalde, feeling that it was absurd not to followthe dictates of his heart and cast himself in person at Anna's no doubtexpectant feet, and the door had been shut in his face--rudely shut, bya coarse servant, whose manner had so much enraged him that he hadalmost shown her the precious verses then and there, to convince her ofhis importance in that house; indeed, the only consideration thatrestrained him was a conviction of her ignorance of the English tongue. 

"Would you like to see the doctor?" inquired Frau Manske, startled byhis looks and words; perhaps he had caught something infectious; aninfectious vicar in the house would be horrible. 

"The doctor!" cried Klutz; and forthwith quoted the German rendering ofthe six lines beginning, Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased. 

Frau Manske was seriously alarmed. Not aware that he was quoting, shewas horrified to hear him calling her _Du_, a privilege confined tolovers, husbands, and near relations, and asking her questions that shewas sure no decent vicar would ever ask the respectable mother of afamily. "I am sure you ought to see the doctor, " she said nervously, getting up hastily and going to the door. 

"No, no, " said Klutz; "the doctor does not exist who can help me. "

His hand went to the breast-pocket containing the poem, and he fingeredit feverishly. He longed to show it to Frau Manske, to translate it forher, to let her see what the young Kleinwalde lady, joint patron withHerr von Lohm of her husband's living, thought of him. 

"I will ask my husband about the doctor, " persisted Frau Manske, disappearing with unusual haste. If she had stayed one minute longer hewould have shown her the poem. 

Klutz did not wait to hear what the pastor said, but crushed his felthat on to his head and started for a violent walk. He would go throughKleinwalde, past the house; he would haunt the woods; he would waitabout. It was a hot, gusty May afternoon, and the wind that had beenquiet so long was blowing up the dust in clouds; but he hurried alongregardless of heat and wind and dust, with an energy surprising in onewho had eaten nothing all day. Love had come to him very turbulently. Hehad been looking for it ever since he left school; but his watchfulparents had kept him in solitary places, empty, uninhabited places likeLohm, places where the parson's daughters were either married or werestill tied on the cushions of infancy. Sometimes he had been invited, asa great condescension, to the Dellwigs' Sunday parties; and there too hehad looked around for Love. But the company consisted solely of stoutfarmers' wives, ladies of thirty, forty, fifty--of a dizzy antiquity, that is, and their talk was of butter-making and sausages, and theycared not at all for Love. "Oh, Love, Love, Love, where shall I findthee?" he would cry to the stars on his way home through the forestafter these evenings; but the stars twinkled coldly on, obviouslyprofoundly indifferent as to whether he found it or not. His chest ofdrawers was full of the poems into which he had poured the emotions oftwenty, the emotions and longings that well-fed, unoccupied twentymistakes for soul. And then the English Miss had burst upon his gaze, sitting in her carriage on that stormy March day, smiling at him fromthe very first, piercing his heart through and through with eyes thatmany persons besides Klutz saw were lovely, and so had he found Love, and for ever lost his interest in apple jelly. 

It was a confident, bold Love, with more hopes than fears, moreassurance than misgivings. The poem seemed to burn his pocket, soviolently did he long to show it round, to tell everyone of his goodfortune. The lilies-of-the-valley to which it had been tied and that hewore since all day long in his coat, were hardly brown, and yet he wastired already of having such a secret to himself. What advantage wasthere in being told by the lady of Kleinwalde that she regretted notbeing able to call him _Lämmchen_ or _Schätzchen_ (the alternativerenderings his dictionary gave of "pet") if no one knew it?

When he reached the house he walked past it at a snail's pace, staringup at the blank, repellent windows. Not a soul was to be seen. He wenton discontentedly. What should he do? The door had been shut in his faceonce already that day, why he could not imagine. He hesitated, andturned back. He would try again. Why not? The Miss would have scoldedthe servant roundly when she heard that the person who dwelt in herthoughts as a _Lämmchen_ had been turned away. He went boldly round thegrass plot in front of the house and knocked. 

The same servant appeared. Instantly on seeing him she slammed the door, and called out "_Nicht zu Haus!_"

"_Ekelhaftes Benehmen!_" cried Klutz aloud, flaming into sudden passion. His mind, never very strong, had grown weaker along with his body duringthese exciting days of love and fasting. A wave of fury swept over himas he stood before the shut door and heard the servant going away; andhardly knowing what he did, he seized the knocker, and knocked andknocked till the woods rang. 

There was a sound of hurried footsteps on the path behind him, andturning his head, his hand still knocking, he saw Dellwig runningtowards him. 

"_Nanu!_" cried Dellwig breathlessly, staring in blankest astonishment. "What in the devil's name are you making this noise for? Is the parsonon fire?"

Klutz stared back in a dazed sort of way, his fury dying out at once inthe presence of the stronger nature; then, because he was twenty, andbecause he was half-starved, and because he felt he was being cruellyused, there on Anna's doorstep, in the full light of the evening sun, with Dellwig's eyes upon him, he burst into a torrent of tears. 

"Well of all--what's wrong at Lohm, you great sheep?" asked Dellwig, seizing his arm and giving him a shake. 

Klutz signified by a movement of his head that nothing was wrong atLohm. He was crying like a baby, into a red pocket-handkerchief, andcould not speak. 

Dellwig, still gripping his arm, stared at him a moment in silence; thenhe turned him round, pushed him down the steps, and walked him off. "Come along, young man, " he said, "I want some explanation of this. Ifyou are mad you'll be locked up. We don't fancy madmen about our place. And if you're not mad you'll be fined by the Amtsvorsteher fordisorderly conduct. Knocking like that at a lady's door! I wonder youdidn't kick it in, while you were about it. It's a good thing the_Herrschaften_ are out. "

Klutz really felt ill. He leaned on Dellwig's arm and let himself behelped along, the energy gone out of him with the fury. "You have neverloved, " was all he said, wiping his eyes. 

"Oh that's it, is it? It is love that made you want to break theknocker? Why didn't you go round to the back? Which of them is it? Thecook, of course. You look hungry. A Kandidat crying after a cook!" AndDellwig laughed loud and long. 

"The cook!" cried Klutz, galvanised by the word into life. "The cook!"He thrust a shaking hand into his breast-pocket and dragged it out, theprecious paper, unfolding it with trembling fingers, and holding itbefore Dellwig's eyes. "So much for your cooks, " he said, tremulouslytriumphant. They were in the road, out of sight of the house. Dellwigtook the paper and held it close to his eyes. "What's this?" he asked, scrutinising it. "It is not German. "

"It is English, " said Klutz. 

"What, the governess----?"

Klutz merely pointed to the name at the end. Oh, the sweetness of thatmoment!

"Anna?" read out Dellwig, "Anna? That is Miss Estcourt's name. "

"It is, " said Klutz, his tears all dried up. 

"It seems to be poetry, " said Dellwig slowly. 

"It is, " said Klutz. 

"Why have you got it?"

"Why indeed! It's mine. She sent it to me. She wrote it for me. Theseflowers----"

"Miss Estcourt? Sent it to you? Poetry? To _you_?" Dellwig looked upfrom the paper at Klutz, and examined him slowly from head to foot as ifhe had never seen him before. His expression while he did it was notflattering, but Klutz rarely noticed expressions. "What's it all about?"he asked, when he had reached Klutz's boots, by which he seemed struck, for he looked at them twice. 

"Love, " said Klutz proudly. 

"Love?"

"Let me come home with you, " said Klutz eagerly, "I'll translate itthere. I can't here where we might be disturbed. "

"Come on, then, " said Dellwig, walking off at a great pace with thepaper in his hand. 

Just as they were turning into the farmyard the rattle of a carriage washeard coming down the road. "Stop, " said Dellwig, laying his hand onKlutz's arm, "the _Herrschaften_ have been drinking coffee in thewoods--here they are, coming home. You can get a greeting if you wait. "

They both stood on the edge of the road, and the carriage with Anna anda selection from her house-party drove by. Dellwig and Klutz swept offtheir hats. When Anna saw Klutz she turned scarlet--undeniably, unmistakably scarlet--and looked away quickly. Dellwig's lips shapedthemselves into a whistle. "Come in, then, " he said, glancing at Klutz, "come in and translate your poem. "

Seldom had Klutz passed more delicious moments than those in which herendered Letty's verses into German, with both the Dellwigs drinking inhis words. The proud and exclusive Dellwigs! A month ago such a thingwould have been too wild a flight of fancy for the most ambitious dream. In the very room in which he had been thrust aside at parties, forgottenin corners, left behind when the others went in to supper, he was nowsitting the centre of interest, with his former supercilious hostshanging on his words. When he had done, had all too soon come to the endof his delightful task, he looked round at them triumphantly; and histriumph was immediately dashed out of him by Dellwig, who said with hisharshest laugh, "Put aside all your hopes, young man--Miss Estcourt isengaged to Herr von Lohm. "

"Engaged? To Herr von Lohm?" Klutz echoed stupidly, his mouth open andthe hand holding the verses dropping limply to his side. 

"Engaged, engaged, engaged, " Dellwig repeated in a loud sing-song, "notopenly, but all the same engaged. "

"It is truly scandalous!" cried his wife, greatly excited, and firmlybelieving that the verses were indeed Anna's. Was she not herself of therace of _Weiber_, and did she not therefore well know what they werecapable of?

"Silence, Frau!" commanded Dellwig. 

"And she takes my flowers--my daily offerings, floral and poetical, andshe sends me these verses--and all the time she is betrothed to someoneelse?"

"She is, " said Dellwig with another burst of laughter, for Klutz's faceamused him intensely. He got up and slapped him on the shoulder. "Thisis your first experience of _Weiber_, eh? Don't waste your heartachesover her. She is a young lady who likes to have her little joke andmeans no harm----"

"She is a person without shame!" cried his wife. 

"Silence, Frau!" snapped Dellwig. "Look here, young man--why, what doeshe look like, sitting there with all the wind knocked out of him? Gethim a glass of brandy, Frau, or we shall have him crying again. Sit up, and be a man. Miss Estcourt is not for you, and never will be. Only avicar could ever have dreamed she was, and have been imposed upon bythis poetry stuff. But though you're a vicar you're a man, eh? Here, drink this, and tell us if you are not a man. "

Klutz feebly tried to push the glass away, but Dellwig insisted. Klutzwas pale to ghastliness, and his eyes were brimming again with tears. 

"Oh, this person! Oh, this Englishwoman! Oh, the shameful treatment ofan estimable young man!" cried Frau Dellwig, staring at the havoc Annahad wrought. 

"Silence, Frau!" shouted Dellwig, stamping his foot. "You can't betreated like this, " he went on to Klutz, who, used to drinking much milkat the abstemious parsonage, already felt the brandy running along hisveins like liquid fire, "you can't be made ridiculous and do nothing. Avicar can't fight, but you must have some revenge. "

Klutz started. "Revenge! Yes, but what revenge?" he asked. 

"Nothing to do with Miss Estcourt, of course. Leave her alone----"

"Leave her alone?" cried his wife, "what, when she it is----"

"Silence, Frau!" roared Dellwig. "Leave her alone, I say. You won't gainanything there, young man. But go to her _Bräutigam_ Lohm and tell himabout it, and show him the stuff. He'll be interested. "

Dellwig laughed boisterously, and took two or three rapid turns up anddown the room. He had not lived with old Joachim and seen much of oldLohm and the surrounding landowners without having learned something oftheir views on questions of honour. Axel Lohm he knew to be speciallystrict and strait-laced, to possess in quite an unusual degree theideals that Dellwig thought so absurd and so unpractical, the ideals, that is, of a Christian gentleman. Had he not known him since he was achild? And he had always been a prig. How would he like Miss Estcourt tobe talked about, as of course she would be talked about? Klutz's mouthcould not be stopped, and the whole district would know what had beengoing on. Axel Lohm could not and would not marry a young lady who wroteverses to vicars; and if all relations between Lohm and Kleinwaldeceased, why then life would resume its former pleasant course, he, Dellwig, staying on at his post, becoming, as was natural, hismistress's sole adviser, and certainly after due persuasion achievingall he wanted, including the brick-kiln. The plainness and clearness ofthe future was beautiful. He walked up and down the room making oddsounds of satisfaction, and silencing his wife with vigour every timeshe opened her lips. Even his wife, so quick as a rule of comprehension, had not grasped how this poem had changed their situation, and how itbehoved them now not to abuse their mistress before a mischief-makingyoung man. She was blinded, he knew, by her hatred of Miss Estcourt. Women were always the slaves, in defiance of their own interests, tosome emotion or other; if it was not love, then it was hatred. Nevercould they wait for anything whatever. The passing passion must out andbe indulged, however fatal the consequences might be. What a set theywere! And the best of them, what fools. He glanced angrily at his wifeas he passed her, but his glance, travelling from her to Klutz, who satquite still with head sunk on his chest, legs straight out before him, the hand with the paper loosely held in it hanging down out of thecuffless sleeve nearly to the floor, and vacant eyes staring into space, his good humour returned, and he gave another harsh laugh. "Well?" hesaid, standing in front of this dejected figure. "How long will you sitthere? If I were you I'd lose no time. You don't want those two to bemaking love and enjoying themselves an hour longer than is necessary, doyou? With you out in the cold? With you so cruelly deceived? And made tolook so ridiculous? I'd spoil that if I were you, at once. "

"Yes, you are right. I'll go to Herr von Lohm and see if I can have aninterview. "

Klutz got up with a great show of determination, put the paper in hispocket, and buttoned his coat over it for greater security. Then hehesitated. 

"It _is_ a shameful thing, isn't it?" he said, his eyes on Dellwig'sface. 

"Shameful? It's downright cruel. "

"Shameful?" began his wife. 

"Silence, I tell thee! Young ladies' jokes are sometimes cruel, you see. I believe it was a joke, but a very heartless one, and one that has madeyou look more foolish even than half-fledged pastors of your agegenerally do look. It is only fair in return to spoil her game for her. Take another glass of brandy, and go and do it. "

Klutz stared hard for a moment at Dellwig. Then he seized the brandy, gulped it down, snatched up his hat, and taking no farewell notice ofeither husband or wife, hurried out of the room. They saw him passbeneath the window, his hat over his eyes, his face white, his earsaflame. 

"There goes a fool, " said Dellwig, rubbing his hands, "and as useful aone as ever I saw. But here's another fool, " he added, turning sharplyto his wife, "and I don't want them in my own house. "

And he proceeded to tell her, in the vigorous and convincing language ofa justly irritated husband, what he thought of her. 

CHAPTER XXIII

Klutz sped, as fast as his shaking limbs allowed, to Lohm. When hepassed Anna's house he flung it a look of burning contempt, which hehoped she saw and felt from behind some curtain; and then, trying to puther from his mind, he made desperate efforts to arrange his thoughts alittle for the coming interview. He supposed that it must be the brandythat made it so difficult for him to discern exactly why he was to go toHerr von Lohm instead of to the person principally concerned, the personwho had treated him so scandalously; but Herr Dellwig knew best, ofcourse, and judged the matter quite dispassionately. Certainly Herr vonLohm, as an insolently happy rival, ought in mere justice to be annoyeda little; and if the annoyance reached such a pitch of effectiveness asto make him break off the engagement, why then--there was noknowing--perhaps after all----? The ordinary Christian was bound toforgive his erring brother; how much more, then, was it incumbent on apastor to forgive his erring sister? But Klutz did wish that someoneelse could have done the annoying for him, leaving him to deal solelywith Anna, a woman, a member of the sex in whose presence he was alwaysat his ease. The brandy prevented him from feeling it as acutely as hewould otherwise have done, but the plain truth, the truth undisguised bybrandy, was that he looked up to Axel Lohm with a respect bordering onfear, had never in his life been alone with him, or so much as spoken tohim beyond ordinary civilities when they met, and he was frightened. 

By the time he reached Axel's stables, which stood by the roadside aboutfive minutes' walk from Axel's gate, he found himself obliged to go overhis sufferings once again one by one, to count the dinners he hadmissed, to remember the feverish nights and the restless days, torehearse what Dellwig had just told him of his present ridiculousness, or he would have turned back and gone home. But these thoughts gave himthe courage necessary to get him through the gate; and by the time hehad rounded the bend in the avenue escape had become impossible, forAxel was standing on the steps of the house. Axel had a cigar in hismouth; his hands were in his pockets, and he was watching the paces of ayoung mare which was being led up and down. Two pointers were sitting athis feet, and when Klutz appeared they rushed down at him barking. Klutzdid not as a rule object to being barked at by dogs, but he was in ahighly nervous state, and shrank aside involuntarily. The groom leadingthe mare grinned; Axel whistled the dogs off; and Klutz, with hot ears, walked up and took off his hat. 

"What can I do for you, Herr Klutz?" asked Axel, his hands still in hispockets and his eyes on the mare's legs. 

"I wish to speak with you privately, " said Klutz. 

"_Gut. _ Just wait a moment. " And Klutz waited, while Axel, with greatdeliberation, continued his scrutiny of the mare, and followed it up bya lengthy technical discussion of her faults and her merits with thegroom. 

This was intolerable. Klutz had come on business of vital importance, and he was left standing there for what seemed to him at least half anhour, as though he were rather less than a dog or a beggar. As timepassed, and he still was kept waiting, the fury that had possessed himas he stood helpless before Anna's shut door in the afternoon, returned. All his doubts and fears and respect melted away. What a day he had hadof suffering, of every kind of agitation! The ground alone that he hadcovered, going backwards and forwards between Lohm and Kleinwalde, wasenough to tire out a man in health; and he was not in health, he wasill, fasting, shaking in every limb. While he had been suffering(_leidend und schwitzend_, he said to himself, grinding his teeth), thiscomfortable man in the gaiters and the aggressively clean cuffs had nodoubt passed very pleasant and easy hours, had had three meals at leastwhere he had had none, had smoked cigars and examined horses' legs, hadridden a little, driven a little, and would presently go round, now thatthe cool of the evening had come, to Kleinwalde, and sit in the twilightwhile Miss Estcourt called him _Schatz_. Oh, it was not to be borne!Dellwig was right--he must be annoyed, punished, at all costs shaken outof his lofty indifference. "Let me remind you, " Klutz burst out in avoice that trembled with passion, "that I am still here, and stillwaiting, and that I have only two legs. Your horse, I see, has four, andis better able to stand and wait than I am. "

Axel turned and stared at him. "Why, what is the matter?" he asked, astonished. "You _are_ Manske's vicar? Yes, of course you are. I did notknow you had anything very pressing to tell me. I am sorry I have keptyou--come in. "

He sent the mare to the stables, and led the way into his study. "Sitdown, " he said, pushing a chair forward, and sitting down himself by hiswriting-table. "Have a cigar?"

"No. "

"No?" Axel stared again. "'No thank you' is the form prejudice prefers, "he said. 

"I care nothing for that. "

"What is the matter, my dear Herr Klutz? You are very angry aboutsomething. "

"I have been shamefully treated by a woman. "

"It is what sometimes happens to young men, " said Axel, smiling. 

"I do not want cheap wisdom like that, " cried Klutz, his eyes ablaze. 

Axel's brows went up. "You are rude, my good Herr Klutz, " he said. "Tryto be polite if you wish me to help you. If you cannot, I shall ask youto go. "

"I will not go. "

"My dear Herr Klutz. "

"I say I will not go till I have told you what I came to tell you. Thewoman is Miss Estcourt. "

"Miss Estcourt?" repeated Axel, amazed. Then he added, "Call her alady. "

"She is a woman to all intents and purposes----"

"Call her a lady. It sounds better from a young man of your station. "

"Of my station! What, a man with the brains of a man, the mind of a man, the sinews of a man, is not equal, is not superior, whatever his stationmay be, to a mere woman?"

"I will not discuss your internal arrangements. Has there, then, beensome mistake about the salary you are to receive?"

"What salary?"

"For teaching Miss Letty Estcourt?"

"Pah--the salary. Love does not look at salaries. "

"That sounds magnificent. Did you say love?"

"For weeks past, all the time that I have taught the niece, she hastaken my flowers, my messages, at first verbal and at last written----"

"One moment. Of whom are we talking? I have met you with Miss Leech----"

"The governess? _Ich danke. _ It is Miss Estcourt who has encouraged meand led me on, and now, after calling me her _Lämmchen_, takes away herniece and shuts her door in my face----"

"You have been drinking?"

"Certainly not, " cried Klutz, the more indignantly because of hisconsciousness of the brandy. 

"Then you have no excuse at all for talking in this manner of myneighbour?"

"Excuse! To hear you, one would think she must be a queen, " said Klutz, laughing derisively. "If she were, I should still talk as I pleased. Acat may look at a king, I suppose?" And he laughed again, very bitterly, disliking even for one moment to imagine himself in the rôle of the cat. 

"A cat may look as long and as often as it likes, " said Axel, "but itmust not get in the king's way. I am sure you can guess why. "

"I have not come here to guess why about anything. "

"Oh, it is not very abstruse--the cat would be kicked by somebody, ofcourse. "

"Oh, ho! Not if it could bite, and had what I have in its pocket. "

"Cats do not have pockets, my dear Herr Klutz. You must have noticedthat yourself. Pray, what is it that you have in yours?"

"A little poem she sent me in answer to one of mine. A little, sweetpoem. I thought you might like to see how your future wife writes toanother man. "

"Ah--that is why you have called so kindly on me? Out of purethoughtfulness. My future wife, then, is Miss Estcourt?"

"It is an open secret. "

"It is, most unfortunately, not true. "

"_Ach_--I knew you would deny it, " cried Klutz, slapping his leg andgrinning horribly. "I knew you would deny it when you heard she had beenbehaving badly. But denials do not alter anything--no one will believethem----"

Axel shrugged his shoulders. "Am I to see the poem?" he asked. 

Klutz took it out and handed it to him. The twilight had come into theroom, and Axel put the paper down a moment while he lit the candles onhis table. Then he smoothed out its creases, and holding it close to thelight read it attentively. Klutz leaned forward and watched his face. Not a muscle moved. It had been calm before, and it remained calm. Klutzcould hardly keep himself from leaping up and striking that impassiveface, striking some sort of feeling into it. He had played his big card, and Axel was quite unmoved. What could he do, what could he say, to hurthim?

"Shall we burn it?" inquired Axel, looking up from the paper. 

"Burn it? Burn my poem?"

"It is such very great nonsense. It is written by a child. We know whatchild. Only one in this part can write English. "

"Miss Estcourt wrote it, I tell you!" cried Klutz, jumping to his feetand snatching the paper away. 

"Your telling me so does not in the very least convince me. MissEstcourt knows nothing about it. "

"She does--she did----" screamed Klutz, beside himself. "Your MissEstcourt--your _Braut_--you try to brazen it out because you are ashamedof such a _Braut_. It is no use--everyone shall see this, and be toldabout it--the whole province shall ring with it--_I_ will not be thelaughing-stock, but _you_ will be. Not a labourer, not a peasant, butshall hear of it----"

"It strikes me, " said Axel, rising, "that you badly want kicking. I donot like to do it in my house--it hardly seems hospitable. If you willsuggest a convenient place, neutral ground, I shall be pleased to comeand do it. "

He looked at Klutz with an encouraging smile. Then something in theyoung man's twitching face arrested his attention. "Do you know what Ithink?" he said quickly, in a different voice. "It is less a kickingthat you want than a good meal. You really look as though you had hadnothing to eat for a week. The difference a beefsteak would make to yourviews would surprise you. Come, come, " he said, patting him on theshoulder, "I have been taking you too seriously. You are evidently notin your usual state. When did you have food last? What has Frau Pastorbeen about? And your eyelids are so red that I do believe----" Axellooked closer--"I do believe you have been crying. "

"Sir, " began Klutz, struggling hard with a dreadful inclination to cryagain, for self-pity is a very tender and tearful sentiment, "Sir----"

"Let me order that beefsteak, " said Axel kindly. "My cook will have itready in ten minutes. "

"Sir, " said Klutz, with the tremendous dignity that immediately precedestears, "Sir, I am not to be bribed. "

"Well, take a cigar at least, " said Axel, opening his case. "That willnot corrupt you as much as the beefsteak, and will soothe you a littleon your way home. For you must go home and get to bed. You are as nearan illness as any man I ever saw. "

The tears were so near, so terribly near, that, hardly knowing what hedid, and sooner than trust himself to speak, Klutz took a cigar and litit at the match Axel held for him. His hand shook pitifully. 

"Now go home, my dear Klutz, " said Axel very kindly. "Tell Frau Pastorto give you some food, and then get to bed. I wish you would have takenthe beefsteak--here is your hat. If you like, we will talk about thisnonsense later on. Believe me, it is nonsense. You will be the first tosay so next week. "

And he ushered him out to the steps, and watched him go down them, uneasy lest he should stumble and fall, so weak did he seem to be. "Whata hot wind!" he exclaimed. "You will have a dusty walk home. Go slowly. Good-night. "

"Poor devil, " he thought, as Klutz without speaking went down the avenueinto the darkness with unsteady steps, "poor young devil--the highestpossible opinion of himself, and the smallest possible quantity ofbrains; a weak will and strong instincts; much unwholesome study of theOld Testament in Hebrew with Manske; a body twenty years old, and thefinest spring I can remember filling it with all sorts of anti-parsoniclongings. I believe I ought to have taken him home. He looked as thoughhe would faint. "

This last thought disturbed Axel. The image of Klutz fainting into aditch and remaining in it prostrate all night, refused to be set aside;and at last he got his hat and went down the avenue after him. 

But Klutz, who had shuffled along quickly, was nowhere to be seen. Axelopened the avenue gate and looked down the road that led past thestables to the village and parsonage, and then across the fields toKleinwalde; he even went a little way along it, with an uneasy eye onthe ditches, but he did not see Klutz, either upright or prostrate. Well, if he were in a ditch, he said to himself, he would not drown; theditches were all as empty, dry, and burnt-up as four weeks' incessantdrought and heat could make them. He turned back repeating thateminently consolatory proverb, _Unkraut vergeht nicht_, and walkedquickly to his own gate; for it was late, and he had work to do, and hehad wasted more time than he could afford with Klutz. A man on a horsecoming from the opposite direction passed him. It was Dellwig, and eachrecognised the other; but in these days of mutual and profound distrustboth were glad of the excuse the darkness gave for omitting the usualgreetings. Dellwig rode on towards Kleinwalde in silence, and Axelturned in at his gate. 

But the poor young devil, as Axel called him, had not fainted. Hurryingdown the dark avenue, beyond Axel's influence, far from fainting, it wasall Klutz could do not to shout with passion at his own insufferableweakness, his miserable want of self-control in the presence of the manhe now regarded as his enemy. The tears in his eyes had given Lohm anopportunity for pretending he was sorry for him, and for makinginsulting and derisive offers of food. What could equal in humiliationthe treatment to which he had been subjected? First he had been treatedas a dog, and then, far worse, far, far worse and more difficult to bearwith dignity, as a child. A beefsteak? Oh, the shame that seared hissoul as he thought of it! This revolting specimen of the upper class haddeclared, with a hateful smile of indulgent superiority, that all hislove, all his sufferings, all his just indignation, depended solely fortheir existence on whether he did or did not eat a beefsteak. Couldcoarse-mindedness and gross insensibility go further? "Thrice miserablenation!" he cried aloud, shaking his fist at the unconcerned stars, "thrice miserable nation, whose ruling class is composed of men sovile!" And, having removed his cigar in order to make this utterance, heremembered, with a great start, that it was Axel's. 

He was in the road, just passing Axel's stables. The gate to thestableyard stood open, and inside it, heaped against one of thebuildings, was a waggon-load of straw. Instantly Klutz became aware ofwhat he was going to do. A lightning flash of clear purpose illuminedthe disorder of his brain. It was supper time, and no one was about. Heran inside the gate and threw the lighted cigar on to the straw; andbecause there was not an instantaneous blaze fumbled for his matchbox, and lit one match after the other, pushing them in a kind of frenzyunder the loose ends of straw. 

There was a puff of smoke, and then a bright tongue of flame; andimmediately he had achieved his purpose he was terrified, and fled awayfrom the dreadful light, and hid himself, shuddering, in the darkness ofthe country road. 

CHAPTER XXIV

"It's in Stralsund, " cried the princess, hurrying out into theKleinwalde garden when first the alarm was given. 

"It's in Lohm, " cried someone else. 

Anna watched the light in silence, her face paler than ordinary, herhair blown about by the hot wind. The trees in the dark garden swayedand creaked, the air was parching and full of dust, the light glaredbrighter each moment. Surely it was very near? Surely it was nearer thanStralsund? "It's in Lohm, " cried someone with conviction; and Annaturned and began to run. 

"Where are you running to, Aunt Anna?" asked Letty, breathlesslyfollowing her; for since the affair with Klutz she followed her auntabout like a conscience-stricken dog. 

"The fire-engine--there is one at the farm--it must go----"

They took each other's hands and ran in silence. Between the gusts ofwind they could hear the Lohm church-bells ringing; and almostimmediately the single Kleinwalde bell began to toll, to toll with aforlorn, blood-curdling sound altogether different from its unmeaningSunday tinkle. 

In front of her house Frau Dellwig stood, watching the sky. "It isLohm, " she said to Anna as she came up panting. 

"Yes--the fire-engine--is it ordered? Has it gone? No? Then at once--atonce----"

"_Jawohl, jawohl_, " said Frau Dellwig with great calm, the philosophiccalm of him who contemplates calamities other than his own. She saidsomething to one of the maids, who were standing about in pleased andexcited groups laughing and whispering, and the girl shuffled off in herclattering wooden shoes. "My husband is not here, " she explained, "andthe men are at supper. "

"Then they must leave their supper, " cried Anna. "Go, go, you girls, andtell them so--look how terrible it is getting----"

"Yes, it is a big fire. The girl I sent will tell them. They say it isthe _Schloss_. "

"Oh, go yourself and tell the men--see, there is no sign of them--everyminute is priceless----"

"It is always a business with the engine. It has not been required, thank God, for years. Mietze, go and hurry them. "

The girl called Mietze went off at a trot. The others put their headstogether, looked at their young mistress, and whispered. A stable-boycame to the pump and filled his pail. Everyone seemed composed, and yetthere was that bloody sky, and there was that insistent cry for helpfrom the anxious bell. 

Anna could hardly bear it. What was happening down there to her kindfriend?

"It is the _Schloss_, " said the stable-boy in answer to a question fromFrau Dellwig as he passed with his full pail, spilling the water atevery step. 

"_Ach_, I thought so, " she said, glancing at Anna. 

Anna made a passionate movement, and ran down the steps after the girlMietze. Frau Dellwig could not but follow, which she did slowly, at adisapproving distance. 

But Dellwig galloped into the yard at that moment, his horse coveredwith sweat, and his loud and peremptory orders extracted the ancientengine from its shed, got the horses harnessed to it, and after whatAnna thought an eternity it rattled away. When it started, the whole skyto the south was like one dreadful sheet of blood. 

"It is the stables, " he said to Anna. 

"Herr von Lohm's?"

"Yes. They cannot be saved. "

"And the house?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's a windy night, " he said, "and the windis blowing that way. There are pine-trees between. Everything is as dryas cinders. "

"The stables--are they insured?"

But Dellwig was off again, after the engine. 

"What can we do, Letty? What can we _do_?" cried Anna, turning to Lettywhen the sound of the wheels had died away and only the hurried bell washeard above the whistling and banging of the wind. "It's horrible here, listening to that bell tolling, and looking at the sky. If I could throwone single bucketful of water on the fire I should not feel so useless, so utterly, utterly of no use or good for anything. "

Neither of them had ever seen a fire, and horror had seized them both. The night seemed so dark, the world all round so black, except in thatone dreadful spot. Anna knew Axel could not afford to lose money. Fromthings Trudi had said, from things the princess had said, she knew it. There was at Lohm, she felt rather than knew, an abundance of everythingnecessary to ordinary comfortable living, as there generally is in thecountry on farms; but money was scarce, and a series of bad seasons, perhaps even one bad season, or anything out of the way happening, mightmake it very scarce, might make the further proper farming of the placeimpossible. Suppose the stables were not insured, where would the moneycome from to rebuild them? And the horses--she had heard that horseswent mad with fright in a fire, and refused to leave their stables. Andthe house--suppose this cruel wind made the checking of the fireimpossible, and it licked its way across the trees to Axel's house? "Oh, what can we _do_?" she cried to the frightened Letty. 

"Let's go there, " said Letty. 

"Yes!" cried Anna, striking her hands together. "Yes! The carriage--FrauDellwig, order the carriage--order Fritz to bring the carriage out atonce. Tell him to be quick--quick!"

"The gracious Miss will go to Lohm?"

"Yes--call him, send for him--Fritz! Fritz!" She herself began to call. 

"But----"

"Fritz! Fritz! Run, Letty, and see if you can find him. "

"If I may be permitted to advise----"

"Fritz! Fritz! Fritz!"

"Call the _herrschaftliche Kutscher_ Fritz, " Frau Dellwig then commandeda passing boy in a loud and stern voice. "Not only mad, but improper, "was her private comment. "She goes by night to her _Bräutigam_--to herunacknowledged _Bräutigam_. " Even a possible burning _Bräutigam_ didnot, in her opinion, excuse such a step. 

The darkness concealed the anger on her face, and Anna neither noticednor cared for the anger in her voice, but began herself to run in thedirection of the stables, leaving Frau Dellwig to her reflections. 

"Princess Ludwig is looking for you everywhere, Aunt Anna, " said Letty, coming towards her, having found Fritz and succeeded in making himunderstand what she wanted. 

"Where is she? Is the carriage coming?"

"He said five minutes. She was at the house, asking the servants if theyhad seen you. "

"Come along then, we'll go to her. "

"I was afraid I should not find you here, " said the princess as Annacame up the steps of the house into the light of the entry, "and thatyou had run off to Lohm to put the fire out. My dear child, what do youlook like? Come and look at yourself in the glass. "

She led her to the glass that hung above the Dellwig hat-stand. 

"I am just going there, " said Anna, looking at her reflection withoutseeing it. "The carriage is being got ready now. "

"Then I am coming too. What has the wind been doing to your hair? See, Iknew you were running about bare-headed, and have brought you a scarf. Come, let me tie it over all these excited little curls, and turn youinto a sober and circumspect young woman. "

Anna bent her head and let the princess do as she pleased. "Herr Dellwigis afraid the fire will spread to the house, " she said breathlessly. "Our engine has only just gone----"

"I heard it. "

"It is such a lumbering thing, it will be hours getting there----"

"Oh, not hours. Half a one, perhaps. "

"Are they insured?"

"The buildings? They are sure to be. But there is always a loss thatcannot be covered--_ach_, Frau Dellwig, good-evening--you see we havetaken possession of your house. To have no stables and probably nohorses just when the busy time is beginning is terrible. Poor Axel. There--now you are tidy. Wait, let me fasten your cloak and cover upyour pretty dress. Is Letty to come too?"

"Oh--if she likes. Why doesn't the carriage come?"

"It will be much better if Letty goes to bed, " said the princess. 

"Oh!" said Letty. 

"It is long past her bedtime, and she has no hat, and nothing round her. Shall we not ask Frau Dellwig to send a servant with her home?"

"_Aber gewiss_----" began Frau Dellwig. 

But Anna was out again on the steps, was shutting out the flaming skywith one hand while she strained her eyes into the darkness of thecorner where the coach-house was. She could hear Fritz's voice, and thehorses' hoofs on the cobbles, and she could see the light of a lanternjogging up and down as the stable-boy who held it hurried to and fro. "Quick, quick, Fritz, " she cried. 

"_Jawohl, gnädiges Fräulein_, " came back the answer in the old man'scheery, reassuring tones. But it was like a nightmare, standing therewaiting, waiting, the precious minutes slipping by, terrible thingshappening to Axel, and she herself unable to stir a step towards him. 

"Take me with you--let me come too, " pleaded Letty from behind her, slipping her hand into Anna's. 

"Then tie a handkerchief or something round your head, " said Anna, hereyes on the lantern moving about before the coach-house. Then thecarriage lamps flashed out, and in another moment the carriage rattledup. 

It was a ghostly drive. As the tops of the pine-trees swayed aside theycaught glimpses of the red horror of the sky; and when they got out intothe open Anna cried out involuntarily, for it seemed as if the wholeworld were on fire. The spire of Lohm church and the roofs of thecottages stood out clear and sharp in the fierce light. The horses, moreand more frightened the nearer they drew, plunged and reared, and oldFritz could hardly hold them in. On turning the corner by the parsonagethey were not to be induced to advance another yard, but swerved aside, kicking and terrified, and threatening every moment to upset thecarriage into the ditch. 

Anna jumped out and ran on. The princess, slower and more bulky, washelped out by Letty and followed after as quickly as she could. In theroad and in the field opposite the stables the whole population wasgathered, illuminated figures in eager, chattering groups. From the pumpon the green in front of the schoolhouse, a chain of helpers had beenformed, and buckets of water were being passed along from hand to handto the engines; and there was no other water. The engines were workingfarther down the road, keeping the hose turned on to the trees betweenthe stables and the house. There were clumps of pine-trees among them, and these were the trees that would carry the fire across to Axel'shouse. Men in the garden were hacking at them, the blows of their axesindistinguishable in the uproar, but every now and then one of thevictims fell with a crash among its fellows still standing behind it. 

"Oh, poor Axel, poor Axel!" murmured Anna, drawing her scarf across herface as she passed along to protect it from the intolerable heat. Butshe was an unmistakable figure in her blue cloak and white dress, stumbling on to where the engines were; and the groups of onlookersnudged each other and turned to stare after her as she passed. 

"How did it happen?" she asked, suddenly stopping before a knot ofwomen. They were in the act of discussing her, and started and lookedfoolish. 

"No one knows, " said the eldest, when Anna repeated her question. "Theysay it was done on purpose. "

"Done on purpose!" echoed Anna, staring at the speaker. "Why, who wouldset fire to a place on purpose?"

But to this question no reply at all was forthcoming. They fidgeted andlooked at each other, and one of the younger ones tittered and then puther hand before her mouth. 

In the potato field across the road, two storks, whose nest for manysprings had been on one of the roofs now burning, had placed their youngones in safety and were watching over them. The young storks were only afew days old, and had been thrown out of the nest by the parents, andthen dragged away out of danger into the field, the parents mountingguard over their bruised and dislocated offspring, and the whole grouptransformed in the glow into a beautiful, rosy, dazzling white, into afamily of spiritualised, glorified storks, as they huddled ruefullytogether in their place of refuge. Anna saw them without knowing thatshe saw them; there were three little ones, and one was dead. Theprincess and Letty found her standing beside them, watching the roaringfurnace of the stableyard with parted lips and wide-open, horror-stricken eyes. 

"Most of the horses were got out in time, " said the princess, takingAnna's arm, determined that she should not again slip away, "and theysay the buildings are fully insured, and he will be able to have muchbetter ones. "

"But the time lost--they can't be built in a day----"

"The man I spoke to said they were such old buildings and in such a badstate that Axel can congratulate himself that they have been burned. Butof course there will always be the time lost. Have you seen him? Let usgo on a little--we shall be scorched to cinders here. "

Both Axel and Dellwig were superintending the working of the hose. "I donot want my trees destroyed, " he said to Dellwig, with whom in thestress of the moment he had resumed his earlier manner; "they are notinsured. " He had watched the stables go with an impassiveness thatstruck several of the bystanders as odd. Dellwig and many others of thedwellers in that district were used to making a great noise on alloccasions great and small, and they could by no means believe that itwas natural to Axel to remain so calm at such a moment. "It is a greatnuisance, " Axel said more than once; but that also was hardly anadequate expression of feelings. 

"They are well insured, I believe?" said Dellwig. 

"Oh yes. I shall be able to have nice tight buildings in their place. "

"They were certainly rather--rather dilapidated, " said Dellwig, eyeinghim. 

"They were very dilapidated, " said Axel. 

Anna and the princess stood a little way from the engines watching theefforts to check the spread of the fire for some time before Axelnoticed them. Manske, who had been the first to volunteer as a link inthe human chain to the pump, bowed and smiled from his place at them, and was stared at in return by both women, who wondered who the begrimedand friendly individual could be. "It is the pastor, " then said theprincess, smiling back at him; on which Manske's smiles and bowsredoubled, and he spilt half the contents of the bucket passing throughhis hands. 

"So it is, " said Anna. 

"Take care there, No. 3!" roared Dellwig, affecting not to know who No. 3 was, and glad of an opportunity of calling the parson to order. Dellwig was making so much noise flinging orders and reprimands about, that a stranger would certainly have taken him for the frantic owner ofthe burning property. 

"You see the pastor looks anything but alarmed, " said the princess. "IfAxel were losing much by this, Manske would be weeping into his bucketinstead of smiling so kindly at us. "

"So he would, " said Anna, a little reassured by that cheerful and grimycountenance. Her eyes wandered to Axel, so cool and so vigilant, givingthe necessary orders so quietly, losing no precious moments in trying tosave what was past saving, and without any noise or any abuse gettingwhat he wanted done. "It _can't_ be a good thing, a fire like this, " shesaid to herself. "Whatever they say, it _can't_ be a good thing. "

A huge pine-tree was dragged down at that moment, dragged in a directionaway from its fellows, against a beech, whose branches it tore down inits fall, ruining the beech for ever, but smothering a few of its owntwigs that had begun to burn among the fresh young leaves. Anna watchedthe havoc going on among poor Axel's trees in silence. "He _can't_ notcare, " she said to herself. He turned round quickly at that moment, asthough he heard her thinking of him, and looked straight into her eyes. "You here!" he exclaimed, striding across the road to her at once. 

"Yes, we are here, " replied the princess. "We cannot let our neighbourburn without coming to see if we can do anything. But seriously, I hearthat it is a good thing for you. "

"I prefer the less good thing that I had before, just now. But it isgone. I shall not waste time fretting over it. "

He ran back again to stop something that was being done wrong, butreturned immediately to tell them to go into his house and not standthere in the heat. "You look so tired--and anxious, " he said, his eyessearching Anna's face. "Why are you anxious? The fire has frightenedyou? It is all insured, I assure you, and there is only the bother ofhaving to build just now. "

He could not stay, and hurried back to his men. 

"We can go indoors a moment, " said the princess, "and see what is goingon in his house. It will be standing empty and open, and it is notnecessary that he should suffer losses from thieves as well as fromfire. His Mamsell is like all bachelors' Mamsells--losing, I am sure, noopportunity of feathering her nest at his expense. "

Anna thought this a practical way of helping Axel, since the throwing ofwater on the flames was not required of her. She turned to call Letty, and found that no Letty was to be seen. "Why, where is Letty?" sheasked, looking round. 

"I thought she was behind us, " said the princess. 

"So did I, " said Anna anxiously. 

They went back a few steps, looking for her among the bystanders. Theysaw her at last a long way off, her handkerchief still round her headand her long thick hair blowing round her shoulders, rapt incontemplation of the fiery furnace. Then a shout went up from the peoplein the road, and they all ran back into the potato field. Anna and theprincess stood rooted to the spot, clutching each other's hands. Lettylooked round when she heard the shout, and began to run too. The flamingouter wall of the yard swayed and tottered and then fell outwards with aterrific crash and crackling, filling the road with a smoking heap ofrubbish, and sending a shower of sparks on a puff of wind after theflying spectators. 

The princess had certainly not run so fast since her girlhood as she didwith Anna towards the spot in the field where they had last seen Letty. A crowd had gathered round it, they could see, an excited, gesticulatingcrowd. But they found her apparently unhurt, sitting on the ground, surrounded by sympathisers, and with someone's coat over her head. Shelooked up, very pale, but smiling apologetically at her aunt. "It's allgone, " she said, pointing to her head. 

"What is gone?" cried Anna, dropping on her knees beside her. 

"_Ach Gott, die Haare--die herrlichen Haare!_" lamented a woman in thecrowd. The smell of burnt hair explained what had happened. 

Anna seized her in her arms. "You might have been killed--you might havebeen killed, " she panted, rocking her to and fro. "Oh, Letty--who savedyou?"

"Somebody put this beastly thing over my head--it smells of herrings. Sparks got into my hair, and it all frizzled up. Can't I take this off?It's out now--and off too. "

The princess felt all over her head through the coat, patting andpressing it carefully; then she took the coat off, and restored it witheffusive thanks to its sheepish owner. There was a murmur of sympathyfrom the women as Letty emerged, shorn of those flowing curls that wereher only glory. "_Oh Weh, die herrlichen Haare!_" sighed the women toone another, "_Oh Weh, oh Weh!_" But the handkerchief tied so tightlyround her head had saved her from a worse fate; she had been an uglylittle girl before--all that had happened was that she looked now likean ugly little boy. 

"I say, Aunt Anna, don't mind, " said Letty; for her aunt was crying, andkissing her, and tying and untying the handkerchief, and arranging andrearranging it, and stroking and smoothing the singed irregular wisps ofhair that were left as though she loved them. "I'm frightfully sorry--Ididn't know you were so fond of my hair. "

"Come, we'll go to the house, " was all Anna said, stumbling on to herfeet and putting her arm round Letty. And they clung to each other soclose that they could hardly walk. 

"We are going indoors a moment, " called the princess, who was very pale, to Axel as they passed the engines. 

He smiled across at her, and lifted his hat. 

"I never saw anyone quite so composed, " she observed to Anna, trying toturn her attention to other things. "Your man Dellwig, who has nothingto do with it all, is displaying the kind of behaviour the people expecton these occasions. I am sure that Axel has puzzled a great many peopleto-night. "

Anna did not answer. She was thinking only of Letty. What a slenderthread of chance had saved her from death, from a dreadful death, thelittle Letty who was under her care, for whom she was responsible, andwhom she had quite forgotten in her stupid interest in Axel Lohm'saffairs. Woman-like, she felt very angry with Axel. What did it matterto her whether his place burnt to ashes or not? But Letty mattered toher, her own little niece, poor solitary Letty, practically motherless, so ugly, and so full of good intentions. She had scolded her so muchabout Klutz; wretched Klutz, it was entirely his fault that Letty hadbeen so silly, and yet only Letty had had the scoldings. Anna held hercloser. In the light of that narrow escape how trivial, how indifferent, all this folly of love-talk and messages and anger seemed. For a shortspace she touched the realities, she saw life and death in their trueproportion; and even while she was looking at them with clear andstartled vision they were blurred again into indistinctness, they fadedaway and were gone--rubbed out by the inevitable details of the passinghour. 

"I thought as much, " said the princess, as they drew near the house. "All the doors wide open and the place deserted. " And Anna came backwith a start from the reality to the well-known dream of daily life, andimmediately felt as though that other flash had been the dream and onlythis were real. 

The hall was in darkness, but there was light shining through the chinksof a door, and they groped their way towards it. The house was as quietas death. They could hear the distant shouts of the men cutting down thetrees in the garden, and the blows of the axes. The princess pushed openthe door behind which the light was, and they found themselves in Axel'sstudy, where the candles he had lit in order to read Letty's poem werestill guttering and flaring in the draught from the open window. A clockon the writing-table showed that it was past midnight. The room lookedvery untidy and ill-cared for. 

"A man without a wife, " said the princess, gazing round at the litter, composed chiefly of cigar-ashes and old envelopes, "is a truly miserablebeing. What condition can be more wretched than to be at the mercy of aMamsell? I shall go and inquire into the whereabouts of this one. Axelwill want some food when he comes in. "

She took up one of the candles and went out. Letty had sat down at onceon the nearest chair, and was looking very pale. Anna untied thehandkerchief, and tried to arrange what was left of her hair. "I mustcut off these uneven ends, " she said, "but there won't be any scissorshere. "

"I say, " began Letty, staring very hard at her. 

"I believe you were terribly scared, you poor little creature, " saidAnna, struck by her pale face, and passing her hand tenderly over thesinged head. 

"Oh, not much. A bit, of course. But it was soon over. Don't worry. Whatwill mamma say to my head?" And Letty's mouth widened into a grin atthis thought. "I say, " she began again, relapsing into solemnity. 

"Well, what?" smiled Anna, sitting down on the same chair and puttingher arm round her. 

"You don't know the whole of that poetry business. "

"That silly business with Herr Klutz? Oh, was there more of it? Oh, Letty, what did you do more? I am so tired of it, and of him, and ofeverything. Tell me, and then we'll forget it for ever. "

"I'm afraid you won't forget it. I'm afraid I'm a bigger beast than youthink, Aunt Anna, " said Letty, with a conviction that frightened Anna. 

"Oh, Letty, " she said faintly, "what did you do?"

"Why, I--I _will_ get it out--I--he was so miserable, and went on sowhen you didn't answer that poetry--that he sent with the heart, youknow----"

"Oh yes, I know. "

"Well, he was in such a state about it that I--that I made up a poem, just to comfort him, you know, and keep him quiet, and--and pretended itcame from you. " She threw back her head and looked up at her aunt. "There now, it's out, " she said defiantly. 

Anna was silent for a moment. "Was it--was it very affectionate?" sheasked under her breath. Then she slipped down on to the floor, and putboth her arms round Letty. "Don't tell me, " she cried, laying her faceon Letty's knees, "I don't want to know. Suppose you had been dreadfullyhurt just now, burnt, or--or dead, what would it have mattered? Oh, wewill forget all that ridiculous nonsense, and only never, never be sosilly again. Let us be happy together, and finish with Herr Klutz forever--it was all so stupid, and so little worth while. " And she put upher face, and they both began to cry and kiss each other through theirtears. And so it came about that Letty was in the same hour relieved ofthe burden on her conscience, of most of her hair, and was taken onceagain, and with redoubled enthusiasm, into Anna's heart. Logic had neverbeen Anna's strong point. 

CHAPTER XXV

When Axel came in two hours later, bringing Dellwig and Manske and twoor three other helpers, farmers, who had driven across the plain to dowhat they could, he found his house lit up and food and drink set outready in the dining-room. 

Letty and Anna had had time to recover from their tears and vows, sundrysmall blisters on the back of Letty's neck had been treated with cottonwool, and they had emerged from their agitation to a calmer state inwhich the helping of the princess in the middle of the night to makesomebody else's house comfortable was not without its joys. The Mamsell, no more able than the Kleinwalde servants to withstand the authority ofthe princess's name and eye, had collected the maids and worked with awill; and when, all danger of the fire spreading being over, Axel camein dirty and smoky and scorched, prepared to have to hunt himself in thedark house for the refreshment he could not but offer his helpers, hewas agreeably surprised to find the lamp in the hall alight, and to bemet by a wide-awake Mamsell in a clean apron who proposed to provide thegentlemen with hot water. This was very attentive. Axel had never knownher so thoughtful. The gentlemen, however, with one accord refused thehot water; they would drink a glass of wine, perhaps, as Herr von Lohmso kindly suggested, and then go to their homes and beds as quickly aspossible. Manske, by far the grimiest, was also the most decided in hisrefusal; he was a godly man, but he did not love supererogatorywashings, under which heading surely a washing at two o'clock in themorning came. Axel left them in the hall a moment, and went into hisstudy to fetch cigars; and there he found Letty, hiding behind the door. 

"You here, young lady?" he exclaimed surprised, stopping short. 

"Don't let anyone see me, " she whispered. "Princess Ludwig and Aunt Annaare in the dining-room. I ran in here when I heard people with you. Myhair is all burnt off. "

"What, you went too near?"

"Sparks came after me. Don't let them come in----"

"You were not hurt?"

"No. A little--on the back of my neck, but it's hardly anything. "

"I am very glad your hair was burnt off, " said Axel with great severity. 

"So am I, " was the hearty reply. "The tangles at night were somethingawful. "

He stood silent for a moment, the cigar-boxes under his arm, uncertainwhether he ought not to enlighten her as to the reprehensibility of herlate conduct in regard to her aunt and Klutz. Evidently her consciencewas cloudless, and yet she had done more harm than was quite calculable. Axel was fairly certain that Klutz had set fire to the stables. Absolutely certain he could not be, but the first blaze had occurred sonearly at the moment when Klutz must have reached them on his way home, that he had hardly a doubt about it. It was his duty as Amtsvorsteher toinstitute inquiries. If these inquiries ended in the arrest of Klutz, the whole silly story about Anna would come out, for Klutz would be onlytoo eager to explain the reasons that had driven him to the act; andwhat an unspeakable joy for the province, and what a deliciousexcitement for Stralsund! He could only hope that Klutz was not theculprit, he could only hope it fervently with all his heart; for if hewas, the child peeping out at him so cheerfully from behind the door hadmanaged to make an amount of mischief and bring an amount of trouble onAnna that staggered him. Such a little nonsense, and such far-reachingconsequences! He could not speak when he thought of it, and strode pasther indignantly, and left the room without a word. 

"Now what's the row with _him_?" Letty asked herself, her finger in hermouth; for Axel had looked at her as he passed with very grave and angryeyes. 

The men waiting in the hall were slightly disconcerted, on being takeninto the dining-room, to find the Kleinwalde ladies there. None of them, except Manske, liked ladies; and ladies in the small hours of themorning were a special weariness to the flesh. Dellwig, having made histwo deep bows to them, looked meaningly at his friends the otherfarmers; Miss Estcourt's private engagement to Lohm seemed to be placedbeyond a doubt by her presence in his house on this occasion. 

"How delightful of you, " said Axel to her in English. 

"I am glad to hear, " she replied stiffly in German, for she was stillangry with him because of Letty's hair, "I am glad to hear that you willhave no losses from this. "

"Losses!" cried Manske. "On the contrary, it is the best thing thatcould happen--the very best thing. Those stables have long been almostunfit for use, Herr von Lohm, and I can say from my heart that I wasglad to see them go. They were all to pieces even in your father'stime. "

"Yes, they ought to have been rebuilt long ago, but one has not alwaysthe money in one's pocket. Help yourself, my dear pastor. "

"Who is the enemy?" broke in Dellwig's harsh voice. 

"Ah, who indeed?" said Manske, looking sad. "That is the melancholy sideof the affair--that someone, presumably of my parish, should commit sucha crime. "

"He has done me a great service, anyhow, " said Axel, filling theglasses. 

"He has imperilled his immortal soul, " said Manske. 

"Have you such an enemy?" asked Anna, surprised. 

"I did not know it. Most likely it was some poor, half-witted devil, orperhaps--perhaps a child. "

"But I saw the blaze immediately after I passed you, " said Dellwig. "Youwere within a stone's throw of the stables, going home. I had hardlyreached them when the fire broke out. Did you then see no one on theroad?"

"No, I did not, " said Axel shortly. There was an aggressive note inDellwig's voice that made him fear he was going to be very zealous inhelping to bring the delinquent to justice. 

"It was the supper hour, " said Dellwig, musing, "and the men would allbe indoors. Had you been to the stables, _gnädiger Herr_?"

"No, I had not. Take another glass of wine. A cigar? Whoever it was, hehas done me a good turn. "

"Beyond all doubt he has, " said Dellwig, his eyes fixed on Axel with anodd expression. 

"Some of us would have no objection to the same thing happening at ourplaces, " remarked one of the farmers jocosely. 

"No objection whatever, " agreed another with a laugh. 

"If the man could be trusted to display the same discriminationeverywhere, " said the third. 

"Joke not about crime, " said Manske, rebuking them. 

"The discrimination was certainly remarkable, " said Dellwig. 

"That is why I think it must have been done by some person more or lessimbecile, " said Axel; "otherwise one of the good buildings, whosedestruction would really have harmed me, would have been chosen. "

"He must be hunted down, imbecile or not, " said Dellwig. 

"I shall do my duty, " said Axel stiffly. 

"You may rely on my help, " said Dellwig. 

"You are very good, " said Axel. 

Dellwig's voice had something ominous about it that made Anna shiver. What a detestable man he was, always and at all times. His whole mannerto-night struck her as specially offensive. "What will be done to thepoor wretch when he is caught?" she asked Axel. 

"He will be imprisoned, " Dellwig answered promptly. 

She turned her back on him. "Even though he is half-witted?" she said toAxel. "Are you obliged to look for him? Can't you leave him alone? Hehas done you a service, after all. "

"I must look for him, " said Axel; "it is my duty as Amtsvorsteher. "

"And the gracious Miss should consider----" shouted Dellwig from behind. 

"I'll consider nothing, " said Anna, turning to him quickly. 

"--should consider the demands of justice----"

"First the demands of humanity, " said Anna, her back to him. 

"Noble, " murmured Manske. 

"The gracious Miss's sentiments invariably do credit to her heart, " saidDellwig, bowing profoundly. 

"But not to her head, he thinks, " said Anna to Axel in English, faintlysmiling. 

"Don't talk to him, " Axel replied in a low voice; "the man so palpablyhates us both. You must go home. Where is your carriage? Princess, takeher home. "

"_Ach, Herr Dellwig, seien Sie so freundlich_----" began the princessmellifluously; and despatched him in search of Fritz. 

When they reached Kleinwalde, silent, wornout, and only desiring tocreep upstairs and into their beds, they were met by Frau von Treumannand the baroness, who both wore injured and disapproving faces. Lettyslipped up to her room at once, afraid of criticisms of herhairlessness. 

"We have waited for you all night, Anna, " said Frau von Treumann in anaggrieved voice. 

"You oughtn't to have, " said Anna wearily. 

"We could not suppose that you were really looking at the fire all thistime, " said the baroness. 

"And we were anxious, " said Frau von Treumann. "My dear, you should notmake us anxious. "

"You might have left word, or taken us with you, " said the baroness. 

"We are quite as much interested in Herr von Lohm as Letty or PrincessLudwig can be, " said Frau von Treumann. 

"Nobody could tell us here for certain whether you had really gone thereor not. "

"Nor could anybody give us any information as to the extent of thedisaster. "

"We presumed the princess was with you, but even that was not certain. "

"My dear baroness, " murmured the princess, untying her shawl, "only youwould have had a doubt of it. "

"The reflection in the sky faded hours ago, " said Frau vein Treumann. 

"And yet you did not return, " said the baroness. "Where did you goafterwards?"

"Oh, I'll tell you everything to-morrow. Good-night, " said Anna, candlein hand. 

"What! Now that we have waited, and in such anxiety, you will tell usnothing?"

"There really is nothing to tell. And I am so tired--good-night. "

"We have kept the servants up and the kettle boiling in case you shouldwant coffee. "

"That was very kind, but I only want bed. Good-night. "

"We too were weary, but you see we have waited in spite of it. "

"Oh, you shouldn't have. You will be so tired. Good-night. "

She went upstairs, pulling herself up each step by the baluster. The clock on the landing struck half-past three. Was it notNapoleon, she thought, who said something to the point aboutthree-o'clock-in-the-morning courage? Had no one ever said anything tothe point about three-o'clock-in-the-morning love for one'sfellow-creatures? "Good-night, " she said once more, turning her head andnodding wearily to them as they watched her from below with indignantfaces. 

She glanced at the clock, and went into her room dejectedly; for she hadmade a startling discovery: at three o'clock in the morning her feelingtowards the Chosen was one of indifference verging on dislike. 

CHAPTER XXVI

Looking up from her breakfast the morning after the fire to see who itwas riding down the street, Frau Manske beheld Dellwig coming towardsher garden gate. Her husband was in his dressing-gown and slippers, acostume he affected early in the day, and they were taking their coffeethis fine weather at a table in their roomy porch. There was, therefore, no possibility of hiding the dressing-gown, nor yet the fact that hercap was not as fresh as a cap on which the great Dellwig's eyes were torest, should be. She knew that Dellwig was not a star of the firstmagnitude like Herr von Lohm, but he was a very magnificent specimen ofthose of the second order, and she thought him much more imposing thanAxel, whose quiet ways she had never understood. Dellwig snubbed her sosystematically and so brutally that she could not but respect and admirehim: she was one of those women who enjoy kissing the rod. In a greatflutter she hurried to the gate to open it for him, receiving in returnneither thanks nor greeting. "Good-morning, good-morning, " she said, bowing repeatedly. "A fine morning, Herr Dellwig. "

"Where's Klutz?" he asked curtly, neither getting off his horse nortaking off his hat. 

"Oh, the poor young man, Herr Dellwig!" she began with uplifted hands. "He has had a letter from home, and is much upset. His father----"

"Where is he?"

"His father? In bed, and not expected to----"

"Where's Klutz, I say--young Klutz? Herr Manske, just step down here aminute--good-morning. I want to see your vicar. "

"My vicar has had bad news from home, and is gone. "

"Gone?"

"This very morning. Poor fellow, his aged father----"

"I don't care a curse for his aged father. What train?"

"The half-past nine train. He went in the post-cart at seven. "

Dellwig jerked his horse round, and without a word rode away in thedirection of Stralsund. "I'll catch him yet, " he thought, and rode ashard as he could. 

"What can he want with the vicar?" wondered Frau Manske. 

"A rough manner, but I doubt not a good heart, " said her husband, sighing; and he folded his flapping dressing-gown pensively about hislegs. 

Klutz was on the platform waiting for the Berlin train, due in fiveminutes, when Dellwig came up behind and laid a hand on his shoulder. 

"What! Are you going to jump out of your skin?" Dellwig inquired with aburst of laughter. 

Klutz stared at him speechlessly after that first start, waiting forwhat would follow. His face was ghastly. 

"Father so bad, eh?" said Dellwig heartily. "Nerves all gone, what?Well, it's enough to make a boy look pale to have his father on hislast----"

"What do you _want_?" whispered Klutz with pale lips. Several personswho knew Dellwig were on the platform, and were staring. 

"Why, " said Dellwig, sinking his voice a little, "you have heard of thefire--I did not see you helping, by the way? You were with Herr von Lohmlast night--don't look so frightened, man--if I did not know about yourfather I'd think there was something on your mind. I only want to askyou--there is a strange rumour going about----"

"I am going home--_home_, do you hear?" said Klutz wildly. 

"Certainly you are. No one wants to stop you. Who do you think they sayset fire to the stables?"

Klutz looked as though he would faint. 

"They say Lohm did it himself, " said Dellwig in a low voice, his eyesfixed on the young man's face. 

Klutz's ears burnt suddenly bright red. He looked down, looked up, looked over his shoulder in the direction from whence the train wouldcome. Small cold beads of agitation stood out on his narrow forehead. 

"The point is, " said Dellwig, who had not missed a movement of thattwitching face, "that you must have been with Lohm nearly till the timewhen--you went straight to him after leaving us?"

Klutz bowed his head. 

"Then you couldn't have left him long before it broke out. I met himmyself between the stables and his gate five minutes, two minutes, before the fire. He went past without a word, in a great hurry, asthough he hoped I had not recognised him. Now tell me what you knowabout it. Just tell me if you saw anything. It is to both our intereststo cut his claws. "

Klutz pressed his hands together, and looked round again for the train. 

"Do you know what will certainly happen if you try to be generous andshield him? He'll say _you_ did it, and so get rid of you and hush upthe affair with Miss Estcourt. I can see by your face you know who didit. Everyone is saying it is Lohm. "

"But why? Why should he? Why should he burn his own----" stammeredKlutz, in dreadful agitation. 

"Why? Because they were in ruins, and well insured. Because he had nomoney for new ones; and because now the insurance company will give himthe money. The thing is so plain--I am so convinced that he did it----"

They heard the train coming. Klutz stooped down quickly and clutched hisbag. "No, no, " said Dellwig, catching his arm and gripping it tight, "Ishall not let you go till you say what you know. You or Lohm to bepunished--which do you prefer?"

Klutz gave Dellwig a despairing, hunted look. "He--he----" he began, struggling to get the words over his dry lips. 

"He did it? You know it? You saw it?"

"Yes, yes, I saw it--I saw him----"

Klutz burst into a wild fit of sobbing. 

"_Armer Junge_, " cried Dellwig very loud, patting his back very hard. "It is indeed terrible--one's father so ill--on his death-bed--and sucha long journey of suspense before you----"

And sympathising at the top of his voice he looked for an emptycompartment, hustled him into it, pushing him up the high steps andthrowing his bag in after him, and then stood talking loudly of sickfathers till the last moment. "I trust you will find the _Herr Papa_better than you expect, " he shouted after the moving train. "Don't giveway--don't give way. That is our vicar, " he exclaimed to an acquaintancewho was standing near; "an only son, and he has just heard that hisfather is dying. He is overwhelmed, poor devil, with grief. "

To his wife on his arrival home he said, "My dear Theresa, "--a mode ofaddress only used on the rare occasions of supremest satisfaction--"mydear Theresa, you may set your mind at rest about our friend Lohm. TheMiss will never marry him, and he himself will not trouble us muchlonger. " And they had a short conversation in private, and later on atdinner they opened a bottle of champagne, and explaining to the servantthat it was an aunt's birthday, drank the aunt's health over and overagain, and were merrier than they had been for years. 

CHAPTER XXVII

It was an odd and a nearly invariable consequence of Anna's cold morningbath that she made resolutions in great numbers. The morning after thefire there were more of them than ever. In a glow she assured herselfthat she was not going to allow dejection and discouragement to takepossession of her so easily, that she would not, in future, be so muchthe slave of her bodily condition, growing selfish, indifferent, unkind, in proportion as she grew tired. What, she asked, tying her waist-ribbonwith great vigour, was the use of having a soul and its longings afterperfection if it was so absolutely the slave of its encasing body, if itonly received permission from the body to flutter its wings a little inthose rare moments when its master was completely comfortable andcompletely satisfied? She was ashamed of herself for being so easilyaffected by the heat and stress of the days with the Chosen. How was itthat her ideals were crushed out of sight continually by the mere weightof the details of everyday existence? She would keep them more carefullyin view, pursue them with a more unfaltering patience--in a word, shewas going to be wise. Life was such a little thing, she reflected, sovery quickly done; how foolish, then, to forget so constantly thateverything that vexed her and made her sorry was flying past and awayeven while it grieved her, dwindling in the distance with every hour, and never coming back. What she had done and suffered last year, howindifferent, of what infinitely little importance it was, now; and yetshe had been very strenuous about it at the time, inclined to resist andstruggle, taking it over-much to heart, acting as though it were alwaysgoing to be there. Oh, she would be wise in future, enjoying all therewas to enjoy, loving all there was to love, and shutting her eyes to therest. She would not, for instance, expect more from her Chosen thanthey, being as they were, could give. Obviously they could not give hermore than they possessed, either of love, or comprehension, orcharitableness, or anything else that was precious; and it was becauseshe looked for more that she was for ever feeling disappointed. Shewould take them as they were, being happy in what they did give her, andignoring what was less excellent. She herself was irritating, she wassure, and often she saw did produce an irritating effect on the Chosen. Of sundry minor failings, so minor that she was ashamed of havingnoticed them, but which had yet done much towards making the daysdifficult, she tried not to think. Indeed, they could hardly be made thesubject of resolutions at all, they were so very trivial. They includeda habit Frau von Treumann had of shutting every window and door thatstood open, whatever the weather was, and however pointedly the othersgasped for air; the exceedingly odd behaviour, forced upon her noticefour times a day, of Fräulein Kuhräuber at table; and an insatiablecuriosity displayed by the baroness in regard to other people'scorrespondence and servants--every postcard she read, every envelope sheexamined, every telegram, for some always plausible reason, she thoughtit her duty to open: and her interest in the doings of the maids wasunquenchable. "These are little ways, " thought Anna, "that don'tmatter. " And she thought it impatiently, for the little ways persistedin obtruding themselves on her remembrance in the middle of her fineplans of future wisdom. "If we could all get outside our bodies, evenfor one day, and simply go about in our souls, how nice it would be!"she sighed; but meanwhile the souls of the Chosen were still envelopedin aggressive bodies that continued to shut windows, open telegrams, andconvey food into their mouths on knives. 

The one belonging to Frau von Treumann was at that moment engaged inwriting with feverish haste to Karlchen, bidding him lose no time incoming, for mischief was afoot, and Anna was showing an alarminginterest in the affairs of that specious hypocrite Lohm. "Comeunexpectedly, " she wrote; "it will be better to take her by surprise;and above all things come at once. "

She gave the letter herself to the postman, and then, having nothing todo but needlework that need not be done, and feeling out of sorts afterthe long night's watch, and uneasy about Axel Lohm's evident attractionfor Anna, she went into the drawing-room and spent the morningelaborately differing from the baroness. 

They differed often; it could hardly be called quarrelling, but therewas a continual fire kept up between them of remarks that did not makefor peace. Over their needlework they addressed those observations toeach other that were most calculated to annoy. Frau von Treumann wouldboast of her ancestral home at Kadenstein, its magnificence, and thestyle in which, with a superb disregard for expense, her brother kept itup, well knowing that the baroness had had no home more ancestral than aflat in a provincial town; and the baroness would retort by relating, asan instance of the grievous slanderousness of so-called friends, apalpably malicious story she had heard of manure heaps before theancestral door, and of unprevented poultry in the _Schloss_ itself. Once, stirred beyond the bounds of prudence enjoined by Karlchen, Frauvon Treumann had begun to sympathise with the Elmreich family'smisfortune in including a member like Lolli; but had been so muchfrightened by her victim's immediate and dreadful pallor that she hadturned it off, deciding to leave the revelation of her full knowledge ofLolli to Karlchen. 

The only occasions on which they agreed were when together they attackedFräulein Kuhräuber; and more than once already that hapless young womanhad gone away to cry. Anna's thoughts had been filled lately by otherthings, and she had not paid much attention to what was being talkedabout; but yet it seemed to her that Frau von Treumann and the baronesshad discovered a subject on which Fräulein Kuhräuber was abnormallysensitive and secretive, and that again and again when they were tiredof sparring together they returned to this subject, always in amiabletones and with pleasant looks, and always reducing the poor Fräulein toa pitiable state of confusion; which state being reached, and she goneout to hide her misery in her bedroom, they would look at each other andsmile. 

In all that concerned Fräulein Kuhräuber they were in perfect accord, and absolutely pitiless. It troubled Anna, for the Fräulein was the onemember of the trio who was really happy--so long, that is, as the othersleft her alone. Invigorated by her cold tub into a belief in thepossibility of peace-making, she made one more resolution: to establishwithout delay concord between the three. It was so clearly to their ownadvantage to live together in harmony; surely a calm talking-to wouldmake them see that, and desire it. They were not children, neither werethey, presumably, more unreasonable than other people; nor could they, she thought, having suffered so much themselves, be intentionallyunkind. That very day she would make things straight. 

She could not of course dream that the periodical putting to confusionof Fräulein Kuhräuber was the one thing that kept the other two alive. They found life at Kleinwalde terribly dull. There were no neighbours, and they did not like forests. The princess hardly showed herself; Annawas English, besides being more or less of a lunatic--the combination, when you came to think of it, was alarming, --and they soon wearied ofpouring into each other's highly sceptical ears descriptions of thesplendours of their prosperous days. The visits of the parson had atfirst been a welcome change, for they were both religious women wholoved to impress a new listener with the amount of their faith andresignation; but when they knew him a little better, and had said thesame things several times, and found that as soon as they paused hebegan to expatiate on the advantages and joys of their present mode oflife with Miss Estcourt, of which no one had been talking, they werebored, and left off being pleased to see him, and fell back foramusement on their own bickerings, and the probing of FräuleinKuhräuber's tender places. 

About midday Anna, who had been writing German letters all the morninghelped by the princess, letters of inquiry concerning a new teacher forLetty, came round by the path outside the drawing-room window lookingfor the Chosen, and prepared to talk to them of concord. The window wasshut, and she knocked on the pane, trying to see into the shady room. Itwas a broiling day, and she had no hat; therefore she knocked again, andheld her hands above her head, for the sun was intolerable. She wore oneof her last summer's dresses, a lilac muslin that in spite of its ageseemed in Kleinwalde to be quite absurdly pretty. She herself lookedprettier than ever out there in the light, the sun beating down on herburnished hair. 

"Anna wants to come in, " said Frau von Treumann, looking up from herembroidery at the figure in the sun. 

"I suppose she does, " said the baroness tranquilly. 

Neither of them moved. 

Anna knocked again. 

"She will be sunstruck, " observed Frau von Treumann. 

"I think she will, " agreed the baroness. 

Neither of them moved. 

Anna stooped down, and tried to look into the room, but could seenothing. She knocked again; waited a moment; and then went away. 

The two ladies embroidered in silence. 

"Absurd old maid, " Frau von Treumann thought, glancing at the baroness. "As though a married woman of my age and standing could get up and openwindows when she is in the room. "

"Ridiculous old Treumann, " thought the baroness, outwardly engrossed byher work. "What does she think, I wonder? I shall teach her that I am asgood as herself, and am not here to open windows any more than she is. "

"Why, you _are_ here, " said Anna, surprised, coming in at the door. 

"Where have you been all the morning?" inquired Frau von Treumannamiably. "We hardly ever see you, dear Anna. I hope you have come now tosit with us a little while. Come, sit next to me, and let us have a nicechat. "

She made room for her on the sofa. 

"Where is Emilie?" Anna asked; Emilie was Fräulein Kuhräuber, and Annawas the only person in the house who called her so. 

"She came in some time ago, but went away at once. She does not, I fear, feel at ease with us. "

"That is exactly what I want to talk about, " said Anna. 

"Is it? Why, how strange. Last night, while we were waiting for you, thebaroness and I had a serious conversation about Fräulein Kuhräuber, andwe decided to tell you what conclusions we came to on the firstopportunity. "

"Certainly, " said the baroness. 

"It is surprising that Princess Ludwig should not have opened youreyes. "

"It is truly surprising, " said the baroness. 

"But they are open. And they have seen that you are not very--notquite--well, not _very_ kind to poor Emilie. Don't you like her?"

"My dear Anna, we have found it quite impossible to like FräuleinKuhräuber. "

"Or even endure her, " amended the baroness. 

"And yet I never saw a kinder, more absolutely amiable creature, " saidAnna. 

"You are deceived in her, " said Frau von Treumann. 

"We have found out that she is here under false pretences, " said thebaroness. 

"Which, " said Frau von Treumann, unable to forbear glancing at thebaroness, "is a very dreadful thing. "

"Certainly, " agreed the baroness. 

Anna looked from one to the other. "Well?" she said, as they did not goon. Then the thought of her peace-making errand came into her mind, andher certainty that she only needed to talk quietly to these two in orderto convince. "What do you think I came in to say to you?" she said, witha low laugh in which there was no mirth. "I was going to propose thatyou should both begin now to love Emilie. You have made her cry sooften--I have seen her coming out of this room so often with redeyes--that I was sure you must be tired of that now, and would like tobegin to live happily with her, loving her for all that is so good inher, and not minding the rest. "

"My dear Anna, " said Frau von Treumann testily, "it is out of thequestion that ladies of birth and breeding should tolerate her. "

"Certainly it is, " emphatically agreed the baroness. 

"And why? Isn't she a woman like ourselves? Wasn't she poor andmiserable too? And won't she go to heaven by and by, just as we, I hope, shall?"

They thought this profane. 

"We shall all, I trust, meet in heaven, " said Frau von Treumann gently. Then she went on, clearing her throat, "But meanwhile we think it ourduty to ask you if you know what her father was. "

"He was a man of letters, " said Anna, remembering the very words ofFräulein Kuhräuber's reply to her inquiries. 

"Exactly. But of what letters?"

"She tried to give us that same answer, " said the baroness. 

"Of what letters?" repeated Anna, looking puzzled. 

"He carried all the letters he ever had in a bag, " said Frau vonTreumann. 

"In a bag?"

"In a word, dear child, he was a postman, and she has told youuntruths. "

There was a silence. Anna pushed at a neighbouring footstool with thetoe of her shoe. "It is not pretty, " she said after a while, her eyes onthe footstool, "to tell untruths. "

"Certainly it is not, " agreed the baroness. 

"Especially in this case, " said Frau von Treumann. 

"Yes, especially in this case, " said Anna, looking up. 

"We thought you could not know the truth, and felt certain you would beshocked. Now you will understand how impossible it is for ladies offamily to associate with such a person, and we are sure that you willnot ask us to do so, but will send her away. "

"No, " said Anna, in a low voice. 

"No what, dear child?" inquired Frau von Treumann sweetly. 

"I cannot send her away. "

"You cannot send her away?" they cried together. Both let their workdrop into their laps, and both stared blankly at Anna, who looked at thefootstool. 

"Have you made a lifelong contract with her?" asked Frau von Treumann, with great heat, no such contract having been made in her own case. 

"I did not quite say what I mean, " said Anna, looking up again. "I donot mean that I cannot really send her away, for of course I can if Ichoose. Exactly what I mean is that I will not. "

There was a pause. Neither of the ladies had expected such an attitude. 

"This is very serious, " then observed Frau von Treumann helplessly. Shetook up her work again and pulled at the stitches, making knots in thethread. Both she and the baroness had felt so certain that Anna would beproperly incensed when she heard the truth. Her manner without doubtsuggested displeasure, but the displeasure, strangely enough, seemed tobe directed against themselves instead of Fräulein Kuhräuber. What couldthey, with dignity, do next? Frau von Treumann felt angry and perplexed. She remembered Karlchen's advice in regard to ultimatums, and wished shehad remembered it sooner; but who could have imagined the extent ofAnna's folly? Never, she reflected, had she met anyone quite so foolish. 

"It is a case for the police, " burst out the baroness passionately, allthe pride of all the Elmreichs surging up in revolt against a fatethreatening to condemn her to spend the rest of her days with theprogeny of a postman. "Your advertisement specially mentioned good birthas essential, and she is here under false pretences. You have the proofsin her letters. She is within reach of the arm of the law. "

Anna could not help smiling. "Don't denounce her, " she said. "I shouldbe appalled if anything approaching the arm of the law got into myhouse. I'll burn the proofs after dinner. " Then she turned to Frau vonTreumann. "If you think it over, " she said, "I _know_ you will not wishme to be so merciless, so pitiless, as to send Emilie back to miseryonly because her father, who has been dead thirty years, was a postman. "

"But, Anna, you must be reasonable--you must look at the other side. NoTreumann has ever yet been required to associate----"

"But if he was a good man? If he did his work honestly, and said hisprayers, and behaved himself? We have no reason for doubting that he wasa most excellent postman, " she went on, a twinkle in her eye; "punctual, diligent, and altogether praiseworthy. "

"Then you object to nothing?" cried the baroness with extraordinarybitterness. "You draw the line nowhere? All the traditions andprejudices of gentlefolk are supremely indifferent to you?"

"Oh, I object to a great many things. I would have liked it better ifthe postman had really been the literary luminary poor Emilie said hewas--for her sake, and my sake, and your sakes. And I don't likeuntruths, and never shall. But I do like Emilie, and I forgive it all. "

"Then she is to remain here?"

"Yes, as long as she wants to. And do, _do_ try to see how good she is, and how much there is to love in her. You have done her a real service, "Anna added, smiling, "for now she won't have it on her mind any more, and will be able to be really happy. "

The baroness gathered up her work and rose. Frau von Treumann looked ather nervously, and rose too. 

"Then----" began the baroness, pale with outraged pride and propriety. 

"Then really----" began Frau von Treumann more faintly, but feelingbound in this matter to follow her example. After all, they could alwaysallow themselves to be persuaded to change their minds again. 

Anna got up too, and they stood facing each other. Something awful wasgoing to happen, she felt, but what? Were they, she wondered, both goingto give her notice?

The baroness, drawn up to her full height, looked at her, opened herlips to complete her sentence, and shut them again. She was exceedinglyagitated, and held her little thin, claw-like hands tightly together tohide how they were shaking. All she had left in the world was the prideof being an Elmreich and a baroness; and as, with the relentless years, she had grown poorer, plainer, more insignificant, so had this prideincreased and strengthened, until, together with her passionatepropriety and horror of everything in the least doubtful in the way ofreputations, it had come to be the very mainspring of her being. "Then----" she began again, with a great effort; for she remembered howthere had actually been no food sometimes when she was hungry, and nofire when she was cold, and no doctor when she was sick, and how severeweather had seemed to set in invariably at those times when she hadleast money, making her first so much hungrier than usual, andafterwards so much more sick, as though nature itself owed her a grudge. 

"Oh, these ultimatums!" inwardly deplored Frau von Treumann; thebaroness was very absurd, she thought, to take the thing so tragically. 

And at that instant the door was thrown open, and without waiting to beannounced, Karlchen, resplendent in his hussar uniform, and beaming fromear to ear, hastened, clanking, into the room. 

"Karlchen! _Du engelsgute Junge!_" shrieked his mother, in accents ofsupremest relief and joy. 

"I could not stay away longer, " cried Karlchen, returning her embracewith vigour, "I felt impelled to come. I obtained leave after manyprayers. It is for a few hours only. I return to-night. You forgive me?"he added, turning to Anna and bowing over her hand. 

"Yes, " she said, smiling; Karlchen had come this time, she felt, exactlyat the right moment. 

"I wrote this very morning----" began his mother in her excitement; butshe stopped in time, and covered her confusion by once again folding himin her arms. 

Karlchen was so much delighted by this unexpectedly cordial receptionthat he lost his head a little. Anna stood smiling at him as she had notdone once last time. Yes, there were the dimples--oh, sweetvision!--they were, indeed, glorious dimples. He seized her hand asecond time and kissed it. The pretty hand--so delicate and slender. Andthe dress--Karlchen had an eye for dress--how dainty it was! "Your kindwelcome quite overcomes me, " he said enthusiastically; and he looked sogay, and so intensely satisfied with himself and the whole world, thatAnna laughed again. Besides, the uniform was really surprisinglybecoming; his civilian clothes on his first visit had been melancholyexamples of what a military tailor cannot do. 

"Ah, baroness, " said Karlchen, catching sight of the small, silentfigure. He brought his heels together, bowed, and crossing over to hershook hands. "I have come laden with greetings for you, " he said. 

"Greetings?" repeated the baroness, surprised. Then an odd look of fearcame into her eyes. 

He had not meant to do it then; he had not been certain whether he woulddo it this time at all; but he was feeling so exhilarated, so buoyant, that he could not resist. "I was at the Wintergarten last night, " hesaid, "and had a talk with your sister, Baroness Lolli. She dancesbetter than ever. She sends you her love, and says she is coming down tosee you. "

The baroness made a queer little sound, shut her eyes, spread out herhands, and dropped on to the carpet as though she had been shot. 

CHAPTER XXVIII

"Is Herr von Treumann gone?"

It was late the same afternoon, and Princess Ludwig had come into thebedroom where the Stralsund doctor was still vainly endeavouring tobring the baroness back to life, to ask Anna whether she would see AxelLohm, who was waiting downstairs and hoped to be allowed to speak toher. "But is Herr von Treumann gone?" inquired Anna; and would not movetill she was sure of that. 

"Yes, and his mother has gone with him to the station. "

Anna had not left the baroness's side since the catastrophe. She couldnot see the unconscious face on the pillow for tears. Was there eversuch barbarous, such gratuitous cruelty as young Treumann's? His motherhad been in once or twice on tiptoe, the last time to tell Anna that hewas leaving, and would she not come down so that he might explain howsorry he was for having unwittingly done so much mischief? But Anna hadmerely shaken her head and turned again to the piteous little figure onthe bed. Never again, she told herself, would she see or speak toKarlchen. 

The movement with which she turned away was expressive; and Frau vonTreumann went out and heaped bitter reproaches on Karlchen, driving withhim to Stralsund in order to have ample time to heap all that were inher mind, and doing it the more thoroughly that he was in a crushedcondition and altogether incapable of defending himself. For what had hereally cared about the baroness's relationship to Lolli? He had thoughtit a huge joke, and had looked forward with enjoyment to seeing Annapromptly order her out of the house. How could he, thick of skin andslow of brain, have foreseen such a crisis? He was very much in lovewith Anna, and shivered when he thought of the look she had given him asshe followed the people who were carrying the baroness out of the room. Certainly he was exceedingly wretched, and his mother could not reproachhim more bitterly than he reproached himself. While she was vehementlypointing out the obvious, he meditated sadly on the length of thejourney he had taken for worse than nothing. All the morning he had beenroasted in trains, and he was about to be roasted again for a drearysuccession of hours. His hot uniform, put on solely for Anna'sbedazzlement, added enormously to his torments; and the distance betweenRislar and Stralsund was great, and the journey proportionatelyexpensive--much too expensive, if all you got for it was oneintoxicating glimpse of dimples, followed by a flashing look of wraththat made you feel cold with the thermometer at ninety. He had not feltso dejected since the eighties, he reflected, in which dark ages he hadbeen forced to fight a duel. Karlchen had a prejudice against duelling;he thought it foolish. But, being an officer--he was at that time aconspicuously gay lieutenant--whatever he might think about it, ifanyone wanted to fight him fight he must, or drop into the awful ranksof Unknowables. He had made a joke of a personal nature, and the otherman turned out to have no sense of humour, and took it seriously, andexpressed a desire for Karlchen's blood. Driving with his justlyincensed mother through the dust and heat to the station, he rememberedthe dismal night he had passed before the duel, and thought how much hisdejection then had resembled in its profundity his dejection now; for hehad been afraid he was going to be hurt, and whatever people may sayabout courage nobody really likes being hurt. Well, perhaps after all, this business with Anna would turn out all right, just as that businesshad turned out all right; for he had killed his man, and, instead ofwounds, had been covered with glory. Thus Karlchen endeavoured to snatchcomfort as he drove, but yet his heart was very heavy. 

"I hope, " said his mother bitingly when he was in the train, patientlywaiting to be taken beyond the sound of her voice, "I do hope that youare ashamed of yourself. It is a bitter feeling, I can tell you, thefeeling that one is the mother of a fool. "

To which Karlchen, still dazed, replied by unhooking his collar, wipinghis face, and appealing with a heart-rending plaintiveness to a passingbeer-boy to give him, _um Gottes Willen_, beer. 

Axel was in the drawing-room, where the remains of Karlchen'svaledictory coffee and cakes were littered on a table, when Anna camedown. "I am so sorry for you, " he said. "Princess Ludwig has beentelling me what has happened. "

"Don't be sorry for me. Nothing is the matter with me. Be sorry for thatmost unfortunate little soul upstairs. "

Axel kissed Anna's right hand, which was, she knew, the custom; andimmediately proceeded to kiss her other hand, which was not the customat all. She was looking woebegone, with red eyelids and white cheeks;but a faint colour came into her face at this, for he did it with suchunmistakable devotion that for the first time she wondered uneasilywhether their pleasant friendship were not about to come to an end. 

"Don't be too kind, " she said, drawing her hands away and trying tosmile. "I--I feel so stupid to-day, and want to cry dreadfully. "

"Well then, I should do it, and get it over. "

"I did do it, but I haven't got it over. "

"Well, don't think of it. How is the baroness?"

"Just the same. The doctor thinks it serious. And she has noconstitution. She has not had enough of anything for years--not enoughfood, or clothes, or--or anything. "

She went quickly across to the coffee table to hide how much she wantedto cry. "Have some coffee, " she said with her back to him, moving thecups aimlessly about. 

"Don't forget, " said Axel, "that the poor lady's past misery is over nowand done with. Think what luck has come in her way at last. When shegets over this, here she is, safe with you, surrounded by love and careand tenderness--blessings not given to all of us. "

"But she doesn't like love and care and tenderness. At least, if itcomes from me. She dislikes me. "

Axel could not exclaim in surprise, for he was not surprised. Thebaroness had appeared to him to be so hopelessly sour; and how, hethought, shall the hopelessly sour love the preternaturally sweet? Helooked therefore at Anna arranging the cups with restless, nervousfingers, and waited for more. 

"Why do you say that?" she asked, still with her back to him. 

"Say what?"

"That when she gets over this she will have all those nice thingssurrounding her. You told me when first she came, that if she reallywere the poor dancing woman's sister I ought on no account to keep herhere. Don't you remember?"

"Quite well. But am I not right in supposing that you _will_ keep her?You see, I know you better now than I did then. "

"If she liked being here--if it made her happy--I would keep her indefiance of the whole world. "

"But as it is----?"

She came to him with a cup of cold coffee in her hands. He took it, andstirred it mechanically. 

"As it is, " she said, "she is very ill, and has to get well again beforewe begin to decide things. Perhaps, " she added, looking up at himwistfully, "this illness will change her?"

He shook his head. "I am afraid it won't, " he said. "For a little while, perhaps--for a few weeks at first while she still remembers yournursing, and then--why, the old self over again. "

He put the untasted coffee down on the nearest table. "There is nogetting away, " he said, coming back to her, "from one's old self. Thatis why this work you have undertaken is so hopeless. "

"Hopeless?" she exclaimed in a startled voice. He was saying aloud whatshe had more than once almost--never quite--whispered in her heart ofhearts. 

"You ought to have begun with the baroness thirty years ago, to have hada chance of success. "

"Why, she was five years old then, and I am sure quite cheerful. And Iwasn't there at all. "

"Five ought really to be the average age of the Chosen. What is the useof picking out unhappy persons well on in life, and thinking you aregoing to make them happy? How can you _make_ them be happy? If it hadbeen possible to their natures they would have been so long ago, howeverpoor they were. And they would not have been so poor or so unhappy ifthey had been willing to work. Work is such an admirable tonic. Theprincess works, and finds life very tolerable. You will never succeedwith people like Frau von Treumann and the baroness. They belong to aclass of persons that will grumble even in heaven. You could easily makethose who are happy already still happier, for it is in them--thegratitude and appreciation for life and its blessings; but those ofcourse are not the people you want to get at. You think I am preaching?"he asked abruptly. 

"But are you not?"

"It is because I cannot stand by and watch you bruising yourself. "

"Oh, " said Anna, "you are a man, and can fight your way well enoughthrough life. You are quite comfortable and prosperous. How can yousympathise with women like Else? Because she is not young you haven't afeeling for her--only indifference. You talk of my bruising myself--youdon't mind her bruises. And if I were forty, how sure I am that youwouldn't mind mine. "

"Yes, I would, " said Axel, with such conviction that she added quickly, "Well--I don't want to talk about bruises. "

"I hope the baroness will soon get over the cruel ones that singularlybrutal young man has inflicted. You agree with me that he _is_ asingularly brutal young man?"

"Absolutely. "

"And I hope that when she is well again you will make her as happy asshe is capable of being. "

"If I knew how!"

"Why, by letting her go away, and giving her enough to live on decentlyby herself. It would be quite the best course to take, both for you andfor her. "

Anna looked down. "I have been thinking the same thing, " she said in alow voice; she felt as though she were hauling down her flag. 

"Perhaps you will let me help. "

"Help?"

"Let me contribute. Why may I not be charitable too? If we join togetherit will be to her advantage. She need not know. And you are not amillionaire. "

"Nor are you, " said Anna, smiling up at him. 

"We unfortunates who live by our potatoes are never millionaires. Butstill we can be charitable. "

"But why should _you_ help the baroness? I found her out, and broughther here, and I am the only person responsible for her. "

"It will be much more costly than just having her here. "

"I don't mind, if only she is happy. And I will not have you pay thecost of my experiments in philanthropy. "

"Is Frau von Treumann happy?" he asked abruptly. 

"No, " said Anna, with a faint smile. 

"Is Fräulein Kuhräuber happy?"

"No. "

"Tell me one thing more, " he said; "are _you_ happy?"

Anna blushed. "That is a queer question, " she said. "Why should I not behappy?"

"But are you?"

She looked at him, hesitating. Then she said, in a very small voice, "No. "

Axel took two or three turns up and down the room. "I knew it, " he said;and added something in German under his breath about _Weiber_. "Afterthis, you will not, I suppose, receive young Treumann again?" he asked, coming to a halt in front of her. 

"Never again. "

"You have a difficult time before you, then, with his mother. "

Anna blushed. "I am afraid I have, " she admitted. 

"You have a very difficult few weeks before you, " he said. "The baronessprobably dangerously ill, and Frau von Treumann very angry with you. Iknow Princess Ludwig does all she can, but still you are alone--againstodds. "

The odds, too, were greater than she knew. All day he had beenofficially engaged in making inquiries into the origin of the fire thenight before, and every circumstance pointed to Klutz as the culprit. Hehad sent for Klutz, and Klutz, they said, had gone home. Then he sent atelegram after him, and his father replied that he was neither expectinghis son nor was he ill. Klutz, then, had disappeared in order to avoidthe consequences of what he had done; but it was only a question of daysbefore the police brought him back again, and then he would tell thewhole absurd story, and Pomerania would chuckle at Anna's expense. Thethought of this chuckling made Axel cold with rage. 

He stood looking out of the window at the parched garden, the droopinglilac-bushes, the hazy island across the water. The wind had dropped, and a gray film had drawn across the sky. At the bottom of the garden, under a chestnut-tree, Miss Leech was sewing, while Letty read aloud toher. The monotonous drone of Letty's reading, interrupted by her loudcomplaints each time a mosquito stung her, reached Axel's ears as hestood there in silence. A grim struggle was going on within him. Heloved Anna with a passion that would no longer be hidden; and he knewthat he must somehow hide it. He was so certain that she did not careabout him. He was so certain that she would never dream of marrying him. And yet if ever a woman needed the protection of an all-enfolding loveit was Anna at that moment "That child down there has made a pretty fairamount of mischief for a person of her age, " he burst out with avehemence that startled Anna. 

"What child?" she said, coming up behind him and looking over hisshoulder. 

He turned round quickly. The feeling that she was so close to him toreaway the last shred of his self-control. "You know that I love you, " hesaid, his voice shaking with passion. 

Her face in an instant was colourless. She stood quite still, almosttouching him, as though she did not dare move. Her eyes were fixed onhis with a frightened, fascinated look. 

"You know it. You have known it a long time. Now what are you going tosay to me?"

She looked at him without speaking or moving. 

"Anna, what are you going to say to me?" he cried; and he caught up herhands and kissed them one after the other, hardly knowing what he did, beside himself with love of her. 

She watched him helplessly. She felt faint and sick. She had had amiserable day, and was completely overwhelmed by this last misfortune. Her good friend Axel was gone, gone for ever. The pleasant friendshipwas done. In place of the friend she so much needed, of the friendshipshe had found so comforting, there was--this. 

"Won't you--won't you let my hands go?" she said faintly. She did notknow him again. Was it possible that this agony of love was for her? Sheknew herself so well, she knew so well what it was for which he wasevidently going to break his heart. How wonderful, how pitiful beyondexpression, that a good man like Axel should suffer anything because ofher. And even in the midst of her fright and misery the thought wouldnot be put from her that if she had happened to look like the baronessor Fräulein Kuhräuber, while inwardly remaining exactly as she was, hewould not have broken his heart for her. "Oh, let me go----" shewhispered; and turned her head aside, and shut her eyes, unable to lookany longer at the love and despair in his. 

"But what are you going to say to me?"

"Oh, you know--you know----"

"But you are so sorry always for people who suffer----"

"Oh, stop--oh, stop!"

"No, I won't stop; here have I been condemned to look on at youlavishing love on people who don't want it, don't like it, are weariedby it--who don't know how precious it is, how priceless it is, and how Iam hungering and thirsting--oh, starving, starving, for one drop ofit----" His voice shook, and he fell once more to covering her handswith kisses that seemed to scorch her soul. 

This was very dreadful. Her soul had never been scorched before. Something must be done to stop him. She could not stand there with hereyes shut and her hands being kissed for ever. "_Please_ let me go, " sheentreated faintly; and in her helplessness began to cry. 

He instantly released her, and she stood before him crying. What ahorrible thing it was to lose her friend, to be forced to hurt him. "Inever dreamt that you--that you----" she wept. 

"What, that I loved you?" he asked incredulously; but more gently, subdued by her deep distress. His face grew very hopeless. She wascrying because she was sorry for him. 

"I don't know--I think I did dream that--lately--once or twice--but Inever dreamt that it was so bad--that you were such a--such a--such avolcano. Oh, Axel, why are you a volcano?" she cried, looking up at him, the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Why have you spoilt everything? Itwas so nice before. We were such friends. And now--how can I be friendswith a volcano?"

"Anna, if you make fun of me----"

"Oh no, no--as though I would--as though I could do anything sounutterable. But don't let us be tragic. Oh, don't let us be tragic. Youknow my plans--you know my plans inside out, from beginning to end--howcan I, how _can_ I marry anybody?"

"Good God, those women--those women who are not happy, who have spoiltyour happiness, they are to spoil mine now--ours, Anna?" He seized herarm as though he would wake her at all costs from a fatal sleep. "Do youmean to say that if it were not for those women you would be my wife?"

"Oh, if only you wouldn't be tragic----"

"Do you mean to say that is the reason?"

"Oh, isn't it sufficient----"

"No. If you cared for me it would be no reason at all. "

She cried bitterly. "But I don't, " she sobbed. "Not like that--not inthat way. It is atrocious of me not to--I know how good you are, howkind, how--how everything. And still I don't. I don't know why I don't, but I don't. Oh, Axel, I am so sorry--don't look so wretched--I can'tbear it. "

"But what can it matter to you how I look if you don't care about me?"

"Oh, oh, " sobbed Anna, wringing her hands. 

He caught hold of her wrist. "See here, Anna. Look at me. "

But she would not look at him. 

"Look at me. I don't believe you know your own mind. I want to see intoyour eyes. They were always honest--look at me. "

But she would not look at him. 

"Surely you will do that--only that--for me. "

"There isn't anything to see, " she wept, "there really isn't. It isdreadful of me, but I can't help it. "

"Well, but look at me. "

"Oh, Axel, what _is_ the use of looking at you?" she cried in despair;and pulled her handkerchief away and did it. 

He searched her face for a moment in silence, as though he thought thatif only he could read her soul he might understand it better than shedid herself. Those dear eyes--they were full of pity, full of distress;but search as he might he could find nothing else. 

He turned away without a word. 

"Don't, don't be tragic, " she begged, anxiously following him a fewsteps. "If only you are not tragic we shall still be able to befriends----"

But he did not look round. 

A servant with a tray was outside coming in to take the coffee away. "Oh, " exclaimed Anna, seeing that it was impossible to hide hertear-stained face from the girl's calm scrutiny, "oh, Johanna, the poorbaroness--she is so ill--it is so dreadful----" And she dropped into achair and hid herself in the cushions, weeping hysterically with anabandonment of woe that betokened a quite extraordinary affection forthe baroness. 

"_Gott, die arme Baronesse_, " sympathised Johanna perfunctorily. Toherself she remarked, "This very moment has the Miss refused to marry_gnädiger Herr_. "

CHAPTER XXIX

What Anna most longed for in the days that followed was a mother. "If Ihad a mother, " she thought, not once, but again and again, and her eyeshad a wistful, starved look when she thought it, "if I only had amother, a sweet mother all to myself, of my very own, I'd put my head onher dear shoulder and cry myself happy again. First I'd tell hereverything, and she wouldn't mind however silly it was, and she wouldn'tbe tired however long it was, and she'd say 'Little darling child, youare only a baby after all, ' and would scold me a little, and kiss me agreat deal, and then I'd listen so comfortably, all the time with myface against her nice soft dress, and I would feel so safe and sure andwrapped round while she told me what to do next. It is lonely and coldand difficult without a mother. "

The house was in confusion. The baroness had come out of herunconsciousness to delirium, and the doctors, knowing that she was notrelated to anyone there, talked openly of death. There were two doctors, now, and two nurses; and Anna insisted on nursing too, wearing herselfout with all the more passion because she felt that it was of so littleimportance really to anyone whether the baroness lived or died. 

They were all strangers, the people watching this frail fighter forlife, and they watched with the indifference natural to strangers. Herewas a middle-aged person who would probably die; if she died no one lostanything, and if she lived it did not matter either. The doctors andnurses, accustomed to these things, could not be expected to beinterested in so profoundly uninteresting a case; Frau von Treumannobserved once at least every day that it was _schrecklich_, and went onwith her embroidery; Fräulein Kuhräuber cried a little when, on her wayto her bedroom, she heard the baroness raving, but she cried easily, andthe raving frightened her; the princess felt that death in this casewould be a blessing; and Letty and Miss Leech avoided the house, andspent the burning days rambling in woods that teemed with prodigal, joyous life. 

As for Anna, to see her in the sick-room was to suppose her the nearestand tenderest relative of the baroness; and yet the passion thatpossessed her was not love, but only an endless, unfathomable pity. "Ifshe gets well, she shall never be unhappy again, " vowed Anna in thosedays when she thought she could hear Death's footsteps on the stairs. "Here or somewhere else--anywhere she likes--she shall live and behappy. She will see that her poor sister has made no difference, exceptthat there will be no shadow between us now. "

But what is the use of vowing? When June was in its second week thebaroness slowly and hesitatingly turned the corner of her illness; andimmediately the corner was turned and the exhaustion of turning it gotover, she became fractious. "You will have a difficult time, " Axel hadsaid on the day he spoilt their friendship; and it was true. Thedifficult time began after that corner was turned, and the farther thebaroness drew away from it, the nearer she got to completeconvalescence, the more difficult did life for Anna become. For itresumed the old course, and they all resumed their old selves, the sameold selves, even to the shadow of an unmentioned Lolli between them, that Axel had said they would by no means get away from; but with thisdifference, that the peculiarities of both Frau von Treumann and thebaroness were more pronounced than before, and that not one of the triowould speak to either of the other two. 

Frau von Treumann was still firmly fixed in the house, without the leastintention apparently of leaving it, and she spent her time lying in waitfor Anna, watching for an opportunity of beginning again about Karlchen. Anna had avoided the inevitable day when she would be caught, but itcame at last, and she was caught in the garden, whither she had retiredto consider how best to approach the baroness, hitherto quiteunapproachable, on the burning question of Lolli. 

Frau von Treumann appeared suddenly, coming softly across the grass, sothat there was no time to run away. "Anna, " she called outreproachfully, seeing Anna make a movement as though she wanted to run, which was exactly what she did want to do, "Anna, have I the plague?"

"I hope not, " said Anna. 

"You treat me as if I had it. "

Anna said nothing. "Why does she stay here? How can she stay here, afterwhat has happened?" she had wondered often. Perhaps she had come now toannounce her departure. She prepared herself therefore to listen with awilling ear. 

She was sitting in the shade of a copper beech facing the oily sea andthe coast of Rügen quivering opposite in the heat-haze. She was notdoing anything; she never did seem to do anything, as these ladies ofthe busy fingers often noticed. 

"Blue and white, " said Anna, looking up at the gulls and the sky to giveFrau von Treumann time, "the Pomeranian colours. I see now where theycome from. "

But Frau von Treumann had not come out to talk about the Pomeraniancolours. "My Karlchen has been ill, " she said, her eyes on Anna's face. 

Anna watched the gulls overhead in the deep blue. "So has Else, " sheremarked. 

"Dear me, " thought Frau von Treumann, "what rancour. "

She laid her hand on Anna's knee, and it was taken no notice of. "Youcannot forgive him?" she said gently. "You cannot pardon a momentaryindiscretion?"

"I have nothing to forgive, " said Anna, watching the gulls; one droppeddown suddenly, and rose again with a fish in its beak, the sun for aninstant catching the silver of the scales. "It is no affair of mine. Itis for Else to forgive him. "

Frau von Treumann began to weep; this way of looking at it was sohopelessly unreasonable. She pulled out her handkerchief. "What a heapshe must use, " thought Anna; never had she met people who cried so muchand so easily as the Chosen; she was quite used now to red eyes; one orother of her sisters had them almost daily, for the farther their oldbodily discomforts and real anxieties lay behind them the more tenderand easily lacerated did their feelings become. 

"He could not bear to see you being imposed upon, " said Frau vonTreumann. "As soon as he knew about this terrible sister he felt he musthasten down to save you. 'Mother, ' he said to me when first he suspectedit, 'if it is true, she must not be contaminated. '"

"Who mustn't?"

"Oh, Anna, you know he thinks only of you!"

"Well, you see, " said Anna, "I don't mind being contaminated. "

"Oh, dear child, a young pretty girl ought to mind very much. "

"Well, I don't. But what about yourself? Are you not afraid of--ofcontamination?" She was frightened by her own daring when she had saidit, and would not have looked at Frau von Treumann for worlds. 

"No, dear child, " replied that lady in tones of tearful sweetness, "I amtoo old to suffer in any way from associating with queer people. "

"But I thought a Treumann----" murmured Anna, more and more frightenedat herself, but impelled to go on. 

"Dear Anna, a Treumann has never yet flinched before duty. "

Anna was silenced. After that she could only continue to watch thegulls. 

"You are going to keep the baroness?"

"If she cares to stay, yes. "

"I thought you would. It is for you to decide who you will have in yourhouse. But what would you do if this--this Lolli came down to see hersister?"

"I really cannot tell. "

"Well, be sure of one thing, " burst out Frau von Treumannenthusiastically, "I will not forsake you, dear Anna. Your position nowis exceedingly delicate, and I will not forsake you. "

So she was not going. Anna got up with a faint sigh. "It is frightfullyhot here, " she said; "I think I will go to Else. "

"Ah--and I wanted to tell you about my poor Karlchen--and you avoidme--you do not want to hear. If I am in the house, the house is too hot. If I come into the garden, the garden is too hot. You no longer likebeing with me. "

Anna did not contradict her. She was wondering painfully what she oughtto do. Ought she meekly to allow Frau von Treumann to stay on atKleinwalde, to the exclusion, perhaps, of someone really deserving? Orought she to brace herself to the terrible task of asking her to go? Shethought, "I will ask Axel"--and then remembered that there was no Axelto ask. He never came near her. He had dropped out of her life ascompletely as though he had left Lohm. Since that unhappy day, she hadneither seen him nor heard of him. Many times did she say to herself, "Iwill ask Axel, " and always the remembrance that she could not came witha shock of loneliness; and then she would drop into the train of thoughtthat ended with "if I had a mother, " and her eyes growing wistful. 

"Perhaps it is the hot weather, " she said suddenly, an evening or twolater, after a long silence, to the princess. They had been speaking ofservants before that. 

"You think it is the hot weather that makes Johanna break the cups?"

"That makes me think so much of mothers. "

The princess turned her head quickly, and examined Anna's face. It wasSunday evening, and the others were at church. The baroness, whoserecovery was slow, was up in her room. 

"What mothers?" naturally inquired the princess. 

"I think this everlasting heat is dreadful, " said Anna plaintively. "Ihave no backbone left. I am all limp, and soft, and silly. In coldweather I believe I wouldn't want a mother half so badly. "

"So you want a mother?" said the princess, taking Anna's hand in hersand patting it kindly. She thought she knew why. Everyone in the housesaw that something must have been said to Axel Lohm to make him keepaway so long. Perhaps Anna was repenting, and wanted a mother's help toset things right again. 

"I always thought it would be so glorious to be independent, " said Anna, "and now somehow it isn't. It is tiring. I want someone to tell me whatI ought to do, and to see that I do it. Besides petting me. I long andlong sometimes to be petted. "

The princess looked wise. "My dear, " she said, shaking her head, "it isnot a mother that you want. Do you know the couplet:--

 _Man bedarf der Leitung Und der männlichen Begleitung?_

A truly excellent couplet. "

Anna smiled. "That is the German idea of female bliss--always to be ledround by the nose by some husband. "

"Not _some_ husband, my dear--one's own husband. You may call it leadingby the nose if you like. I can only say that I enjoyed being led bymine, and have missed it grievously ever since. "

"But you had found the right man. "

"It is not very difficult to find the right man. "

"Yes it is--very difficult indeed. "

"I think not, " said the princess. "He is never far off. Sometimes, even, he is next door. " And she gazed over Anna's head at the ceiling withelaborate unconsciousness. 

"And besides, " said Anna, "why does a woman everlastingly want to be ledand propped? Why can't she go about the business of life on her ownfeet? Why must she always lean on someone?"

"You said just now it is because it is hot. "

"The fact is, " said Anna, "that I am not clever enough to see my waythrough puzzles. And that depresses me. "

"I well know that you must be puzzled. "

"Yes, it is puzzling, isn't it? I can talk to you about it, for ofcourse you see it all. It seems so absurd that the only result of mytrying to make people happy is to make everyone, including myself, wretched. That is waste, isn't it. Waste, I mean, of happiness. For I, at least, was happy before. "

"And, my dear, you will be happy again. "

Anna knit her brows in painful thought. "If by being wretched I hadmanaged to make the others happy it wouldn't have been so bad. At leastit wouldn't have been so completely silly. The only thing I can think ofis that I must have hit upon the wrong people. "

"_I Gott bewahre!_" cried the princess with energy. "They are all alike. Send these away, you get them back in a different shape. Faces and nameswould be different, never the women. They would all be Treumanns andElmreichs, and not a single one worth anything in the whole heap. "

"Well, I shall not desert them--Else and Emilie, I mean. They need help, both of them. And after all, it is simple selfishness for ever wantingto be happy oneself. I have begun to see that the chief thing in life isnot to be as happy as one can, but to be very brave. "

The princess sighed. "Poor Axel, " she said. 

Anna started, and blushed violently. "Pray what has my being brave to dowith Herr von Lohm?" she inquired severely. 

"Why, you are going to be brave at his expense, poor man. You must notexpect anything from me, my dear, but common sense. You give up all hopeof being happy because you think it your duty to go on sacrificing himand yourself to a set of thankless, worthless women, and you call itbeing brave. I call it being unnatural and silly. "

"It has never been a question of Herr von Lohm, " said Anna coldly, indeed freezingly. "What claims has he on me? My plans were all madebefore I knew that he existed. "

"Oh, my dear, your plans are very irritating things. The only plan asensible young woman ought to make is to get as good a husband aspossible as quickly as she can. "

"Why, " said Anna, rising in her indignation, and preparing to leave aprincess suddenly become objectionable, "why, you are as bad as Susie!"

"Susie?" said the princess, who had not heard of her by that name. "WasSusie also one who told you the truth?"

But Anna walked out of the room without answering, in a very dignifiedmanner; went into the loneliest part of the garden; sat down behind somebushes; and cried. 

She looked back on those childish tears afterwards, and on all that hadgone before, as the last part of a long sleep; a sleep disturbed bytroubling and foolish dreams, but still only a sleep and only dreams. She woke up the very next day, and remained wide awake after that forthe rest of her life. 

CHAPTER XXX

Anna drove into Stralsund the next morning to her banker, accompanied byMiss Leech. When they passed Axel's house she saw that his gate-postswere festooned with wreaths, and that garlands of flowers were strungacross the gateway, swaying to and fro softly in the light breeze. "Why, how festive it looks, " she exclaimed, wondering. 

"Yesterday was Herr von Lohm's birthday, " said Miss Leech. "I heardPrincess Ludwig say so. "

"Oh, " said Anna. Her tone was piqued. She turned her head away, andlooked at the hay-fields on the opposite side of the road. Axel musthave birthdays, of course, and why should he not put things round hisgate-posts if he wanted to? Yet she would not look again, and was silentthe rest of the way; nor was it of any use for Miss Leech to attempt towhile away the long drive with pleasant conversation. Anna would nottalk; she said it was too hot to talk. What she was thinking was thatmen were exceedingly horrid, all of them, and that life was a snare. 

Far from being festive, however, Axel's latest birthday was quite themost solitary he had yet spent. The cheerful garlands had been put up byan officious gardener on his own initiative. No one, except Axel's owndependents, had passed beneath them to wish him luck. Trudi hadtelegraphed her blessings, administering them thus in their easiestform. His Stralsund friends had apparently forgotten him; in other yearsthey had been glad of the excuse the birthday gave for driving out intothe country in June, but this year the astonished Mamsell saw herbirthday cake remain untouched and her baked meats waiting vainly forsomebody to come and eat them. 

Axel neither noticed nor cared. The haymaking season had just begun, andbesides his own affairs he was preoccupied by Anna's. If she had notbeen shut up so long in the baroness's sick-room she would have met himoften enough. She thought he never intended to come near her again, andall the time, whenever he could spare a moment and often when he couldnot, he was on her property, watching Dellwig's farming operations. Sheshould not suffer, he told himself, because he loved her; she should notbe punished because she was not able to love him. He would go on doingwhat he could for her, and was certainly, at his age, not going to sulkand leave her to face her difficulties alone. 

The first time he met Dellwig on these incursions into Anna's domain, heexpected to be received with a scowl; but Dellwig did not scowl at all;was on the contrary quite affable, even volunteering information aboutthe work he had in hand. Nor had he been after all offensively zealousin searching for the person who had set the stables on fire; and luckilythe Stralsund police had not been very zealous either. Klutz was lookedfor for a little while after Axel had denounced him as the probableculprit, but the matter had been dropped, apparently, and for the lastten days nothing more had been said or done. Axel was beginning to hopethat the whole thing had blown over, that there was to be nounpleasantness after all for Anna. Hearing that the baroness was nearlywell, he decided to go and call at Kleinwalde as though nothing hadhappened. Some time or other he must meet Anna. They could not live onadjoining estates and never see each other. The day after his birthdayhe arranged to go round in the afternoon and take up the threads ofordinary intercourse again, however much it made him suffer. 

Meanwhile Anna did her business in Stralsund, discovered on interviewingher banker that she had already spent more than two-thirds of a wholeyear's income, lunched pensively after that on ices with Miss Leech, walked down to the quay and watched the unloading of the fishing-smackswhile Fritz and the horses had their dinner, was very much stared at bythe inhabitants, who seldom saw anything so pretty, and finally, abouttwo o'clock, started again for home. 

As they drew near Axel's gate, and she was preparing to turn her faceaway from its ostentatious gaiety, a closed _Droschke_ came through ittowards them, followed at a short distance by a second. 

Miss Leech said nothing, strange though this spectacle was on that quietroad, for she felt that these were the departing guests, and, like Anna, she wondered how a man who loved in vain could have the heart to giveparties. Anna said nothing either, but watched the approaching_Droschkes_ curiously. Axel was sitting in the first one, on the sidenear her. He wore his ordinary farming clothes, the Norfolk jacket, andthe soft green hat. There were three men with him, seedy-lookingindividuals in black coats. She bowed instinctively, for he was lookingout of the window full at her, but he took no notice. She turned verywhite. 

The second _Droschke_ contained four more queer-looking persons in blackclothes. When they had passed, Fritz pulled up his horses of his ownaccord, and twisting himself round stared after the receding cloud ofdust. 

Anna had been cut by Axel; but it was not that that made her turn sowhite--it was something in his face. He had looked straight at her, andhe had not seen her. 

"Who are those people?" she asked Fritz in a voice that faltered, shedid not know why. 

Fritz did not answer. He stared down the road after the _Droschkes_, shook his head, began to scratch it, jerked himself round again to hishorses, drove on a few yards, pulled them up a second time, looked back, shook his head, and was silent. 

"Fritz, do you know them?" Anna asked more authoritatively. 

But Fritz only mumbled something soothing and drove on. 

Anna had not failed to notice the old man's face as he watched thedeparting _Droschkes_; it wore an oddly amazed and scared expression. Her heart seemed to sink within her like a stone, yet she could giveherself no reason for it. She tried to order him to turn up the avenueto Axel's house, but her lips were dry, and the words would not come;and while she was struggling to speak the gate was passed. Then she wasrelieved that it was passed, for how could she, only because she had apresentiment of trouble, go to Axel's house? What did she think of doingthere? Miss Leech glanced at her, and asked if anything was the matter. 

"No, " said Anna in a whisper, looking straight before her. Nor was thereanything the matter; only that blind look on Axel's face, and thestrange feeling in her heart. 

A knot of people stood outside the post office talking eagerly. They allstopped talking to stare at Anna when the carriage came round thecorner. Fritz whipped up his horses and drove past them at a gallop. 

"Wait--I want to get out, " cried Anna as they came to the parsonage. "Doyou mind waiting?" she asked Miss Leech. "I want to speak to HerrPastor. I will not be a moment. "

She went up the little trim path to the porch. The maid-of-all-work wasclearing away the coffee from the table. Frau Manske came bustling outwhen she heard Anna's voice asking for her husband. She lookedextraordinarily excited. "He has not come back yet, " she cried beforeAnna could speak, "he is still at the _Schloss_. _Gott Du Allmächtiger_, did one ever hear of anything so terrible?"

Anna looked at her, her face as white as her dress. "Tell me, " she triedto say; but no sound passed her lips. She made a great effort, and thewords came in a whisper: "Tell me, " she said. 

"What, the gracious Miss has not heard? Herr von Lohm has beenarrested. "

It was impossible not to enjoy imparting so tremendous a piece of news, however genuinely shocked one might be. Frau Manske brought it out witha ring of pride. It would not be easy to beat, she felt, in the way ofnews. Then she remembered the gossip about Anna and Axel, and observedher with increased interest. Was she going to faint? It would be theonly becoming course for her to take if it were true that there had beencourting. 

But Anna, whose voice had failed her before, when once she had heardwhat it was that had happened, seemed curiously cold and composed. 

"What was he accused of?" was all she asked; so calmly, Frau Manskeafterwards told her friends, that it was not even womanly in the face ofso great a misfortune. 

"He set fire to the stables, " said Frau Manske. 

"It is a lie, " said Anna; also, as Frau Manske afterwards pointed out toher friends, an unwomanly remark. 

"He did it himself to get the insurance money. "

"It is a lie, " repeated Anna, in that cold voice. 

"Eye-witnesses will swear to it. "

"They will lie, " said Anna again; and turned and walked away. "Go on, "she said to Fritz, taking her place beside Miss Leech. 

She sat quite silent till they were near the house. Then she called tothe coachman to stop. "I am going into the forest for a little while, "she said, jumping out "You drive on home. " And she crossed the roadquickly, her white dress fluttering for a moment between thepine-trunks, and then disappearing in the soft green shadow. 

Miss Leech drove on alone, sighing gently. Something was troubling herdear Miss Estcourt. Something out of the ordinary had happened. Shewished she could help her. She drove on, sighing. 

Directly the road was out of sight, Anna struck back again to the left, across the moss and lichen, towards the place where she knew there was apath that led to Lohm. She walked very straight and very quickly. Shedid not miss her way, but found the path and hastened her steps to arun. What were they doing to Axel? She was going to his house, alone. People would talk. Who cared? And when she had heard all that could betold her there, she was going to Axel himself. People would talk. Whocared? The laughable indifference of slander, when big issues of lifeand death were at stake! All the tongues of all the world should notfrighten her away from Axel. Her eyes had a new look in them. For thefirst time she was wide awake, was facing life as it is without dreams, facing its absolute cruelty and pitilessness. This was life, these werethe realities--suffering, injustice, and shame; not to be avoidedapparently by the most honourable and innocent of men; but at least tobe fought with all the weapons in one's power, with unflinching courageto the end, whatever that end might be. That was what one needed most, of all the gifts of the gods--not happiness--oh, foolish, childishdream! how could there be happiness so long as men were wicked?--butcourage. That blind look on Axel's face--no, she would not think ofthat; it tore her heart. She stumbled a little as she ran--no, she wouldnot think of that. 

Out in the open, between the forest and Lohm, she met Manske. "I wascoming to you, " he said. 

"I am going to him, " said Anna. 

"Oh, my dear young lady!" cried Manske; and two big tears rolled downhis face. 

"Don't cry, " she said, "it does not help him. "

"How can I not do so after seeing what I have this day seen?"

She hurried on. "Come, " she said, "we must not waste time. He needshelp. I am going to his house to see what I can do. Where did they takehim?"

"They took him to prison. "

"Where?"

"Stralsund. "

"Will he be there long?"

"Till after the trial. "

"And that will be?"

"God knows. "

"I am going to him. Come with me. We will take his horses. "

"Oh, dear Miss, dear Miss, " cried Manske, wringing his hands, "they willnot let us see him--you they will not let in under any circumstances, and me only across mountains of obstacles. The official who conductedthe arrest, when I prayed for permission to visit my dear patron, wasbrutality itself. 'Why should you visit him?' he asked, sneering. 'Theprison chaplain will do all that is needful for his soul. ' 'Let it be, Manske, ' said my dear patron, but still I prayed. 'I cannot give youpermission, ' said the man at last, weary of my importunity, 'it restswith my chief. You must go to him. '"

"Who is the chief?"

"I know not. I know nothing. My head is in a whirl. "

"He must be somewhere in Stralsund. We will find him, if we have to askfrom door to door. And I'll get permission for myself. "

"Oh, dearest Miss, none will be given you. The man said only his nearestrelatives, and those only very seldom--for I asked all I could, I feltthe moments were priceless--my dear patron spoke not a word. 'His wife, if he has one, ' said the man, making hideous pleasantries--he well knewthere is no wife--or his _Braut_, if there is one, or a brother or asister, but no one else. "

"Do his brothers and Trudi know?"

"I at once telegraphed to them. "

"Then they will be here to-night. "

The women and children in the village ran out to look at Anna as shepassed. She did not see them. Axel's house stood open. The Mamsell, overcome by the shame of having been in such a service, was in hystericsin the kitchen, and the inspector, a devoted servant who loved hismaster, was upbraiding her with bitterest indignation for daring to saysuch things of such a master. The Mamsell's laments and the inspector'sfurious reproaches echoed through the empty house. The door, like thegate, was garlanded with flowers. Little more than an hour had gone bysince Axel passed out beneath them to ruin. 

Anna went straight to the study. His papers were lying about indisorder; the drawer of the writing-table was unlocked, and his keyshung in it He had been writing letters, evidently, for an unfinished onelay on the table. She stood a moment quite still in the silent room. Manske had gone to find the coachman, and she could hear his steps onthe stones beneath the open windows. The desolation of the desertedroom, the terrible sense of misfortune worse than death that broodedover it, struck her like a blow that for ever destroyed her cheerfulyouth. She never forgot the look and the feeling of that room. She wentto the writing-table, dropped on her knees, and laid her cheek, with anabandonment of tenderness, on the open, unfinished letter. "How are suchthings possible--how are they possible----" she murmured passionately, shutting her eyes to press back the useless tears. "So useless to cry, so useless, " she repeated piteously, as she felt the scalding tears, inspite of all her efforts to keep them back, stealing through hereyelashes. And everything else that she did or could do--how useless. What could she do for him, who had no claim on him at all? How could shereach him across this gulf of misery? Yes, it was good to be brave inthis world, it was good to have courage, but courage without weapons, ofwhat use was it? She was a woman, a stranger in a strange land, she hadno friends, no influence--she was useless. Manske found her kneelingthere, holding the writing-table tightly in her outstretched arms, pressing her bosom against it as though it were something that couldfeel, her eyes shut, her face a desolation. "Do not cry, " he begged inhis turn, "dearest Miss, do not cry--it cannot help him. "

They locked up his papers and everything that they thought might be ofvalue before they left. Manske took the keys. Anna half put out her handfor them, then dropped it at her side. She had less claim than Manske:he was Axel's pastor; she was nothing to him at all. 

They left the dog-cart at the entrance to the town and went in search ofa _Droschke_. Manske's weather-beaten face flushed a dull red when hegave the order to drive to the prison. The prison was in a by-street ofshabby houses. Heads appeared at the windows of the houses as the_Droschke_ rattled up over the rough stones, and the children playingabout the doors and gutters stopped their games and crowded round tostare. 

They went up the dirty steps and rang the bell. The door was immediatelyopened a few inches by an official who shouted "The visiting hour ispast, " and shut it again. 

Manske rang a second time. 

"Well, what do you want?" asked the man angrily, thrusting out his head. 

Manske stated, in the mildest, most conciliatory tones, that he would beinfinitely obliged if he would tell him what steps he ought to take toobtain permission to visit one of the inmates. 

"You must have a written order, " snapped the man, preparing to shut thedoor again. The street children were clustering at the bottom of thesteps, listening eagerly. 

"To whom should I apply?" asked Manske. 

"To the judge who has conducted the preliminary inquiries. "

The door was slammed, and locked from within with a great noise ofrattling keys. The sound of the keys made Anna feel faint; Axel was onthe other side of that ostentation of brute force. She leaned againstthe wall shivering. The children tittered; she was a very fine lady, they thought, to have friends in there. 

"The judge who conducted the preliminary inquiries, " repeated Manske, looking dazed. "Who may he be? Where shall we find him? I fear I amsadly inexperienced in these matters. "

There was nothing to be done but to face the official's wrath once more. He timidly rang the bell again. This time he was kept waiting. There wasa little round window in the door, and he could see the man on the otherside leaning against a table trimming his nails. The man also could seehim. Manske began to knock on the glass in his desperation. The manremained absorbed by his nails. 

Anna was suffering a martyrdom. Her head drooped lower and lower. Thechildren laughed loud. Just then heavy steps were heard approaching onthe pavement, and the children fled with one accord. Immediatelyafterwards an official, apparently of a higher grade than the manwithin, came up. He glanced curiously at the two suppliants as he thrusthis hand into his pocket and pulled out a key. Before he could fit it inthe lock the man on the other side had seen him, had sprung to the door, flung it open, and stood at attention. 

Manske saw that here was his opportunity. He snatched off his hat. "Sir, " he cried, "one moment, for God's sake. "

"Well?" inquired the official sharply. 

"Where can I obtain an order of admission?"

"To see----?"

"My dear patron, Herr von Lohm, who by some incomprehensible andappalling mistake----"

"You must go to the judge who conducted the preliminary inquiries. "

"But who is he, and where is he to be found?"

The official looked at his watch. "If you hurry you may still find himat the Law Courts. In the next street. Examining Judge Schultz. "

And the door was shut. 

So they went to the Law Courts, and hurried up and down staircases andalong endless corridors, vainly looking for someone to direct them toExamining Judge Schultz. The building was empty; they did not meet asoul, and they went down one passage after the other, anguish in Anna'sheart, and misery hardly less acute in Manske's. At last they hearddistant voices echoing through the emptiness. They followed the sound, and found two women cleaning. 

"Can you direct me to the room of the Examining Judge Schultz?" askedManske, bowing politely. 

"The gentlemen have all gone home. Business hours are over, " was theanswer. Could they perhaps give his private address? No, they could not;perhaps the porter knew. Where was the porter? Somewhere about. 

They hurried downstairs again in search of the porter. Another tenminutes was wasted looking for him. They saw him at last through theglass of the entrance door, airing himself on the steps. 

The porter gave them the address, and they lost some more minutes tryingto find their _Droschke_, for they had come out at a different entranceto the one they had gone in by. By this time Manske was speechless, andAnna was half dead. 

They climbed three flights of stairs to the Examining Judge's flat, andafter being kept waiting a long while--"_Der Herr Untersuchungsrichterist bei Tisch_, " the slovenly girl had announced--were told by him verycurtly that they must go to the Public Prosecutor for the order. Annawent out without a word. Manske bowed and apologised profusely forhaving disturbed the _Herr Untersuchungsrichter_ at his repast; he feltthe necessity of grovelling before these persons whose power was soalmighty. The Examining Judge made no reply whatever to these piteousamiabilities, but turned on his heel, leaving them to find the door asbest they could. 

The Public Prosecutor lived at the other end of the town. They neitherof them spoke a word on the way there. In answer to their anxiousinquiry whether they could speak to him, the woman who opened the doorsaid that her master was asleep; it was his hour for repose, having justsupped, and he could not possibly be disturbed. 

Anna began to cry. Manske gripped hold of her hand and held it fast, patting it while he continued to question the servant. "He will see noone so late, " she said. "He will sleep now till nine, and then go out. You must come to-morrow. "

"At what time?"

"At ten he goes to the Law Courts. You must come before then. "

"Thank you, " said Manske, and drew Anna away. "Do not cry, _liebesKind_, " he implored, his own eyes brimming with miserable tears. "Do notlet the coachman see you like this. We must go home now. There isnothing to be done. We will come early to-morrow, and have moresuccess. "

They stopped a moment in the dark entrance below, trying to composetheir faces before going out. They did not dare look at each other. Thenthey went out and drove away. 

The stars were shining as they passed along the quiet country road, andall the way was drenched with the fragrance of clover and freshly-cuthay. The sky above the rye fields on the left was still rosy. Not a leafstirred. Once, when the coachman stopped to take a stone out of ahorse's shoe, they could hear the crickets, and the cheerful humming ofa column of gnats high above their heads. 

CHAPTER XXXI

Gustav von Lohm found Manske's telegram on his table when he came inwith his wife from his afternoon ride in the Thiergarten. 

"What is it?" she inquired, seeing him turn pale; and she took it out ofhis hand and read it. "Disgraceful, " she murmured. 

"I must go at once, " he said, looking round helplessly. 

"Go?"

When a wife says "Go?" in that voice, if she is a person ofdetermination and her husband is a person of peace, he does not go; hestays. Gustav stayed. It is true that at first he decided to leaveBerlin by the early train next morning; but his wife employed the hoursof darkness addressing him, as he lay sleepless, in the language ofwisdom; and the wisdom being of that robust type known as worldly, itinevitably produced its effect on a mind naturally receptive. 

"Relations, " she said, "are at all times bad enough. They do less foryou and expect more from you than anyone else. They are the last tocongratulate if you succeed, and the first to abandon if you fail. Theyare at one and the same time abnormally truthful, and abnormallysensitive. They regard it as infinitely more blessed to administerhome-truths than to receive them back again. But, so long as they do notactually break the laws, prejudice demands that they shall be bornewith. In my family, no one ever broke the laws. It has been reserved formy married life, this connection with criminals. "

She was a woman of ready and frequent speech, and she continued in thisstrain for some time. Towards morning, nature refusing to endure more, Gustav fell asleep; and when he woke the early train was gone. 

In the same manner did his wife prevent his writing to his unhappybrother. "It is sad that such things should be, " she said, "sad that aman of birth should commit so vulgar a crime; but he has done it, he hasdisgraced us, he has struck a blow at our social position which mayeasily, if we are not careful, prove fatal. Take my advice--have nothingto do with him. Leave him to be dealt with as the law shall demand. Wewho abide by the laws are surely justified in shunning, in abhorring, those who deliberately break them. Leave him alone. "

And Gustav left him alone. 

Trudi was at a picnic when the telegram reached her flat. With severalof her female friends and a great many lieutenants she was playing atbeing frisky among the haycocks beyond the town. Her two little boys, Billy and Tommy, who would really have enjoyed haycocks, were leftsternly at home. She invited the whole party to supper at her flat, anddrove home in the dog-cart of the richest of the young men, makingimmense efforts to please him, and feeling that she must be looking verypicturesque and sweet in her flower-trimmed straw hat and muslin dress, silhouetted against the pale gold of the evening sky. 

Her eye fell on the telegram as the picnic party came crowding in. 

"Bill coming home?" inquired somebody. 

"I'm afraid he is, " she said, opening it. 

She read it, and could not prevent a change of expression. There was aburst of laughter. The young men declared they would never marry. Theyoung women, prone at all times to pity other women's husbands, criticised Trudi's pale face, and secretly pitied Bill. She lit acigarette, flung herself into a chair, and became very cheerful. She hadnever been so amusing. She kept them in a state of uproarious mirth tillthe small hours. The richest lieutenant, who had found her distinctly abore during the drive home, went away feeling quite affectionate. Whenthey had all gone, she dropped on to her bed, and cried, and cried. 

It was in the papers next morning, and at breakfast Trudi and her familywere in every mouth. Bibi came running round, genuinely distressed. Shehad not been invited to the picnic, but she forgot that in her sympathy. "I wanted to catch you before you start, " she said, vigorously embracingher poor friend. 

"Where should I start for?" asked Trudi, offering a cold cheek to Bibi'skisses. 

"Are you not going to Herr von Lohm?" exclaimed Bibi, open-mouthed. 

"What, when he tries to cheat insurance companies?"

"But he never, never set fire to those buildings himself. "

"Didn't he, though?" Trudi turned her head, and looked straight intoBibi's eyes. "I know him better than you do, " she said slowly. 

She had decided that that was the only way--to cast him off altogether;and it must be done at once and thoroughly. Indeed, how was it possiblenot to hate him? It was the most dreadful thing to happen to her. Shewould suffer by it in every way. If he were guilty or not guilty, he wasanyhow a fool to let himself get into such a position, and how she hatedsuch fools! She registered a solemn vow that she had done with Axel forever. 

At Kleinwalde the effect of the news was to make Frau Dellwig slay a pigand send out invitations for an unusually large Sunday party. She andher husband could hardly veil their beaming satisfaction with a decentappearance of dismay. "What would his poor father, our gracious master'soldest friend, have said!" ejaculated Dellwig at dinner, when theservant was in the room. 

"It is truly merciful that he did not live to see it, " said his wife, with pious head-shakings. 

What Anna was doing at Stralsund, no one knew. She said she was havingsome bother with her bank. Miss Leech related how they had been to thebank on the Monday. "I must go again, " Anna said on the evening of thefruitless Tuesday, when she had been the whole day again with Manske, vainly trying to obtain permission to visit Axel; and she added, herhead drooping, her voice faint, that it was a great bore. Certainly shelooked profoundly unhappy. 

"One cannot be too careful in money matters, " remarked Frau vonTreumann, alarmed by Anna's white looks, and afraid lest by some foolishneglect on her part supplies should cease. She enthusiasticallyencouraged these visits to the bank. "Take care of your bank, " she said, "and your bank will take care of you. That is what we say in Germany. "

But Anna did not hear. There was but one thought in her mind, one cry inher heart--how could she reach, how could she help, Axel?

He was in a cell about five yards long by three wide. There was justroom to pass between the camp bedstead and the small deal table standingagainst the opposite wall. Besides this furniture, there was one chair, an empty wooden box turned up on end, with a tin basin on it--that washis washstand--a little shelf fixed on the wall, and on the little shelfa tin mug, a tin plate, a pot of salt, a small loaf of black bread, anda Bible. The walls were painted brown, and the window, fitted withground glass, was high up near the ceiling; it was barred on theoutside, and could only be opened a few inches at the top. On the door aneat printed card was fastened, giving, besides information for theguidance of the habitually dirty as to the cleansing properties ofwater, the quantity of oakum the occupant of the cell would be expectedto pick every day. The cell was used sometimes for condemned criminals, hence the mention of the oakum; but the card caught Axel's eye wheneverhe reached that end of the room in his pacings up and down, and withoutknowing it he learnt its rules by heart. 

At first he had been completely dazed, absolutely unable to understandthe meaning and extent of the misfortune that had overtaken him; butthere was a grim, uncompromising reality about the prison, about theheavy doors he passed through, each one barred and locked behind him, each one cutting him off more utterly from the common free life outside, about the look of the miserable beings he met being taken to or fromtheir work by armed warders, about the warders themselves with theirgreat keys, polished by frequent use--there was about these things aninexorable reality that shook him out of the blind apathy into which hehad fallen after his arrest. Some extraordinary mistake had been made;and, knowing that he had done nothing, when first he began to thinkconnectedly he was certain that it could only be a matter of hoursbefore he was released. But the horror of his position was there. Released or not released, who would make good to him what he wassuffering and what he would have lost? He had been searched on hisarrival--his money, watch, and a ring he wore of his mother's taken fromhim. The young official who arrested him--he was the Junior PublicProsecutor--presided at these operations with immense zeal. Being youngand obscure, he thirsted to make a name for himself, and opportunitieswere few in that little town. To be put in charge, therefore, of thissensational case, was to behold opening out before him the rosiestprospects for the future. His name, which was Meyer, would flare up inflames of glory from the ashes of Axel's honour. Stralsund, ringing withthe ancient name of Lohm, would be forced to ring simultaneously withthe less ancient and not in itself interesting name of Meyer. He hadarrested Lohm, he had special charge of the case, he could not but betalked about at last. His zeal and satisfaction accordingly were great, carrying him far beyond the limits usual on such occasions. Axel stoodamazed at the trick of fortune that had so suddenly flung him into thepower of a young man called Meyer. 

Soon after he was locked in his cell, a warder came in with a great potof liquid food, a sort of thick soup made chiefly of beans, with otherbodies, unknown to Axel, floating about among them. 

"Your plate, " said the warder, jerking his head in the direction of thelittle shelf on which stood Axel's dining facilities; and he raised thepot preparatory to pouring out some of its contents. 

"Thank you, " said Axel, "I don't want any. "

"You'll be hungry then, " said the man, going away. "There is no morefood to-day. "

Axel said nothing, and he went out. The smell of the soup, which wasapparently of great potency, filled the little room. Axel tried to openthe window wider, but though he was tall and he stood on his table, hecould not reach it. 

It began to get dark. The lamps in the street below were lit, and theshouts of the children at play came up to him. He guessed that it mustbe past nine, and wondered how long he was to be left there without alight. As it grew darker, his thoughts grew very dark. He paced up anddown more and more restlessly, trying to force them into clearness. Inthe hurry and dismay he had left his keys at Lohm, he remembered, andall his money and papers were at the mercy of the first-comer. And hewas poor; he could not afford to lose any money, or any time. Supposinghe were to be kept here more than a few hours, what would become of hisfarming, just now at its busiest season, his people used to his constantdirection and control, his inspector accustomed to do nothing withoutthe master's orders? And what would be the moral effect on them of hisarrest? If he had a pencil and paper he would write some hasty messagesto keep them all at their posts till his return; but he had no writingmaterials, he was quite helpless. He had sent urgent word to his lawyerin Stralsund, telegraphing to him through Manske before leaving home, and he had expected to find him waiting for him at the prison. But hehad not come. Why did he not come? Why did he leave him helpless at sucha moment? Axel was determined to face his misfortune quietly; yet thefeeling of absolute impotence, of being as it were bound hand and footwhen there was such dire necessity for immediate action, almost brokedown his resolution. 

But it was only for a few hours, he assured himself, walking faster, thrusting his hands deeper into his pockets, and he could bear anythingfor a few hours. His brothers would come to him--to-morrow the firstthing his lawyer would certainly come. It was all so extremely absurd;yet it was amazing the amount of suffering one such absurd mistake couldinflict. "Thank God, " he exclaimed aloud, stopping in his walk, struckby a new thought, "thank God that I have neither wife nor children. " Andhe paced up and down again more slowly, his shoulders bent, his headsunk, a dull flush on his face; he was thinking of Anna. 

The door was unlocked, and a warder with a bull's-eye lantern came inquickly. "The Public Prosecutor is coming up, " he said breathlessly. "When he comes in, you stand at attention and recite your name and thecrime of which you are accused. "

He had hardly finished when the Public Prosecutor appeared. The wardersprang to attention. Axel slowly and unwillingly did the same. 

"Well?" snarled the great man, as Axel did not speak. He was an old man, with a face grown sly and hard during years of association withcriminals, of experiences confined solely to the ugly sides of life. 

"My name is Lohm, " said Axel, feeling the folly of attempting to defyanyone so absolutely powerful in the place where he was; and heproceeded to explain the crime of which he was suspected. 

The Public Prosecutor, who knew perfectly well everything about him, having himself arranged every detail of the arrest, said somethingincomprehensible and was going away. 

"May I have a light of some sort?" asked Axel, "and writing materials? Iabsolutely must be able to----"

"You cannot expect the luxuries of a _Schloss_ here, " said the PublicProsecutor with a scowl, turning on his heel and signing to the warderto lock the door again. And he continued his rounds, congratulatinghimself on having demonstrated that in his independent eye the bearer ofthe most ancient name and the offscourings of the street, tried oruntried, were equal--sinners, that is, all of them--and would receiveexactly the same treatment at his hands. Indeed, he was so anxious toimpress this laudable impartiality on the members of the littleprison-world, which was the only world he knew, that he overshot themark, refusing Axel small conveniences that he would have unhesitatinglygranted a suppliant called Schmidt, Schultz, or Meyer. 

It was now quite dark, except for the faint light from the lamps in thestreet below. Weary to death, Axel flung himself down on the little bed. He had brought a few necessaries, hastily thrown into a bag by hisservant, necessaries that had first been carefully handled and inspectedwith every symptom of distrust by the Junior Public Prosecutor Meyer;but he did not unpack them. Judging from the shortness of the bed, heconcluded that criminals must be a stunted race. Sleeping was not madeeasy by this bed, and he lay awake staring at the shadows cast by theiron bars outside his window on to the ceiling. These shadows affectedhim oddly. He shut his eyes, but still he saw them; he turned his headto the wall and tried not to think of them, but still he saw them. Theyexpressed the whole misery of his situation. 

He had dozed off, worn out, when a bright light on his face woke him. Hestarted up in bed, confused, hardly remembering where he was. A feelingvery nearly resembling horror came over him. A bull's-eye lantern wasbeing held close to his face. He could see nothing but the bright light. The man holding it did not speak, and presently backed out again, bolting the door behind him. Axel lay down, reflecting that suchsurprises, added to anxiety and bad food, must wear out a suspectedculprit's nerves with extraordinary rapidity and thoroughness. Therecould not, he thought, be much left of a man in the way of brains andcalmness by the time he was taken before the judge to clear himself. Theincident completely banished all tendency to sleep. He remained wideawake after that, tormented by anxious thoughts. 

Towards dawn, for which he thanked God when it came, the silence of theprison was broken by screams. He started up again and listened, hisblood frozen by the sound of them. They were terrible to hear, echoingthrough that place. Again a feeling of sheer horror came over him. Howlong would he be able to endure these things? The screams grew more andmore appalling. He sprang up and went to the door, and listened there. He thought he heard steps outside, and knocked. "What is thatscreaming?" he cried out. But no one answered. The shrieks reached aclimax of anguish, and suddenly stopped. Death-like stillness fell againupon the prison. Axel spent what was left of the night pacing up anddown. 

The prison day did not begin till six. Axel, used to his busy countrylife that got him out of his bed and on to his horse at four these finesummer mornings, heard sounds of life below in the street--early cartsand voices--long before life stirred within the walls. He understoodafterwards why the inmates were allowed to lie in bed so long: it wasconvenient for the warders. The prisoners rose at six, and went to bedagain at six, in the full sunshine of those June afternoons. Thusdisposed of, the warders could relax their vigilance and enjoy somehours of rest. The effect, moralising or the reverse, on the prisoners, who could by no means get themselves off to sleep at six o'clock, was ofthe supremest indifference to everyone concerned. Axel, not yet havingbeen tried, and not yet therefore having been placed in the commondormitory, was not forced into bed at any particular time. He mightenjoy evenings as long as those of the warders if he chose, and he mightget up as early as though his horse were waiting below to take him tohis hay-fields if he liked; but this privilege, without the means ofemploying the extra hours, was valueless. He watched anxiously for thebroad daylight that would bring his lawyer and put an end to this firstmartyrdom of helpless waiting. Towards seven, one of the prisoners, whose good conduct had procured him promotion to cleaning the passagesand doing other work of the kind, brought him another loaf of bread anda pot of coffee. From this young man, a white-faced, artful-lookingyouth, with closely-cropped hair and wearing the coarse, brown prisondress, Axel heard that the ghastly screams in the night came from aprisoner who had _delirium tremens_; he had been put in the cellar toget over the attack; he could scream as loud as he liked there, and noone would hear him; they always put him in the cellar when the attackscame on. The young man grinned. Evidently he thought the arrangementboth good and funny. 

"Poor wretch, " said Axel, profoundly pitying those other wretched humanbeings, his fellow-prisoners. 

"Oh, he is very happy there. He plays all day long at catching therats. "

"The rats?"

"They say there are no rats--that he only thinks he sees them. Butwhether the rats are real or not it amuses him trying to catch them. When he is quiet again, he is brought back to us. "

A warder appeared and said there was too much talking. The young manslid away swiftly and silently. He was a thief by profession, ofsuperior skill and intelligence. 

Axel ate part of the bread, and succeeded in swallowing some of thecoffee, and then began his walk again, up and down, up and down, listening intently at the door each time he came to it for sounds of hislawyer's approach. The morning must be halfway through, he thought; whydid he not come? How could he let him wait at such a crisis? How couldany of them--Gustav, Trudi, Manske--let him wait at such a crisis? Hegrew terribly anxious. He had expected Gustav by the first train fromBerlin; he might have been with him by nine o'clock. The other brother, he knew, would be less easily reached by the telegram--he was attachedto the person of a prince whose movements were uncertain; but Gustav?Well, he must be patient; he may not have been at home; the next trainarrived in the afternoon; he would come by that. 

The door opened, and he turned eagerly; but it was the Public Prosecutoragain. 

"Name, name, and crime!" frantically whispered the accompanying warder, as Axel stood silent. Axel repeated the formula of the night before. Every time these visits were made he had to go through this performance, his heels together, his body rigid. 

"Bed not made, " said the Public Prosecutor. 

"Bed not made, " repeated the warder, glaring at Axel. 

"Make it, " ordered the chief; and went out. 

"Make it, " hissed the warder; and followed him. 

His lawyer came in simultaneously with his dinner. 

"Plate, " said the warder with the pot. 

"This is a sad sight, Herr von Lohm, " said the lawyer. 

"It is, " agreed Axel, reaching down his plate. He allowed some of themess to be poured into it; he was not going to starve only because thesoup was potent. 

"I expected you yesterday, " he said to the lawyer. 

"Ah--I was engaged yesterday. "

The lawyer's manner was so peculiar that Axel stared at him, doubtful ifhe really were the right man. He was a native of Stralsund, and Axel hademployed him ever since he came into his estate, and had found his worksatisfactory, and his manners exceedingly polite--so polite, indeed, asto verge on cringing; but then, as Manske would have pointed out, he wasa Jew. Now the whole man was changed. The ingratiating smiles, the bows, the rubbed hands, where were they? The lawyer sat at his ease on the onechair, his hands in his pockets, a toothpick in his mouth, andscrutinised Axel while he told him his case, with an insolent look ofincredulity. 

"He actually believes I set the place on fire, " thought Axel, struck bythe look. 

He did actually believe it. He always believed the worst, for hisexperience had been that the worst is what comes most often nearest thetruth; but then, as Manske would have explained, he was a Jew. 

The interview was extremely unsatisfactory. "I have an appointment, "said the lawyer, pulling out his watch before they had half discussedthe situation. 

"You appear to forget that this is a matter of enormous importance tome, " said Axel, wrath in his eyes and voice. 

"That is what each of my clients invariably says, " replied the lawyer, stretching across the table for his gloves. 

"How can we arrange anything in a ten minutes' conversation?" inquiredAxel indignantly. 

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. "I cannot neglect all my otherbusiness. "

"I do not remember your having been so pressed for time formerly. Ishall expect you again this afternoon. "

"An impossibility. "

"Then to-morrow the first thing. That is, if I am still here. "

The lawyer grinned. "It is not so easy to get out of these places as itis to get in, " he said, drawing on his gloves. "By the way, my fees insuch cases are payable beforehand. "

Axel flushed. He could hardly believe the evidence of his senses thatthis was the obsequious person who had for so long managed his affairs. "My brother Gustav will arrange all that, " he said stiffly. "You know Ican do nothing here. He is coming this afternoon. "

"Oh, is he?" said the lawyer sceptically. "Is he indeed, now? That willbe a remarkable instance of brotherly devotion. I am truly glad to hearthat. Good-afternoon, " he nodded; and went out, leaving Axel in a fury. 

The one good result of his visit was that some time later Axel wasprovided with writing materials. He immediately fell to writing lettersand telegrams; urgent letters and telegrams, of a desperate importanceto himself. When his coffee was brought he gave them to the warder, andbegged him to see that they were despatched at once; then he paced upand down again, relieved at least by feeling that he could nowcommunicate with the outer world. 

"They have gone?" he asked anxiously, next time he saw the warder. "_Jawohl_, " was the reply. And gone they had, but only by slow stages tothe office of the Examining Judge Schultz, where they lay in a heapwaiting till he should have leisure and inclination to read them, and, if he approved of their contents, order them to be posted. There theylay for three days, and most of them were not passed after all, becausethe Examining Judge disliked the tone of the assurances in them that thewriter was innocent. He knew that trick; every prisoner invariablyprotested the same thing. But these protestations were unusually strong. They were of such strength that they actually produced in his ownhardened and experienced mind a passing doubt, absurd of course, and notfor one moment to be considered, whether the Stralsund authorities mightnot have blundered. It was a dangerous notion to put into people'sheads, that the Stralsund authorities, of whom he was one, couldblunder. Blunders meant a reproof from headquarters and a retardedcareer; their possibility, therefore, was not to be entertained for amoment. Even should they have been made, it must not get about that theyhad been made. He accordingly suppressed nearly all the letters. 

Gustav must have missed the second train as well, for when the sky grewrosy, and Axel knew that the sun was setting, he was still alone. 

The few hours he had thought to stay in that place were lengthening outinto days, he reflected. If Gustav did not come soon, what should he do?Someone he must have to look after his affairs, to arrange with thelawyer, to be a link connecting him with outside. And who but hisbrother and heir? Still, he would certainly come soon, and Trudi too. Poor little Trudi--he was afraid she would be terribly upset. 

But the hours passed, and no one came. 

That evening he was given a lamp. It burnt badly and smelt atrociously. He asked if the window might be opened a little wider. The request hadto be made in writing, said the warder, and submitted through the usualchannels to the Public Prosecutor, without whose permission no windowmight be touched. Axel wrote the request, and the warder took it away. It came back two days later with an intimation scrawled across it thatif the prisoner von Lohm were not satisfied with his cell he would begiven a worse one. 

The night came, and had to be gone through somehow. Axel sat for hourson the side of his bed, his head supported in his hands, struggling withdespair. A profound gloom was settling down on him. The knowledge thathe had done nothing had ceased to reassure him. The lawyer was rightwhen he said that it was easier to get into such a place than to get outagain. Klutz had denounced him, to save himself; of that he had not adoubt. And Dellwig, well known and greatly respected, had supportedKlutz. This explained Dellwig's conduct lately completely. Axel'scourage was perilously near giving way as he recognised the difficultyhe would have in proving that he was innocent. If no one helped him fromoutside, his case was indeed desperate. He did not remember ever to haveturned his back on a friend in distress; how was it, then, that not afriend was to be found to come to him in his extremity? Where were theyall, those jovial companions who shot over his estate with him so often, driving any distance for the pleasure of killing his game? What waskeeping Gustav back? Why did he not even send a message? How was it thatManske, who professed so much attachment to his house, besides suchstores of Christian charity, did not make an effort to reach him? He hadnever asked or wanted anything of anyone in his life; but this was soterrible, his need was so extreme. What a failure his whole life was. Hehad been alone, always. During all the years when other men have wivesand children he had been working hard, alone. He had had no happy days, as the old Romans would have said. And now total ruin was upon him. Sitting there through the night, he began to understand the despair thatimpels unhappy beings in a like situation, forsaken of God and men, tomake wild efforts to get out of such places, conscious that they availnothing, but at least bruising and crushing themselves into the blessedindifference of exhaustion. 

The hours dragged by, each one a lifetime, each one so packed withopportunities for going mad, he thought, as he counted how many of themseparated him already from his free, honourable past life. By the timemorning came, added to his other torturing anxieties, was the fear lesthe should fall ill in there before any steps had been taken for hisrelease. He sat leaning his head against the wall, indifferent to whatwent on around him, hardly listening any more for Gustav's footsteps. Hehad ceased to expect him. He had ceased to expect anyone. He satmotionless, suffering bodily now, a strange feeling in his head, histhoughts dwelling dully on his physical discomforts, on the closeness ofthe cell, on the horrible nights. He made a great effort to eat somedinner, but could not. What would become of him if he could neither eatnor sleep? On what stores of energy would he be able to draw when thetime came for defending himself? He was sitting by the table, leaninghis head against the wall, his eyes closed, when the prisoner-attendantcame to take away his dinner. "Ill?" inquired the young man cheerfully. Axel did not move or answer. It was too much trouble to speak. 

The warder, upon the attendant's remarking that No. 32 seemed unwell, examined him through the peep-hole in the door, but decided that he wasnot ill yet; not ill enough, that is. In another week he would be readyfor the prison doctor, but not yet. These things must take their course. It was always the same course; he had been a warder twenty years, andknew almost to an hour the date on which, after the arrest, the doctorwould be required. 

Axel was sitting in the same position when, about three o'clock, thedoor was unlocked again. He did not move or open his eyes. 

"_Ihr Fräulein Braut ist hier_, " said the warder. 

The word _Braut_, betrothed, sent Axel's thoughts back across the yearsto Hildegard. His betrothed? Had he heard the mocking words, or had hebeen dreaming? He turned his head and looked vaguely towards the door. All the sunlight was out there in the wide corridor, and in it, on thethreshold, stood Anna. 

What had she meant to say? She never could remember. It had beensomething deeply apologetic, ashamed. But her fears and her shame fellfrom her like a garment when she saw him. "Oh, poor Axel--oh, poorAxel----" she murmured with a quick sob. 

He tried to get up to come to her. In an instant she was at his side, and, stumbling, he fell on his knees, holding her by the dress, clingingto her as to his salvation. "It is not pity, Anna?" he asked in a voicesharp with an intolerable fear. 

And Anna, half blinded by her tears, deliberately put her arms round hisneck, relinquishing by that one action herself and her future entirelyto him, hauling down for ever her flag of independent womanhood, andbending down her face to that upturned face of agonised questioning laidher lips on his. "No, " she whispered, and she kissed him with apassionate tenderness between the words, "it is only love--onlylove----"

CHAPTER XXXII

There was a grave beauty, an austerity almost, about this betrothal inthe prison. Here was no room for the archnesses and coynesses ofordinary lovemaking. All that was not simple truth fell away from themboth like tawdry ornaments, for which there was no use in that sadplace. Soul to soul, unseparated by even the flimsiest veil ofconventionality, of custom; soul to soul, clear-visioned, steadfast, asthose may be who are quietly watching the approach of death, they lookedinto each other's eyes and knew that they were alone, he and she, against the world. To cleave to one another, to stand together, he andshe, against the whole world, --that was what their betrothal meant. Axel, cut off for ever from his kind if he should not be able to clearhimself, Anna, cutting herself off for ever to follow him. Her feet hadfound the right path at last. Her eyes were open. As two friends on theeve of a battle in which both must fight and whose end may be death, oras two friends starting on a long journey, whose end too, after tortuousways of suffering, may well be death, they quietly made their plans, talked over what was best to be done, gravely encouraging each other, always with the light of perfect trustfulness in their eyes. How strongthey felt together! How able to go fearlessly towards the future to meetany pain, any sorrow, together! The warder standing by, the miserablelittle room, the wretched details of the situation, no longer existedfor either of them. Nothing could harm them, nothing could hurt them anymore, if only they might be together. They were safe within a circledrawn round them by love--safe, and warm, and blest. So long as he hadher and she him, though they saw how great their misery would be if theycame to be less brave, they could not but believe in the benevolence ofthe future, they could not but have hope. If he were sentenced, shesaid, what, at the worst, would it mean? Two years', three years', waiting, and then together for the rest of their life. Was not thatworth looking forward to? Would not that take away every sting? sheasked, her hands on his shoulders, her face beautiful with confidenceand courage. When he told her that she ought not now to cast in her lotwith his, she only smiled, and laid her cheek against his sleeve. Allher childish follies, and incertitudes, and false starts were done withnow. Life had grown suddenly simple. It was to be a cleaving to him tilldeath. Yet they both knew that when that golden hour was over, and shemust go, the suffering would begin again. She was only to come twice aweek; and the days between would be days of torture. And when the momenthad come, and they had said good-bye with brave eyes, each telling theother that so short a separation was nothing, that they did not mind it, that it would be over before they had had time to feel it, and the doorwas shut, and he was left behind, she went out to find misery again, waiting for her there where she had left it, taking entire possession ofher, brooding heavily, immovably over her, a desolation of misery thatthreatened by its dreadful weight to break her heart. 

A sense of physical cold crept over her as she drove home withLetty--the bodily expression of the unutterable forlornness within. Awayfrom him, how weak she was, how unable to be brave. Would Lettyunderstand? Would she say some kind word, some little word, something, anything, that might make her feel less terribly alone? With many pausesand falterings she told her the story, looking at her with eyes torturedby the thought of him waiting so patiently there till she should comeagain. Letty was awestruck, as much by the profound grief of Anna's faceas by the revelation. She knew of course that Axel had beenarrested--did anyone at Kleinwalde talk of anything else all daylong?--but she had not dreamt of this. She could find nothing to say, and put out her hand timidly and laid it on Anna's. "I am so cold, " wasall Anna said, her head drooping; and she did not speak again. 

As they passed between his fields, by his open gate, through the villagethat belonged, all of it, to him, she shut her eyes. She could not lookat the happy summer fields, at the placid faces, knowing him where hewas. Not the poorest of his servants, not a ragged child rolling in thedust, not a wretched, half-starved dog sunning itself in a doorway, whose lot was not blessed compared to his. The haymakers were piling uphis hay on the waggons. Girls in white sun-bonnets, with bare arms andlegs, stood on the top of the loads catching the fragrant stuff as themen tossed it up. Their figures were sharply outlined against the serenesky; their shouts and laughter floated across the fields. Freedom tocome and go at will in God's liberal sunlight--just that--how preciousit was, how unspeakably precious it was. Of all God's gifts, surely themost precious. And how ordinary, how universal. Only for Axel there wasnone. 

When they reached the house, the hall seemed to be full of people. Thesupper bell had lately rung, and the inmates, talking and laughing, weregoing into the dining-room. Dellwig, his hands full of papers, nothaving found Anna at home, was in the act of making elaborate farewellbows to the assembled ladies. After the two silent hours of sufferingthat lay between herself and Axel, how strange it was, this noisy bustleof daily life. She caught fragments of what they were saying, fragmentsof the usual prattle, the same nothings that they said every day, accompanied by the same vague laughs. How strange it was, and how awful, the tremendousness of life, the nearness of death, the absoluterelentlessness of suffering, and all the prattle. 

"_Um Gottes Willen!_" shrieked Frau von Treumann, when she caught sightof this white image of grief set suddenly in their midst. "It hassmashed up, then, your bank?" And she made a hasty movement towards thehall table, on which lay a letter for Anna from Karlchen, containing, asshe knew, an offer of marriage. 

Anna turned with a blind sort of movement, and stretched out her handfor Letty, drawing her to her side, instinctively seeking any comfort, any support; and she stood a moment clinging to her, gazing at thelittle crowd with sombre, unseeing eyes. 

"What has happened, Anna?" asked the princess uneasily. 

"You must congratulate me, " said Anna slowly in German, her head heldvery high, her face of a deathly whiteness. 

A lightening look of comprehension flashed into Dellwig's eyes; hescarcely needed to hear the words that came next. 

"Herr von Lohm and I were to-day, " she said. Then she looked round atthem with a vague, piteous look, and put her hand up to her throat. "Weshall be married--we shall be married--when--when it pleases God. "

CONCLUSION

The moral of this story, as Manske, wise after the event, pointed outwhen relating those parts of it that he knew on winter evenings to adear friend, plainly is that all females--_alle Weiber_--are bestmarried. "Their aspirations, " he said, "may be high enough to do creditto the noblest male spirit; indeed, our gracious lady's aspirations werenobility itself. But the flesh of females is very weak. It cannot standalone. It cannot realise the aspirations formed by its own spirit. Itrequires constant guidance. It is an excellent material, but it is onlymaterial in the raw. "

"What?" cried his wife. 

"Peace, woman. I say it is only material in the raw. And it is never ofany practical use till the hand of the master has moulded it intoshape. "

"_Sehr richtig_, " agreed the friend; with the more heartiness that hewas conscious of a wife at home who had successfully withstood mouldingduring a married life of twenty years. 

"That, " said Manske, "is the most obvious moral. But there is yetanother. "

"The story is full of them, " said the friend, who had had them allpointed out to him, different ones each time, during those evenings ofhowling tempests and indoor peace--the perfect peace of pipes, hotstoves, and _Glühwein_. 

"The other, " said Manske, "is, that it is very sinful for little girlsto write love-poetry in the name of their aunts. "

"To write love-poetry is at no time the function of little girls, " saidthe friend. 

"Such conduct cannot be too strongly censured, " said Manske. "But to doit in the name of someone else is not only not _mädchenhaft_, it issinful. "

"These English little girls appear to know no shame, " said his wife. 

"Truly they might learn much from our own female youth, " said thefriend. 

Letty's poems had undoubtedly been the indirect cause of the fire, ofAxel's arrest, and of his marriage with Anna. But if they had broughtabout Anna's happiness, a happiness more complete and perfect than anyof which she had dreamed, they had also brought about Klutz's ruin. ForKlutz, shattered in nerves, weak of will, overcome by the state of hisconscience and the possible terrors of the next world, with the blood ofthree generations of pastors in his veins, every drop of which cried outto him day and night to save his soul at least, whatever became of hisbody, Klutz had confessed. He was only twenty, he knew himself to bereally harmless, he had never had any intentions worse than foolish, andhere he was, ruined. The act had been an act of temporary madness; andinfluenced by Dellwig, he had saved his skin afterwards as best hecould. Now there was the price to pay, the heavy price, so tremendouswhen compared to the smallness of the follies that had led him on stepby step. His bad genius, Dellwig, went free; and later on livedsufficiently far away from Kleinwalde to be greatly respected to the endof his days. Manske's eyes filled with tears when he came to the actionof Providence in this matter--the mysteriousness of it, the utterinscrutableness of it, letting the morally responsible go unpunished, and allowing the poor young vicar, handicapped from his very entranceinto the world by his weakness of character, to be overtaken on thethreshold of life by so terrific a fate. "Truly the ways of Providenceare past finding out, " said Manske, sorrowfully shaking his head. 

"I never did believe in Klutz, " said his wife, thinking of her applejelly. 

"Woman, kick not him who is down, " said her husband, turning on her withreproachful sternness. 

"Kick!" echoed his wife, tossing her head at this rebuke, administeredin the presence of the friend; "I am not, I hope, so unwomanly as tokick. "

"It is a figure of speech, " mildly explained the friend. 

"I like it not, " said Frau Manske gloomily. 

"Peace, " said her husband. 

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

Elizabeth and Her German Garden

 "What a captivating book it is--how merry and gentle and sunny, how whimsically wise and tender! There is real humor in these pages, and for that reason, if for no other, it deserves to live. The new chapter, describing the author's pious pilgrimage to the garden of her childhood, is inimitable in its way, and should not be missed by any admirer of this most winning Elizabeth. "--_New York Tribune. _

 "Elizabeth is pure sunshine and without a shadow, the reflection, as it were, of a quiet existence, and never a commonplace one; for, without knowing it or suspecting it, she is an idealist. Elizabeth never tires, for has she not her husband, her little ones, and her books to talk about? These passages, as found in 'Elizabeth' in the quiet history of a woman's life, act as useful tonics or are the necessary sedatives in our somewhat fevered existence. "--_New York Times. _

The Solitary Summer

 "'The Solitary Summer' affords a generous harvest of beautiful and poetic thoughts, together with some keen observations of life, all of which are expressed in a graceful and supple prose. . . . It is a privilege to have stood for a time upon the veranda steps and to have caught a glimpse of that sane refuge. "--_Chicago Tribune. _

 "Full of sunshine and fresh breezes, riotous with the bloom and fragrance of flowers, spicy with the damp cool breath of pines. . . . The quaint, whimsical fancies of a cultivated, lovable woman create a golden atmosphere through which we see her life, and we dream with her on her bench in her garden, in the fields where the yellow lupins grow, and in the mossy deeps of the pine forest. We feel we have made another friend, one who sees life with gentle, smiling eyes and from a deliciously humorous point of view. "--_Recreation. _

 "A garden of absorbing interest to its owner, a library full of books to comfort rainy days, a hamlet of German peasants, three delightful babies, and a 'man of wrath' who by no means merits the title, --these are the simple elements from which a bright woman, too cosmopolitan to be thought wholly German, as she calls herself, has evolved a charming little book. "--_The Nation. _

 "She has a depth of feeling, a sense of humor, and an impetuous and ardent manner that make her chronicles thoroughly alive. Beside this lovable book other feminine essays on nature, literature, and life seem only tame and artificial performances. "--_New York Tribune. _

The April Baby's Book of Tunes

WITH THE STORY OF HOW THEY CAME TO BE WRITTEN

Illustrated by KATE GREENAWAY

A running commentary in the quaintly humorous style characteristic ofthe writer, describes the teaching of a dozen or more popular nurserysongs to the author's three little maids, the April, May, and June Babyrespectively. The music for each is given, and charming illustrations incolor complete an unusually attractive holiday book. 

Full of the sayings of three of the most delightfully amusing andoriginal children in the book world--the June Baby who loudly sings "TheKing of Love My Shepherd is, " swinging her kitten around by its tail toemphasize the rhythm, --the loving little May Baby who says, "Directlyyou comes home, the fun begins, " sitting very close to her mother, --andthe quaint April Baby, concerning whom there are fears that she may turnout a genius and thus disgrace her parents, Elizabeth and "The Man ofWrath. "

Readers of the charming companion volumes whose authorship has been thesubject of so much recent discussion will delight in this little sequel, which will make a most appropriate gift during the coming season to manya mother of little ones who has had at some time to meet the problem ofhow the babies can be saved from corners when there are no lessons, andstorms have forbidden exercise for them and their nurses, too. Itspictures of a German nursery and the delicious discussions of thesetoddlers over the various songs are extremely bright and entertaining, and most aptly supplemented by Kate Greenaway's quaint and daintilycolored illustrations, of which there are sixteen, besides decorativedesigns, chapter headings, etc.