A Sister's Love Part 21

"And hour after hour pa.s.sed, the bell became silent, after long pauses, and Anna Maria did not come. Brockelmann said the fire-light had disappeared. I heard the carriages and people returning home; then the court was quiet. And then Brockelmann came in again: 'It broke out in the second house from the forge, the lads say, and the forge is half-burned, too.' Oh, Heaven, and Anna Maria does not come!

"The old woman sat down by my bed. 'She does not think of herself,' she complained; 'she will run into the burning house if it is possible. Ah, if the master were only here!' Good Brockelmann, she knew better than Sturmer how to judge Anna Maria.

"'Fraulein,' she whispered, already following another train of thought, 'do you know--but you must not take it amiss--the baron comes so often now, and as I saw them both drive out of the yard to-day, then--I keep thinking she will marry him yet.'

"'Oh, how can you talk such nonsense?" said I, chiding these words in vexation.

"'Yet, I say, the next thing will be a wedding in the house!' declared the old woman. 'The great myrtle down-stairs is full of buds, and I also found a bridal rose in the garden. And last New Year's eve I listened at the door and heard the young master just saying: "Invite to the wedding!" And that will all come true. And then--but you must not act as if you knew it--I have had Anna Maria in my arms from the day she was born, and know her as no one else does, and I know how she cried over the note that the baron wrote her at the time when he went far away into the world, and, Fraulein, she always has it with her! Oh, I see so much that I am not intended to see; but she cannot dissemble, Anna Maria.'

"Ah! what the old woman was saying was of no importance to me; only news of Susanna; everything else later! 'My G.o.d, Susanna,' I murmured, 'if anything has happened to her!' And unable to stay quietly in bed any longer, I bade Brockelmann help me dress. At last a carriage rolled in at the gate and stopped before the house. I sat up in bed, and kept my eyes on the door. Susanna _must_ come! Brockelmann had hurried down-stairs; I heard Anna Maria's voice on the stairs, and her footsteps, and then she came in.

"'For G.o.d's sake, where is Susanna?' I cried to her.

"'With her old nurse, who has been made really ill from fright,' she said quietly, and sank exhausted into the chair by my bed.

"'But, Anna Maria,' I wailed, 'the forge is burned down!'

"'They are at the castle,' she replied, gently. 'Sturmer has given a shelter to all who were burned out.'

"'In the castle?' At the first moment the thought was quieting to me, but then my heart grew heavy. 'Oh, but that is impossible! How could you let Susanna accept the hospitality of an unmarried man? It is wrong of you; you are usually so observant of forms. You _ought_ to have brought her with you, and the old woman too!' I had spoken impetuously, in my anxiety. Anna Maria gave me a strange look.

"'Isa is so ill she was in no condition to make the journey hither,' she replied. 'But Susanna lies across her bed with torn hair and face bathed with tears; she is nearer to her than all of us, and at such a moment, aunt, one does not think of--etiquette.' I first noticed now how pale and exhausted Anna Maria looked. Her fair hair had fallen down, and one golden tress falling over the white forehead lay on her plain dark-green dress; her eyes were cast down and her lips quivered slightly.

"'Poor child!' I cried, seizing her hands. 'It has been too much, and here am I reproving you!'

"She let her hand remain in mine, but did not look up. 'I am quite well,' she replied; 'but it is painful--to behold human misery and not be able to help. It was fearful, aunt! And it has cost one human life--nearly two.' Her voice was strangely lifeless as she said this.

'An old man,' she continued, 'in the act of saving his cow from the burning stable, was buried beneath the falling building. Sturmer carried out his grand-daughter, who was trying to help him, unhurt--but it was at the very last moment--a falling beam injured his arm.'

"She had spoken in s.n.a.t.c.hes, as if it were hard for her to breathe. And now the peculiar sobbing sound came from her breast; I knew that so well, for even as a child she had thus suppressed a burst of tears. I grasped her hands more firmly; she was feverishly hot, and her bosom heaved violently.

"'The splendid, warm-hearted man! Just the same to-day as he ever was!'

said I, gently. 'G.o.d be praised for having protected him!'

"Then we sat silent for a long time. The candles in front of the mirror had burned low, and flickering they struggled for existence; and the clock on the console ticked restlessly. I longed to beg the girl beside me: 'Anna Maria, confide in me; it is not yet too late! See, I know now that you love Sturmer--since to-day I am sure of it. Anna Maria, it is not yet too late!' But how could I do it? She had never given me the slightest right, never allowed me to share in what moved her heart. Oh, that she would come of her own accord, then, and speak, that she might know how much easier it is for two to bear a burden.

"I pressed her hand, beseechingly. 'Anna Maria, my dear child!' I whispered. Then she roused herself as out of a confused dream, and pushed the hair from her forehead.

"'Susanna?' she asked; 'Susanna got off with a fright. I led her over to the castle myself, and Sturmer's old servant carried Isa; they are safe.

As soon as the old woman can be moved I shall have her brought here, of course; to-day it was impossible. The excitement might be bad for Susanna, too, for such a pa.s.sionate outburst of grief I never dreamed of. She loves the old creature more than I ever mistrusted, and her cry: "Isa, Isa, if you die I have no one else in the world!" was repeated till she broke down from exhaustion.'

"I listened as if stunned. 'Anna Maria,' I said, 'I must go over to-morrow.'

"She nodded. 'If it is possible--for I should be glad to avoid it."

"'It must be possible, Anna Maria. Go and rest, we are both tired; sleep well.'

"Wall, there I lay, and no sleep came to my eyes. Klaus and Susanna, Anna Maria and Sturmer, revolved in wildest confusion in my brain. I started up out of my dozing, for I thought I heard Susanna's voice: 'Isa, Isa, if you die I have no one else in the world!' And I dreamed that I cried in anger to her: 'Ungrateful one, have you not more than a thousand others--have you not the heart of the best and truest of men?'

And I awoke again with a cry, for I had seen Sturmer hurry into the burning house, and seen it fall on him; and Anna Maria stood by, pale and calm, with disordered locks of fair hair over her white forehead; her eyes looked fixedly and gloomily on that ruin, but she could neither weep nor speak."

CHAPTER XII.

"It was a fearful night! I was almost astonished to see the bright sunshine streaming in my window, and the blue sky, the next morning.

Brockelmann helped me dress, for my shoulder was still painful.

"Some trouble oppressed the old woman; it was always to be observed that when anything weighed on her heart she used to smooth her hands over the hem of her ap.r.o.n, and therewith take aim at the person on whom she had designs. For a little while I watched it to-day, but when, after tying my shoes, she remained sitting on the deal floor, stroking her dazzlingly white ap.r.o.n, and seeking for a way to begin her speech, evidently a difficulty to her, I said: 'Well, speak out, Brockelmann; what is it?'

"But instead of an answer she threw her ap.r.o.n over her face and began to weep bitterly.

"'Do write, gracious Fraulein, for the master to come back soon, or things will not go right in my life-time with Anna Maria,' she sobbed.

'It eats into my heart like a worm that he went away without a good-by.

She says nothing, but, Fraulein, I have known her ever since she was born; I know her as well as I do myself. She stays for hours in the master's room, and when she comes out her eyes are red with weeping, and then it is always: "Brockelmann, the master would certainly do this so, and wish that so," and "When the master is here," or "When the master comes," is the third word with her. When Christian brings the mail she runs out into the court to meet him, and the first time the master wrote I was just going through the room, as she read the letter. She did not see me, but I saw how the letter trembled in her hands, and then she said to herself: "He is different from what he used to be; it is past!"

And then she got up and went into the garden, and I looked after her and watched her as I used to when she was yet a wild thing with long braids.

And then she walked up and down by the spot where her mother lies buried, up and down, up and down, oh! certainly for an hour. It was nothing to her that it rained, and that the wind blew her half to pieces. At last I went out there and asked her something about the housekeeping; I could not see it any longer. Then she came in with me.

But last night, when she came back from the fire, when I had brought her a gla.s.s of mulled wine, she looked so wretched. When I knew she was in her own room I took it to her--I did not wish to disturb her here. But listen, Fraulein Rosamond, when I went in there Anna Maria had just been crying, crying as if her heart would break. She did not see me; she had laid her head on the table, and on Herr Klaus's picture, and her whole body shook and trembled. Then I closed the door again softly, for, believe me, it would have been dreadful to her to have had any one see that she was crying. Indeed, she does not like it if anybody cries aloud. But to-day I could not rest. Only write, Fraulein; when the master is here all will be well again!'

"'Ah, good old Brockelmann, if that would settle it! Yes, Klaus would come, but it would never be again as it used to be, never again!'

"The old woman took my silence for acquiescence. 'And, Fraulein,' she continued, drying her eyes, 'I know perfectly well since when things have been different. If I had had the power I would have said to Christian at the time when the coach came driving into the yard with the theatrical people: "Turn around, for Heaven's sake, Christian; these are birds which are not suited to this nest!" But, good heavens, some of us are silent, and see and hear! The master is so kind-hearted, Fraulein, so kind-hearted; G.o.d grant that it may remain kind-heartedness! I could have fretted myself to death when it was rumored in the servants' hall, and in the village, that the Ma'm'selle who had snowed down was not unpleasing to the master. In Rieke, it has gone to a blockhead; she was not bad, but what is the use--the talk is once out--if Fraulein Anna Maria only doesn't hear of it, although it is nothing but lies,' she continued, after a short pause, and looked at me confidently, 'for the master could have the fairest and best any day, and doesn't need to wait upon such a vagabond thing, yet it would make the Fraulein ill if she were to hear of it.'

"'So the servants are already talking about it,' said I softly, when the old woman had gone. 'And they are not far from the truth! Brockelmann, too, only sings so loud because she has fears, and she wanted to know what I thought of it. But Anna Maria will not believe, Anna Maria has other troubles.'

"As I went down to get into the carriage which was to carry me to Dambitz, Anna Maria was just coming out of Klaus's room. She was quiet and friendly as usual; there was no sign of yesterday's tumult. She asked how I had slept, and said she had just come in from the fields.

'The harvest is a blessing of G.o.d this year,' she added; 'look at the crops as you drive past the rye-fields. How pleased Klaus will be!' And as I was sitting in the carriage, she put a little parcel into my hand: 'Give that to Sturmer for the burned-out people, will you, please? Klaus will approve.' She was blushing crimson. 'It is out of the milk-fund; you know that is my own!'

"Touched, I nodded to her, and then the carriage rolled away with me, in the misty autumn morning. What a refreshing odor came from the pine-forests; a golden mist hung over the distant heath, and the sky seemed higher and bluer than I had seen it for a long time. And yet it seemed as if I were breathing the heavy air before a thunder-storm the nearer I came to Dambitz and the shaded manor-house. We drove past the burned houses; the charred beams and timbers were still smoking, and thin columns of smoke circled up from the ruins; a loathsome odor lay about the unfortunate spot, but human hands were already at work again.

The blacksmith's shop was half demolished, the gabled wall was warped by the heat of the fire, and the blacksmith's young wife was bravely rummaging among her household goods, which had been thrown, _nolens volens_, into the street, a promiscuous heap of beds, clothing, and furniture. A little woman was sitting on a chest, weeping bitterly; it was her husband who had met with the fatal accident last night, the coachman told me. A young girl of perhaps sixteen was hunting about the half-burned and partially wet rubbish; her eyes were swollen with weeping.

"'You poor people,' thought I; 'no one can give you back what has been taken from you, but we will help to replace the earthly property.' And I looked at the small but heavy roll in my hand; it was a not insignificant sum in gold. Well for him who can give, and gives gladly and lovingly!

"We now drove along by the park wall; the great gate of skilfully wrought iron stood open; the luxuriant foliage of the beautiful park here parted, and let the eye roam over velvety green lawns and broad flower-beds to the white, castle-like buildings. Awnings protected the terrace from the sun's rays, and a black and white flag waved gayly in the morning wind. A delicious freshness lay over the garden; not a yellow leaf was yet to be seen on the broad gravel-walk; everywhere most painstaking neatness.

"I called to the coachman to stop, and had myself lifted out of the carriage, so as to walk through the park. I do not know myself how the idea came into my head. How long it was since I had been here! I was then still a girl; my sister-in-law was by my side, and Klaus and Edwin, wild lads, rushing about us. I felt very strangely; there was still the little bridge of tree-trunks, the ingeniously planned moat, which always used to be dry; to-day water was splashing in it. The trees had grown taller, the shrubbery more luxuriant, and a marble Diana stood out against the green of the taxus-hedge. Sturmer's taste for the beautiful struck me at every step. At home no one thought of marble statues and English turf; at home the wish had never yet been spoken to see such jets of crystal water as those shooting up before the group of fine old elms; there was still the same old garden with its gnarled oaks, its primitive arbors, its flower-sprinkled gra.s.s-plots; but it was pleasant and home-like, as it is to-day.

"I followed a shady path which I knew would bring me to the side of the house, but all at once I stopped short. I could not be deceived; that was Susanna's ringing laugh, floating like the note of a nightingale through the shrubbery. Susanna in the garden and Susanna laughing? I walked on and went up on a little knoll surrounded by old lindens; in the middle was a Flora on a stone pedestal; monthly roses were blooming in the flower-beds, mingling their fragrance with that of the mignonette. At one side was a group of pretty garden furniture, and in one of the seats was Susanna, leaning back and looking with a smile of delight at the spray of roses which Sturmer had just offered her.

"He stood in front of her, his arm still in a sling, and looked down at her. She had evidently made her toilet with the greatest care; the time at Isa's sick-bed had not pa.s.sed unused, it seemed. She still wore a black dress, but her white neck gleamed beneath a quant.i.ty of delicate black lace, and filmy lace also fell over her arms; the fichu knotted below her bosom was held together by a pale rose, and there was also a rose in her hair; Susanna Mattoni looked charming in her half-Spanish costume. And yet if, with disorderly hair and careless toilet, and, instead of the lace, one of Anna Maria's ap.r.o.ns, I had found her at Isa's bed, could I have detected in her face a single sign of the fearful night before, I would have thrown my arms about the child and said: 'Come, Susanna, my little Susanna, your refuge is at Butze.' But now? But thus?

"My heart seemed almost paralyzed. In another moment I was standing by Susanna, and was able to say pleasantly that I had come to take her home.

"Sturmer drew my hand to his lips, much pleased, 'Ah! my dearest, best Aunt Rosamond, again at Dambitz at last," he cried. Susanna stood as if petrified by my unexpected appearance. 'Well, my child,' I said to her, as Sturmer, after pushing up a chair for me, went into the castle; 'how is your Isa? She is quite well again, is she?'

"Susanna shook her head. 'No,' she replied, 'Isa is still very weak.'

"'Who takes care of her then?' I asked, sharply.