A Sister's Love Part 39

"Susanna's eyes flamed up for a moment. 'Why did he not come in here?'

she asked. She raised herself a little. 'Ah! aunt,' she whispered, 'I think I am going to be ill. I have a constant irritation in my throat, and I feel so wretchedly. Dr. Reuter said last week I ought not to spend the severe winter here. Ah! and yet I cannot bring myself to decide to go away.'

"'I can feel with you, my dear child,' I returned. 'I would not go either, in your place.'

"Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. 'Yes, it is all the same if I die _here_!' she replied.

"'Oh, don't believe any such thing, Susy,' I said jestingly. 'You must live for your child; you are exhausted by all this dreadful affair; the winter will soon be over.'

"At this juncture Anna Maria entered. 'How are you feeling, Susanna?'

she asked kindly.

"'I am ill,' sobbed the young wife; 'very ill! I shall stifle yet in these overheated rooms; I have not your sound lungs.'

"Anna Maria looked down at her in astonishment. 'I am very sorry for that,' she said sympathetically.

"Oh, if Klaus were only alive, he would have gone south with me long ago!' cried Susanna; and Isa shook her head doubtfully.

"That was Anna Maria's weak spot. 'Dear Susanna,' she said tenderly, 'if it is necessary, then go. I know that you are delicate, that you have a cough; let us consult with the doctor to-morrow, and decide where. And then we will pack you both up and----'

"'Both?' asked Susanna. 'That is just it; I cannot take the baby with me!'

"'And you cannot make up your mind to part from him?' Anna Maria asked hesitatingly.

"'No, no!' sobbed Susanna.

"'I suppose,' said the maiden softly, the bright blood mounting to her cheeks, 'you will not intrust him to me'--she hesitated--'even if I promise to watch over him day and night?'

"Susanna stopped sobbing. 'But why not, then?' she cried. 'He is Klaus's child, and you are so fond of him!'

"Anna Maria turned and went out of the room, and Susanna sprang up and followed her. After a while they came back, and for the first time there was a smile on the lips of each. Susanna would fly away out of the desolate, snowed-in house of mourning, and Anna Maria had one more care.

She might fondle and care for the child of her only brother to her heart's content; the child to whom she had only ventured timidly, in order not to excite Susanna's jealousy, should now belong to her alone for a long time.

"And Susanna went away with chests and trunks, and with Isa. She was overcome with pain at the parting from her child; at the last moment she wanted to tear off hat and cloak again and stay here. However, she got into the carriage. That she would not be here at Christmas did not disturb her; it would be no festival this year, she thought, it would only make her sadder. The doctor had really advised her going south.

"And so we were alone in the solitary house--Anna Maria, the child, and I. The child's cradle stood in her room; she would lie for hours before it, and could not look her fill at the round, childish face. She could still weep, weep bitterly, for Klaus; but her grief had grown gentler, much gentler.

"On a stormy evening, a few days after Susanna's departure, Sturmer came to speak with Anna Maria. He had not been here for more than a week.

"Brockelmann showed him at once to Anna Maria's room; we had not heard him come, and she was right on her knees before the cradle, talking to the child, so simply and affectionately, so sweetly and naturally, about the Christ-child and the Christmas-man. All the great, overflowing love of which the girl was capable, an infinite tenderness and gentleness, sounded in the tone of her voice. But Anna Maria had no heart--how often had the man said that, who was now standing still at the door and looking at her as in a dream.

"She sprang up in confusion as she caught sight of him; the old proud, impenetrable expression returned to her face at once.

"'It is so lonely over there,' he said apologetically, 'and then I had to bring you the mortgage from the mill; the old crow has begged so hard, Fraulein Anna Maria, I think we will leave it to him, or, if you prefer, I will take it too.'

"She shook her head. 'Oh, never,' she said calmly; 'the money must stay at the mill; Klaus promised it to the man.'

"He was still holding his hat in his hand. 'May I stay here half an hour?' he asked.

"'If our sad society is not too tiresome for you, Sturmer,' replied Anna Maria. 'You give us a pleasure.' Then she suddenly turned and went out of the room.

"'Now tell me, for Heaven's sake, Aunt Rosamond,' asked Sturmer, 'what is the matter now? Why do we sit here, and where is Frau von Hegewitz?

Have the two fallen out again, perhaps?'

"'Susanna? Ah! you may not know yet, to be sure,' I replied. 'Susanna went away to Nice three days ago; she had a cough, and feared the winter.'

"He sprang up impulsively, and began to walk up and down the room; then he stood before the cradle, and looked at the slumbering child. 'And this young Frau has gone _alone_?' he asked at length.

"'No, Edwin, with Isa.'

"'Of course,' he said. He began his walking to and fro again, till Anna Maria came in, followed by the child's nurse, who carried the little sleeper into the next room. Then we sat silent about the table. It was almost as in the old days, with the old furniture from the sitting-room, and ticking of the clock under the mirror. Anna Maria had brought out her spinning-wheel, and Edwin Sturmer looked at the floor, and, lost in thought, played with a ta.s.sel of the table-cloth.

"Then all at once he started up; the clear sound of children's voices came in from the hall:

"'Martins, martins, pretty things, With your little golden wings,'

echoed the old Martinmas ditty.

"'To-day is Martinmas,' said I. Edwin Sturmer looked at me. It was a strange look; what did he mean? And all at once Anna Maria--the proud, heartless Anna Maria--threw her hands over her face, and bitterly weeping, went out.

"'What is that, Edwin?' I asked; and, as he did not answer, I tapped him on the shoulder with my wooden knitting-needle. And the strong man rose too, stood at the window, and looked out without replying a word.

"'Little summer, little summer, rose-leaf, Village and city, Give us something, O maiden fair!'

died away the old song."

CHAPTER XX.

"The winter pa.s.sed quietly away, and with the spring, just as the trees were blossoming, Susanna came back. Anna Maria had sent the best carriage to meet the home-comer, and put a little white dress on the child. The table was set in a festal manner in the dining-room, and at Susanna's place was a bunch of splendid white roses. I went to the front steps to meet the young wife. Sturmer, who happened to have come over, remained with Anna Maria in the salon; she had the child in her arms.

"Susanna jumped down from the carriage, fresh and rosy, and fell on my neck. 'Here I am again, dearest aunt, here I am again!' she cried. 'How have you been, and how is my dear little boy?' She flew up the steps like a bird, so that all the lace and flounces of her elegant mourning dress stood out and blew behind her. Like a child she ran through the hall; I could scarcely keep up with her; then she stood in the salon.

"The baby had grown; the baby sat there quite sensibly already, on the arm of his fair aunt; his bright curly hair fell about his lovely baby face, and he was just grasping after Uncle Sturmer's watch. The young mother rushed to the child with a cry of delight, pulled it into her arms, and covered it with kisses. But the young gentleman misunderstood this; he did not know the strange lady at all who had come in so suddenly, and with a pitiful cry he stretched out his arms toward Anna Maria.

"Susanna was confounded, and then began to weep, affectingly and bitterly: 'She had lost her child's love!' It was a painful scene.

Sturmer went into the next room, and Anna Maria tried to console Susanna. 'It is only because he is not accustomed to you; he has not seen you for so long, Susanna. Just hear what he has learned,' she begged.

"And going up to the weeping woman, she said: 'Ma--ma!'

"'Mamma!' stammered the little fellow, quite consoled.

"Susanna laughed, and promised to change her dress quickly; then she came to the table. The grief was already overcome; and she showed herself, in course of time, none too eager to regain the child's love.

Anna Maria silently retained all the cares she had undertaken; but sometimes the young wife would embrace her child in a sudden outbreak of tenderness, and not let him out of her arms for hours.

"The summer did not flit away so quietly as it had begun; there were frequent visitors, and sometimes Susanna's laugh would echo, terribly clear, through the rooms. Anna Maria was sad; she fled to her room whenever a carriage full of guests arrived, or a pair of saddle-horses were led slowly up and down before the house. But Sturmer was now a daily guest; it really pained me when I saw him ride across the court.