Edelweiss Part 14

"Well? what would you know?" There was a warmth, a tenderness, in the simple words that brought the hot blood to his face.

"I cannot tell," he stammered. "If you do not know, I cannot tell you.

I am--Annele--"

"Children, what are you about? The whole room is looking at you," broke in the landlady. "I can perfectly trust you, Lenz; if you have anything so very special to say to Annele, I will have a lamp lighted in the private sitting-room, and you can have your talk out there."

"Oh no, mother," cried Annele, trembling; but the landlady was already gone. Annele flew after her. Lenz sat motionless, while the whole room swam before his eyes. He got up at length, stole out, saw the door of the sitting-room open, and was alone with Annele. She hid her face.

"Look at me," he entreated; "look at me while I speak to you. Annele, I am but a foolish, simple fellow; but--" he pressed his hand to his heart, hardly able to go on--"but if you think me worth it, you can make me happy."

"You are worth more than the whole world; you are too good; you do not know how bad the world is."

"The world is not bad, for you are in it. Answer me; answer me truly: Will you stand by me? will you help me to be industrious and good? will you be mother, wife, all to me? Say yes, and my whole life shall be yours."

"Yes, a thousand and a thousand times yes!" She fell upon his breast, and he held her fast.

"Mother, O my mother!" cried Lenz, as the landlady appeared. "Dear landlady, forgive me!" he added, apologetically.

"You have nothing to fear from me," returned the landlady. "But, children, I must beg one thing. Annele can tell you I have always been a good friend to you. 'Lenz must prosper,' I have always said, 'for his mother's blessing rests upon him.' But I pray you, children, to act with caution. You do not know my husband. He so worships his children that he is angry with every man that tries to take them from him. Thank G.o.d, we shall keep one near us, if it be his will. They will not all grow to be such strangers." Here the landlady wept bitterly, but after a vigorous wiping of her eyes and nose was able to continue. "For the present my husband must observe nothing. I will break the matter to him first, and let you know, Lenz, when you may regularly lay your suit before him. Till that time you must not enter the house. Bring your uncle with you to the betrothal. It will be showing him no more than proper respect to allow him to take your father's place. All my other daughters were received into large families with all the ceremony that is observed in the highest circles. G.o.d gave me no son, Lenz, and I rejoice that I am to find one in you. I am fond of my other sons-in-law, but they are too fine, too aristocratic for me. It is time now for you to go, Lenz. My husband may come any minute, and I would not answer for the consequences. Yet no; stop a moment. Take this. Give him this, Annele." She opened both doors of the great linen-press, and took out a gold coin. "Your G.o.dfather, our blessed minister, laid this in your cradle. It is an old medal, just the thing for you to give Lenz. But you must give her a present first."

"I have nothing to give. Oh yes, here is my watch, Annele. My dear father made it himself in Switzerland, and gave it to my mother. When we are married, please G.o.d, I will give you something else of my mother's that will please you. Here, take the watch. It has lain next my heart. Would I could take out my heart, and lay it in your faithful hand!"

They exchanged pledges. "Very good," explained the mother, who thought it her duty to say something. "A heart and a watch; they resemble one another, and love is the key that winds them up." She smiled at her own cleverness, since no one else did. "See," she continued, after rummaging in the chest, "this was the first little frock my Annele wore, and these were her shoes." Lenz looked with rapture at these mementos of her childhood, and begged permission to keep them, which was granted. "Now you must really go, Lenz," said the landlady, returning to her old theme. "I cannot let you stay. Go this way through the kitchen. There is my hand. Good night, Lenz!"

"May not Annele go a little way with me?"

"By no means. Don't be offended if I am somewhat strict. I have brought up three daughters, and take pride in the thought that no word of blame has ever rested on either of them. G.o.d willing, you can have enough of each other by and by, in all honor and with the parents' knowledge."

"Good night, Lenz!"

"Good night, Annele!"

"Once more, good night!"

"Good night, my heart's treasure!"

"Good night, dear Lenz! pleasant dreams!"

"The same to you a thousand-fold!"

"That will do, that will do!" admonished the landlady, laughing.

Lenz stood in the street. The whole world turned round with him. The stars in heaven danced. Annele--Annele of the Lion--was his! He hurried homewards; he must tell Franzl, who always praised Annele so warmly.

How she will rejoice! If I could only shout it out from house to house!

He checked himself, however, when he had almost reached his door. He must not tell Franzl; nothing was certain yet, and she could not keep a secret. But he must tell some one. He retraced his steps, and remained long standing before the Lion. To-night he must stand a stranger there; to-morrow he would be one of the family. He tore himself away at last, and went in search of Pilgrim.

CHAPTER XVII.

A FRIEND'S WARNING.

Thank G.o.d, he is at home! there is a light in his room. He is playing the guitar. O dear good Pilgrim!

May heaven keep me in my senses, and let me not die of joy! Oh, if my good mother had but lived to see this day!

Pilgrim was playing and singing so loud as not to hear him as he ascended the stairs. Lenz threw open the door, and, spreading out his arms, exclaimed, "Rejoice with me, brother; I am so happy!"

"What is the matter?"

"I am betrothed."

"You are? To whom?"

"How can you ask? to her, to the truest heart in all the world, and as wise and bright as the day. O Annele!"

"What! Annele? Annele of the Lion?"

"You wonder at her taking me, do you not? I know I am not worthy of her, but I will deserve her. G.o.d is my witness, I will deserve her. I will devote my life to her; she shall--"

His eyes fell upon his mother's picture. "Mother, dearest mother!" he cried, "in thy place in the seventh heaven rejoice, for thy son is happy!"

He fell upon his knees, and tears choked his voice. Pilgrim laid his hand on his shoulder. "Forgive me, dear Pilgrim,--forgive me," prayed Lenz, rising; "would I could beg the whole world's forgiveness! I have often resolved to be a stronger, firmer man. Now I shall have a wife who deserves a manly husband. But this once I must give way. I have been wishing, as I came here, that some hard task might be imposed upon me,--no matter what, only something, something so difficult it would take my whole heart and strength;--I would do it; I would prove myself worthy of the happiness G.o.d has granted me."

"Hush, hush! other men have got other women before now. There is no need to tear the world to pieces about it."

"If my mother had but lived to know this!"

"If your mother had lived, Annele would not have had you. It is only because you are without enc.u.mbrances, without a mother, that she cares for you."

"Say not that, Pilgrim! she so reveres my mother!"

"It is easy to revere her when she is no longer here. I tell you, you were nothing to Annele till your mother died."

"You have not even wished me happiness."

"I wish you happiness! I wish you all happiness!"

"Why do you say it twice? Tell me why twice?"

"Only because the words came out so."

"No, you had a meaning in them."

"True, I had. I will tell you to-morrow, not to-night."

"Why to-morrow? tell me now; you shall not hide anything from me."