Only a Girl Part 67

"You inherit her beauty, refined and enn.o.bled, and my way of thinking and feeling."

Gretchen nestled close to his side. "I would like to grow more like you every day."

"G.o.d forbid!" Leuthold thought to himself, in the full consciousness of what he was, as he turned to go back to the Inst.i.tute. If he could only have thus retraced his steps in the path of life!

The evening pa.s.sed more slowly than if he had been alone with Gretchen, although he was delighted by fresh proofs of her ability and progress.

He was especially surprised by her artistic talent,--her drawings and sketches in colour. She had not exaggerated when she wrote to him that she was as entirely fitted as a girl could be to earn her own livelihood. He was perfectly satisfied upon that point. And as he lay down to rest at night, a sense of relief filled his mind greater than any he had felt for a long time, and it soothed him to repose.

The next morning Gretchen heard, to her surprise, that her kind father desired to give her a glimpse of the ocean. He would wait until they were on board of the steamer, he thought, before he told her of his real plans. They took the early train for Hamburg, and arrived there towards evening. Leuthold thought it advisable to go directly to a large hotel, where an individual would not excite as much observation as in a smaller house. He selected one of the most splendid hotels in the gayest street in Hamburg.

Gretchen was enchanted with the sight of this northern Venice. The extensive basin of the Alster lay before them, framed in hundreds of bright lights, on its bank the brilliantly illuminated Alster Pavilion, while the rippling waves reflected the moon's rays in a long path of shining silver. Like pictures in a magic lantern, the gondolas glided hither and thither, and the fresh sea-breeze wafted the notes of gay music from the other side. The waves of the sea of light and of sound burst in harmony upon Gretchen's eyes and ears, and made her fairly giddy with delight. She could almost believe that the Nixies, scared away to their depths during the day by the pa.s.sing to and fro upon the waters of so much life and vivacity, were now beginning to sport there in the moonlight, playing around the skiff's and singing their enticing strains. And when she turned her eyes to the sh.o.r.e, bordered by palaces and crowded with restless throngs of pedestrians and gay equipages, presenting a scene of reality to counteract the dreamy impression produced by the expanse of water, the world seemed to the child a garden of enchantment, and her father the mighty magician reigning over it, who had brought her hither to enjoy its splendours. She threw her arms around him and kissed his hands, and could not thank him enough for giving her such new delight.

The carriage stopped at the entrance of the magnificent hotel, and the attendants came running to offer their services. The head-waiter stood in the doorway, ready to receive the new arrivals. Leuthold helped out Gretchen and handed over the baggage to a servant. As he ascended the steps, he glanced for the first time at the dignified and trim deputy of the host. He started, and the man too was evidently startled. Each seemed familiar to the other; one moment of reflection, and the recognition was mutual. Leuthold held fast by Gretchen, or he would have staggered. There stood the headwaiter of his father-in-law's inn,--Bertha's husband.

They exchanged a hostile glance of recognition. Then the man cried with a perfectly unconcerned air, "Louis, show Dr. Gleissert and his daughter to Nos. 42 and 43."

It seemed to Leuthold that the servant smiled at the mention of his name, and that he exchanged a significant glance with his chief. But this was probably only an illusion of his excited fancy. He hesitated whether it would not be better to go to another hotel. But that would look like flight,--he had been recognized, and, if the man chose to pursue him, he could follow him to any inn in Hamburg.

His enemy stood aside with a contemptuous obeisance, and Leuthold followed his guide up to the fourth story. "Have you no room in a lower story?" he asked.

"Very sorry, sir," replied the servant with a smile, "they are all occupied--you have a very good view here of the river."

Leuthold was silent. He seemed to have fallen into a trap. How had he come to choose in all this wide city the very house where dwelt his worst enemy? How did the fellow come here?

The servant Louis opened a charming room, looking out upon the water, and Gretchen could not suppress an exclamation of delight as she looked down from such a height upon all the beauty below them. It seemed like heaven to her. Louis lighted the candles, and awaited further orders.

"How long has Herr Meyer been head-waiter here?" Leuthold asked as if incidentally.

"For about a year," Louis replied, arranging his napkin upon his arm.

"He is a relative of the proprietor of this house, who, when his only son died, sent for Herr Meyer, that the business might not pa.s.s into strange hands."

"Indeed--then will Herr Meyer succeed him?"

"I believe so,--yes, sir."

Leuthold walked to and fro upon the soft carpet.

"Will you have supper, sir?"

"Yes."

"Will you go down to the dining-hall, sir?"

"No, I had rather not mount those four flights of stairs again. Bring our supper here, if you please."

"Very well, sir, I will get you the bill of fare instantly."

"Here--stop a moment----"

"What do you wish, sir?"

"Bring me up a couple of newspapers at the same time."

"Very well, sir."

As the door closed behind the man, Gretchen turned round from the window, where she had been standing with clasped hands. "Father," said she, "I am fairly dazzled with all that I see. I never was so happy in my life before. But, in the midst of it all, I never forget whom I have to thank for all this pleasure." And she knelt upon the carpet and laid her head upon the lap of her father, who had flung himself exhausted into a chair. "Do not you too, father, feel easy and free up here in the pure, clear air, with this lovely view of the shining water?"

"Oh, yes, dear child," said Leuthold, his breast filled the while with deadly forebodings.

Gretchen sprang up again, and took two or three deep breaths. "Oh," she cried, running to the window again, "it seems to me that I have been thirsty all my life, and am now drinking deep refreshing draughts in looking at those rolling waves." She leaned her fair forehead against the window-frame, and eagerly inhaled the fresh breeze that blew into the room from the Alster. "How happy those are who are at home upon two elements," she continued, "land and water! We, poor land-rats, must cling to the soil. Think of inhabiting all four of the elements, now working and walking upon the earth, then soaring aloft into the air, now floating dreamily upon the waves, or dancing in the ardent glow of fire,--would not that be glorious?"

"Then you would be man, fish, bird, and salamander all at once," said Leuthold, smiling in surprise at the girl's earnest tone. "Well, well, it might be all very delightful at sixteen, but a man as aged as your old father is thankful if he can live respectably upon the earth only."

"My old father!" laughed Gretchen, hastening to his side again--"you darling papa, how can you call yourself aged? Come with me to the window, the prospect there will make you twenty years younger." She drew him towards it. "It is very strange, I think, but certainly a new revelation of beauty should make the old younger, and the young older.

It is a new experience for the young, and experience always makes us mature. It is a memory for the old, for they are sure to have seen something of the kind in previous years, and it carries them back to the earlier and youthful sensations that it first awakened in them.

Such a memory should lighten the soul of ten years at least."

Leuthold looked at his daughter with unfeigned surprise. "Child, where did you learn all that?"

"Why, out of some book that I have read, I suppose," said Gretchen modestly. "One always remembers something, you know."

"Blessed be the day that gave you to me,--you are all that I have."

There was a knock at the door, and the servant entered with the bill of fare and the newspapers.

"Excuse me, sir, for keeping you waiting. I had to go to Madame for to-day's paper."

"No matter," said Leuthold, almost gaily. His talk with his daughter had done him good.

He ordered a little supper, and, when the man left the room, seated himself on a sofa and began to read.

Gretchen took her work,--she was just at the age when affection finds instant pleasure in embroidering or crocheting some article for the beloved object. So she sat and sewed diligently upon a letter-case that she was embroidering for her father while he read. Now and then she turned and looked out of the window, to be sure that all the splendour there had not vanished.

Suddenly she was startled by a profound sigh from her father, and, looking up, she saw him sitting pale as ashes, staring at the paper that had fallen from his hands. In an instant he sprang to his feet and walked up and down the room in mute despair.

"What is the matter, dear, dear father? what is it?" she asked in alarm, but, receiving no reply, she picked up the newspaper, to see if she could discover from it what had caused his agitation. She read un.o.bserved by him--he was leaning out of the window for air--read what seemed to her a strange tongue, to be deciphered only in her heart's blood. It was a telegraphic order from the magistrate of W----. "Dr.

Leuthold Gleissert, former Professor in Pr--, is charged with having appropriated, by means of forgery, and expended upon his own account, the property, amounting to upwards of ninety thousand thalers, of his ward Ernestine von Hartwich, of Hochstetten, and also of having robbed the mail. You are desired to arrest and detain him." A personal description of him followed, but Gretchen had read enough. "Father!"

she screamed, "father! father!" And, as if in these three words she had summed up all there was to say, she fell forward with her face upon the floor, as though never to raise it again.

There stood the guilty man, forced to behold his child crushed beneath the ruins of his shattered existence. He did not venture to touch the sacred form extended before him in anguish. He looked down upon her like one almost bereft of reason. G.o.d had visited his sin upon him, probing the only place in his heart sensitive to human feeling--his punishment lay in the sight of his child's agony without the power to relieve it.

Suddenly Gretchen raised her head and looked at him with those clear, conscious eyes whose gaze he had always endured with difficulty, and before which his own eyes now drooped instantly. "It is not true--it cannot be! Father, you are innocent--you cannot have done this thing!"

"For G.o.d's sake, Gretchen, do not speak so loud," Leuthold entreated.

"You tremble--you will not look at me. Father, if you have thus burdened your soul, I cannot be your judge--I will be your conscience.

I will not let you enjoy a single hour of rest or sleep until you have restored what does not belong to you. I will die of hunger before your eyes, rather than taste a morsel that is not honestly earned. But what am I saying? I am beside myself! It is not possible!--not possible!

Relieve me from my misery by one word. My soul is in darkness, cast one ray of light into it." She clasped his knees imploringly. "Father, swear to me that you are innocent----"