Seed-time and Harvest Part 32

"So, Jochen, now stoop over,--with your head against the tree."

Jochen would have spoken, but Brasig pushed down his head.

"Keep still, Jochen,--put your head against the tree!" and with that he clambered up on Jochen's back. "So I now stand up! Sure enough, I can just reach,"--and he caught the lowest boughs, and pulled himself up into the tree. Jochen had said nothing as yet, but now he broke out:

"Brasig, they are not ripe yet."

"Blockhead!" cried Brasig, looking, with his red face among the green leaves, like a gay basket hung on the branches, "do you think I expect to pick Rhenish cherries on St. John's day? But you must go away now, and not stand there looking at me, like a dog that has treed a cat."

"Yes, what shall I do about it?" said Jochen, and left Brasig to his destiny.

Brasig had not long to watch, before he heard a light, quick, step on the gravel-walk, and Lining seated herself in the arbor, with a great heap of needle-work. If she meant to do all that to-day, she should have begun immediately; but she laid it on the table, rested her head on her hand, and, looking out into the blue heaven through Brasig's cherry-tree, sat in deep thought. "Ah, how happy I am!" said the little, thankful soul, "my Mining is good to me again, and Gottlieb is good to me, else why did he keep touching my foot at dinner? and how Brasig looked at me! I believe I turned quite red. Ah, what a good old fellow Gottlieb is! How seriously and learnedly he talks, how steady he is, the minister is clearly written on his face! He is not handsome, to be sure, Rudolph is much better looking, but he has something peculiar about him, as if he were ever saying, don't come near me with your pitiable, lamentable nonsense, I have higher thoughts, I am spiritually minded. But I will cut his hair for him, by and by."

It is a merciful providence that the little maidens are not all taken with a fine exterior, else we ugly fellows would be obliged to remain bachelors, and it would be a sad company, for what can be uglier than an ugly old bachelor?

In Lining's closing reflection--that she would cut Gottlieb's hair shorter--was implied such a confident hope, that she blushed to think of it, and, as she heard the gravel creak under slow, dignified steps, she seized her needle-work and begun to sew diligently.

Gottlieb came with his book, and seated himself about three feet from her, and began to read, but often looked off from his book as if he were turning over in his mind what he had just read, or perhaps something else. It is always so with the Pietist candidates, that is, when they have found their right calling, and sincerely believe what they preach to the people; before their examination they have none but spiritual thoughts, but after their examination worldly matters claim their share of attention, and instead of thinking of a parish they think first of a marriage. It was so with Gottlieb, and because, since his examination, no other girls had come in his way but Lining and Mining, and Lining had paid much closer attention to his admonitions than her light-hearted sister, he had happened upon the worldly thought of making her a pastor's wife. He was not very expert at the business, labouring, indeed, under great embarra.s.sment, and had as yet gone no further than treading on her feet, a proceeding which he was quite as bashful in attempting, as Lining in receiving. He had decided, however, to open the matter in proper style, so he said, "Lining, I have brought this book out really on your account. Will you listen to some of it?"

"Yes," said Lining.

"It will be a tedious story," said Brasig to himself. He did not lie on a bed of roses, up in the cherry-tree.

Gottlieb read an edifying discourse upon Christian marriage, how it should be thought of, and with what feelings entered into, and when he had finished, he moved a step nearer, and asked:

"What do you say to it, Lining?

"It is certainly very beautiful," said she.

"Marriage?" asked Gottlieb.

"Oh, Gottlieb!" said Lining, and bent lower over her needlework.

"No, Lining," said Gottlieb, moving up another step, "it is _not_ beautiful. G.o.d bless you for it, that you have not placed a light estimate upon this important act of human life. It is terribly hard, that is in a Christian sense," and he gave her a fearful description of the heavy duties and troubles and cares of married life, as if he were preparing her for a residence at the House of Correction, while Brasig, up in the cherry-tree, crossed himself, and thanked his stars that he had not entered on that sad estate. "Yes, Lining," said he, "marriage is a part of the curse, with which G.o.d drove our first parents out of Paradise," and he took his Bible, and read to the little girl the third chapter of the first book of Moses, till Lining trembled all over, and did not know where to go, for shame and distress.

"Infamous Jesuit!" exclaimed Brasig half aloud, "to distress the innocent child like that!" and he was almost ready to spring down from the tree, and Lining would almost have run away, only that the book out of which he was reading was the Bible, and what was in the Bible must be good; she covered her face with her hands, and cried bitterly. He was now full of spiritual zeal, and threw his arm about her, saying, "I spare thee not, in this solemn hour! Caroline Nussler, wilt thou, under these Christian conditions, be my Christian wedded wife?"

Ah, and Lining was in such a dreadful confusion, she could neither speak nor think, but only cry and cry.

Then resounded along the garden path, a merry song:

"Little fish in silver brook, Swimming off to a shady nook, Little gray fish Seeking a wife."

And Lining made a desperate effort, and started out of the arbor, spite of the Bible and Christian conditions, to meet Mining, who was coming out, with her sewing; and Gottlieb followed, with long, slow steps, and his face looked as wonder-stricken as that of the young preacher, when in the midst of his long sermon, the s.e.xton laid the church-door key on the pulpit, saying that when he had finished he might lock up, himself, for he was going to dinner. And he might well looked astonished, for, like the young preacher, he had done his best, and his church stood empty.

Mining was a little, inexperienced child, being the youngest, but she was sufficiently acute to perceive that something had happened, and to ask herself whether she would not cry under similar circ.u.mstances, and what sort of comfort would be necessary. She seated herself quietly, in the arbor, arranged her needle-work, and, reflecting upon her own unsettled circ.u.mstances, began to sigh a little, for want of anything else in particular to do.

"Preserve me!" said Brasig, in the tree, "now the little rogue has come, and my legs are perfectly numb, and the business is getting tedious."

But the business was not to be tedious long, for soon after Mining had seated herself, there appeared around the corner of the arbor a handsome, young fellow, with a fishing-rod over his shoulder, and a basket of fish suspended around his neck.

"This is good, Mining," cried he, "that I find you here. Of course you have had dinner long ago?"

"You may well think so, Rudolph," she replied, "it is just two o'clock."

"Aunt will certainly be very angry with me."

"You may be sure of that, she is so already, without your being late to dinner; but your own stomach will be the worst to you, for you have cared for it poorly, to-day."

"So much the better for yours, this evening. I could not come sooner, it was out of the question, with the fish biting so finely. I have been to the Black Pool today. Brasig will never let me go there, and I understand the reason; it is his private pantry when he cannot find fish elsewhere; the whole pond is full of tench, just look! See there, what splendid fellows!" and he opened his basket, and showed his treasures. "I have got ahead of old Brasig, this time!"

"Infamous rascal!" exclaimed Brasig, to himself, and his nose peered out between the leaves, like one of the pickled gherkins, which Frau Nussler was in the habit of putting up for the winter, in these same cherry-leaves. "Infamous rascal! he has been among my tench, then! May you keep the nose on your face! what fish the scamp has caught!"

"Give them to me, Rudolph," said Mining. "I will take them in, and bring you out something to eat."

"Oh, no! no! Never mind.

"But you must be hungry.

"Well, then, just a little something, Mining. A slice or two of bread and b.u.t.ter!"

Mining went, and Rudolph seated himself in the arbor.

He had a sort of easy indifference, as if he would let things come to him, but yet, when they touched him nearly, he would not fail to grapple with them. His figure was slender, and yet robust, and with the roguery in his brown eyes was mingled a spark of obstinacy, with which the little scar on his brown cheek harmonized so well, that one could safely infer he had not spent all his time in the study of dogmatic theology. "Yes," said he, as he sat there, "the fox must go to his own hole. I have beaten about the bush long enough; to be sure there has been time to spare, there was no hurry about settling matters until now; but, to-day, two things must be decided. To-day the old man is coming; well for me that mother does not come too, else I might find myself wanting in courage, at last. I am as fit for a parson as a donkey to play on the guitar, or Gottlieb for a colonel of cuira.s.siers.

If Brasig were only here, to-day, he would stand by me. But Mining! If I could get that settled first."

Just then, Mining came along, with a plate of bread and b.u.t.ter.

Rudolph sprang up: "Mining, what a good little thing you are!" and he threw his arm around her.

Mining pulled herself away; "Ah, let me be! What a naughty boy you are!

Mother is dreadfully angry with you."

"You mean on account of the sermon? Well, yes! It was a stupid trick."

"No," said Mining, earnestly, "it was a _wicked_ trick. It was making light of holy things."

"Oh, ho! Such candidates' sermons are not such holy things,--even when they come from our pious Gottlieb."

"But, Rudolph, in the _church_!"

"Ah, Mining, I acknowledge it was a stupid trick, I did not consider it beforehand; I only thought of the sheepish face Gottlieb would make, and that amused me so that I did the foolish thing. But let it go, Mining!" and he threw his arm about her again.

"No, let go!" said Mining, but did not push it away. "And the pastor said, if he should report the matter, you could never in your life get a parish."

"Let him report it then; I wish he would, and I should be out of the sc.r.a.pe once for all."