The German Pioneers Part 7

"No," answered Lambert. "But since we are here, it has appeared to me as though I should have set the matter forth more pressingly. So I also blame myself that I let Conrad go away this morning without first more fully ascertaining what he knows about the enemy. He is too careless to take to heart anything of that kind, I should use better judgment."

"Better judgment, but not less courage," said Catherine. "If I must believe that my coming has robbed you of your cool courage, how could I forgive myself for having come here with you? No, Lambert, you must not so wrong me. I will also learn to use the rifle like Ursul. Why do you laugh?"

"I cannot think of you and the good old lady together without laughing," said Lambert.

"Perhaps I shall also live to be old, and, it is to be hoped, good. I shall then take it amiss if mischievous young people laugh at me."

"You old!" said Lambert, shaking his head. "You old! This I can conceive as little as how this rivulet must begin if it would flow up these rocks!"

They now went on between the tree-trunks down to the creek, and were walking along the edge where, in the mud of the sh.o.r.e, bison and deer had impressed their deep trails. The stream did not run as smoothly here as on the level ground. Its course was obstructed, now by rocks covered with moss a hundred years old, now by an immense tree-trunk which had fallen diagonally across, and whose withered branches stretched down into the brown water. A little further up it had to make its way over rocks, over which it leapt in indescribable, foam-covered cascades. From where they both stood one could see a part of the fall, like the fluttering ends of a white garment. The roar was softened by the distance and accorded remarkably well with the sound of the morning wind in the majestic tree-tops. With this exception there was an oppressive stillness in the primitive forest, which the occasional flight of a flock of pigeons overhead, the hammering of the woodp.e.c.k.e.r, the cawing of crows, the chirping of a little bird high above in the branches, and the piping of a little squirrel, seemed to make only the stiller. Soft vaporous shadows filled the woods. But in the clear s.p.a.ce above the creek there was spread a golden twilight bewitchingly woven out of light and shadow. In this enchanting light how bright the beloved one appeared to her lover. He could not turn his eyes from her as he now sat near her feet in the moss. Her rich, dark hair which encircled her well-formed head like a crown; the beautiful, slanting brows, the long, silky eyelashes; the sweet face; the heavenly form--ah! all this, on the long journey, had made a deep impression; but now it seemed as if he had not known it before--as though he now saw for the first time that she was so beautiful, so wonderfully beautiful. Also her dark eyelashes were raised, and her glance wandered over the blue eyes which had never before seemed so deep and bright, turned back timidly, then looked again more keenly, and could no longer withdraw themselves; then out of their blue depths there came such wonderful flashes that her heart stood still, and suddenly again she felt it bounding and beating against the heart of the beloved man who held her infolded in his arms. Then they released each other. Each caught the other's hand. They sank again into each other's arms, exchanged warm kisses and promises, and laughed, and cried, and said they had loved each other from the moment in which they first saw each other, and would do so to the last.

Suddenly Catherine shrunk back. "Conrad!" she cried. "O, my G.o.d!

Lambert, what are we beginning?"

"What has happened, my darling?" asked Lambert, while he sought again to draw the beloved one to him.

"No, no," said Catherine, "this must first be arranged. O, why did I not tell you? But how could I speak of it before? Now indeed I must speak, even though it be too late."

Without hesitating and in a becoming manner she told Lambert what Conrad had said in the morning, and how strange his conduct, and how threatening his appearance had been. "I seem constantly to hear his laugh," said she at last. "Great G.o.d, there he is!"

She pointed with her trembling hand up the creek to the place where, between the dark underwood, the foam-streaks of the waterfall fluttered.

"Where?" asked Lambert.

"Conrad! I thought I saw him slipping away between the trunks of the trees."

Lambert shook his head.

"Then he would be there yet," said he. "It must have been a deer that wanted to go to the spring. Surely you are causelessly frightened. I can well believe that the youth finds my beautiful girl handsome, but love as I do, that he cannot. Hereafter he will be happy in seeing me happy."

"But now I surely have heard a human voice," cried Catherine.

"I, too, this time," said Lambert, "but it came from up the creek.

Hark!"

"He, holla, holla, he, ho!" it now sounded.

"That is Aunt Ursul," said Lambert. "How does she come now to be here?"

A dark shadow pa.s.sed over his face, which however at once disappeared as Catherine impressed a hearty kiss on his lips, and said: "Quick, Lambert; let us now go to meet your aunt. See that she observes nothing. Do you hear?"

"There she is already," said Lambert, half vexed, half laughing, as now a large person, whose clothes were an unusual mixture of women's and men's clothing, and who, carrying a rifle on her shoulder, pressing through the bushes, soon reached the pair.

CHAPTER VI

"So!" said Aunt Ursul. "There yon are, sir!"

She remained standing, took her rifle from her shoulder and looked with large, round eyes on those who were approaching, like a beast of prey on a coming victim.

"G.o.d bless you, aunt," said Lambert, extending his hand to his old friend in salutation. "It is long since we have seen each other."

"And it might have been longer had it depended on you, sir," replied Aunt Ursul. "But one must first visit his pinery. Relatives and friends come later. It is fortunate that Aunt Ursul knows her people, or she might have had to look long for you, sir."

She threw her gun with a powerful swing on her shoulder, turned short on the heel of her man's boots, and began to stride back over the road along the creek by which she had come. She had returned Lambert's salutation but slightly, and had not noticed Catherine at all.

"How did you learn that I am back?" asked Lambert.

"Not from you, sir," replied Aunt Ursul.

"How is uncle?"

"As usual."

"You have taken such good care of my things--"

"One must, when the men are wandering about the country."

"You well know, aunt, that I did not remain so long away for release from labor, nor entirely on my own account. Nor was my journey useless.

The business that took me to New York is so arranged that you and others will be satisfied."

"So!" said Ursul.

"And I have likewise brought with me for you a young female friend, whom you will love as she deserves, and whom you will receive kindly as you do all who need your help."

"So!" said Aunt Ursul.

The path was so narrow that two could not walk abreast. Ursul did not turn about, but Lambert now did so and observed that Catherine was quite pale, and that tears stood in her eyes. The sight cut him to the heart, as he had but a little before seen the beautiful face radiant with happiness. "Have good courage, my girl," said he softly. "She does not mean unkindly."

Catherine tried to smile through her tears, and bowed as if she would say: "Let it pa.s.s. Since you love me I can bear anything."

"Lambert!" called Ursul, who was vigorously walking on, "come here!"

"Only go," stammered Catherine; "but, for G.o.d's sake, tell her nothing.

I could not endure it."

The young man tore himself away with a powerful effort and followed Ursul Ditmar, whom he soon overtook.

"Come to my side," said Aunt Ursul; "the path is wide enough so you need no longer trot behind me."

Lambert did as his aunt desired. Aunt Ursul could not bear opposition, and Lambert had from his youth honored her as a second mother. However he could not refrain from saying with mild reproach, "You are very rough with the poor girl, aunt."

"So!" said the dame. "Do you think so? It is naturally very important for an old person like me to know what such a look into the world means. No, I may as well tell you what I think. You have done a foolish thing, sir, do you hear--a besotted, foolish thing in that at such a time you have burdened yourself with a woman. If, instead, you had brought half a dozen men, these we could indeed have used to better advantage."

"But, Aunt Ursul, first hear me--"