The Home; Or, Life in Sweden Part 37

"Wilt thou be reasonable, coffee-pot, and not boil over like a simpleton, since thou hast to provide coffee for ladies!" said the a.s.sessor in jesting anger. "Here, Miss Leonore, are drops for the mother and Eva. Sister Louise, be so good as to take my whole storeroom in hand; and you, young sir," said he to Henrik, as he seized him suddenly by the arm, and gazed sharply into his face, "come you with me, for I must take you rather particularly in hand."

There was indeed not a moment to lose; a violent effusion of blood from the chest, placed the young man's life in momentary danger. Munter tore off his coat, and opened a vein at the very moment in which he lost all consciousness.

"What a silly fellow!" said the a.s.sessor, as Henrik breathed again, "how can anybody be so silly when he is such--a clever fellow! Nay, now all danger for the time is over. Death has been playing his jokes with us to-night! Now, like polite knights, let us be again in attendance on the ladies. Wait, I must just have a little water for my face, that I need not look, any more than is necessary, like 'the Knight of the Rueful Countenance!'"

CHAPTER VII.

THE CONSEQUENCES.

The sun of the next morning shone brightly on the glistening snow-covered roofs round the market-place, and dyed the smoke-clouds, which rose slowly from the ruins of the burnt-down house, with the most gorgeous tints of purple, gold, and sulphur-blue, whilst hundreds of little sparrows raked and picked about in the ashy flakes which were scattered over the snow in the market-place and churchyard, with exulting twitterings.

Mother and daughters looked with tearful eyes towards the smoking place where had so lately stood their dearly beloved home; but yet no one gave themselves up to sorrow. Eva alone wept much, but that from a cause of grief concealed in her own heart. She knew that Major R. had pa.s.sed the night in the city, and yet for all that--she had not seen him!

With the morning came much bustle, and a crowd of people into the dwelling of the a.s.sessor. Families came who offered to the roofless household both shelter and entertainment; young girls came with their clothes; servants came with theirs for the servants of the family; elegant services and furniture were sent in; the baker left great baskets full of bread; the brewer, beer; another sent wine, and so on.

It was a scene in social life of the most beautiful description, and which showed how greatly esteemed and beloved the Franks were.

Mrs. Gunilla came so good and zealous, ready to contend with anybody who would contend with her, to convey her old friends in her carriage to the dwelling which she had prepared for them in all haste. The a.s.sessor did not strive with her now, but saw in silence his guests depart, and with a tear in his eye looked after the carriage which conveyed Eva away from his house. It seemed now so dark and desolate to him.

On the evening of this same day the father returned into his family circle, and pressed them all to his breast with tears of joy. Yes, with tears of joy, for all were left to him!

A few days after this, he wrote thus to one of his friends:

"Till now, till after this unfortunate occurrence, I knew not how much I possessed in my wife and children; knew not that I had so many good friends and neighbours. I thank G.o.d, who has given me such a wife, such children, and such friends! These last have supplied, nay, over-supplied all the necessities of my family. I shall begin in spring to rebuild my house on the old foundation.

"How the fire was occasioned I know not, and do not trouble myself to discover. The misfortune has happened, and may serve as a warning for the future, and that is enough. My house has not become impoverished in love, even though it may be so in worldly goods, and that sustains and heals all. The Lord hath given and the Lord hath taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord!"

Probably the Judge would listen to no conjectures respecting the origin of the fire. We will venture, however, not the less on that account to give our conjectures;--thus, it is very probable that the fire had its origin in the chamber of the young Baron L., and that also he, in his scarcely half sober state, might have been the occasion of it. Probably he himself regarded the affair in this light; but this however is certain, that this event, in connexion with the behaviour of the Franks towards him, occasioned a great change in the temper and character of this young man. His father came for him shortly after this, and took him to consult a celebrated oculist in Copenhagen, in consequence of his eyes having suffered severely in the fire.

Our eyes will see him again, only at a much later period of our history.

The daughters of the house busied themselves earnestly with the already-spoken-of plans for discovering a means of independent subsistence for themselves, that they might lighten the anxieties of their parents in their present adverse circ.u.mstances, and that without being burdensome to anybody else. Eva wished at first to accept an invitation to a country-seat in the neighbourhood, not far from that where Major R. was at present. Axelholm opened itself, heart, arms, main-building and wings, for the members of the Frank family. There were wanting no opportunities for colonisation; but the Judge besought his children so earnestly to decline all these, and for the present to remain altogether.

"In a few months," said he, "perhaps in spring, you can do what you like; but now--let us remain together. It is needful to me to have you now all around me, in order to feel that I really possess you all. I cannot bear the thoughts of losing any one of you at present."

The thought of parting appeared likewise soon to weigh heavily upon him.

Henrik, since the night of the conflagration, had scarcely had a moment free from suffering; a violent, incessant beating of the heart had remained since then, and the pain of this was accompanied by dangerous attacks of spasms, which, notwithstanding all remedies, appeared rather to increase than otherwise. This disturbed the Judge so much the more, as now, more than ever, he loved and valued his son. Since the night of the fire it might be said that, for the first time, affection was warm between father and son.

The Mahomedan says beautifully, that when the angel of death approaches man, the shadow of his wings falls upon him from a distance. From the beginning of his illness Henrik's soul appeared to be darkened by unfriendly shadows, and the first serious outbreak of disease revealed itself in depression and gloom. Oh! it was not easy for the young man, richly gifted as he was with whatever could beautify life on earth, standing as he did at the commencement of a path where fresh laurels and the roses of love beckoned to him, it was not easy to turn his glance from a future like this, to listen to the words which night and day his beating heart whispered to him--"Thou wilt descend to thy grave! nor will I cease knocking till the door of the tomb opens to thee!"

But to a mind like Henrik's the step from darkness to light was not wide. There was that something in his soul which enables man to say to the Lord of life and death--

The dreaded judgment-doom in thine own hand is writ,-- We kiss it; bow our heads, and silently submit.

Henrik had one day a long conversation with his skilful and anxious physician Munter, who when he left him had tears in his eyes; but over Henrik's countenance, on the contrary, when he returned to his family, although he was paler than usual, was a peculiarly mild and solemn repose, which seemed to diffuse itself through his whole being. From this moment his temper of mind was changed. He was now mild and calm, yet at the same time more joyous and amiable than ever. His eyes had an indescribable clearness and beauty; the shadow had pa.s.sed away from his soul altogether.

But deeper and deeper lay the shadow over one person, who from the beginning of Henrik's illness was no longer like herself--and that was Henrik's mother. It is true that she worked and spoke as formerly, but a gnawing anguish lived in her; she appeared absent from the pa.s.sing business of life; and every occupation which had not reference, in some way or other, to her son, was indifferent or painful to her. The daughters kept carefully from her any thing which might be disturbing to her. She devoted herself almost exclusively to her son; and many hours full of rich enjoyment were spent by these two, who soon, perhaps--must separate for so long!

Every strong mental excitement was interdicted to Henrik; his very illness would not admit of it. He must renounce his beloved studies: but his living spirit, which could not sleep, refreshed itself at the youthful fountains of art. He occupied himself much with the works of a poet who, during his short life, had suffered much and sung much also, and from amid whose crown of thorns the loveliest "Lilies of Sharon" had blossomed. The works of Stagnelius[18] were his favourite reading. He himself composed many songs, and his mother sang them to him during the long winter evenings. According to his opinion, his mother sang better than his sisters; and he rejoiced himself in the pure strength which triumphantly exalted him in this poet above the anguish and fever of life.

It was observed that about this time he often turned the conversation, in the presence of his mother, to the brighter side of death. It seemed as if he wished to prepare her gradually for the possibly near separation, and to deprive it beforehand of its bitterness. Elise had formerly loved conversations of this kind; had loved whatever tended to diffuse light over the darker scenes of life: but now she always grew pale when the subject was introduced; uneasiness expressed itself in her eyes, and she endeavoured, with a kind of terror, to put an end to it.

One evening as the family, together with the a.s.sessor, were a.s.sembled in the confidential hour of twilight, they began to speak about dreams, and about the nature of sleep. Henrik mentioned the ancient comparison of sleep and death, which he said he considered less striking as regarded its unconsciousness than in its resemblance in the awaking.

"And in what do you especially consider this resemblance to consist?"

asked Leonore.

"In the perfect retention and re-animation of consciousness, of memory, of the whole condition of the soul," replied he, "which is experienced in the morning after the dark night."

"Good," said the a.s.sessor, "and possible; but what can we _know_ about it?"

"All that revelation has made known to us," replied Henrik, with an animated look: "do we really need any stronger light on this subject than that afforded us by one of our own race, who was dead, and yet rose again from the grave, and who exhibited himself after his sleep in the dark dwelling with precisely the same dispositions, the same friendships, and with the most perfect remembrance of the least as well as the greatest events of his earthly existence? What a clear, what a friendly light has not this circ.u.mstance diffused around the dark gates of the tomb! It has united the two worlds! it has thrown a bridge over the gloomy deep; it enables the drooping wanderer to approach it without horror; it enables him to say to his friends on the evening of life, 'Good night!' with the same calmness with which he can speak those words to them on the evening of the day."

An arm was thrown convulsively round Henrik, and the voice of his mother whispered, in a tone of despair, to him, "You must not leave us, Henrik!

you must not!" and with these words she sunk unconscious on his breast.

From this evening Henrik never again introduced in the presence of his mother a subject which was so painful to her. He sought rather to calm and cheer her, and his sisters helped him truly in the same work. They now had less desire than ever to leave home and to mingle in society generally; yet notwithstanding they did so occasionally, because their brother wished it, and it enabled them to have something to tell at home, which could entertain and enliven both him and his mother. These reports were generally made in Henrik's room, and how heartily did they not laugh there! Ah! in a cordially united family, care can hardly take firm footing there: if it come in for one moment, in the very next it will be chased away! Eva appeared during this time to forget her own trouble, that she also might be a flower in the garland of comfort and tenderness which was bound around the favourite of the family; the Judge too, tore himself more frequently than hitherto from his occupations, and united himself to the family circle.

A more attractive sick chamber than Henrik's can hardly be imagined.

That he himself felt. Enfeebled by the influence of disease, his beautiful eyes often became filled with tears from slight causes, and he would exclaim "I am happy--too happy! What a blessedness to be able to live! That is happiness! that is the summer of the soul! Even now, amid my sufferings, I feel myself made through you so rich, so happy!" and then he would stretch forth his hand to those of his mother or his sisters, and press them to his lips or his bosom.

An interval of amendment occurred in Henrik's illness, and he suffered much less. A sentiment of joy diffused itself through the house, and Henrik himself appeared at times to entertain hopes of life. He could now go out again and inhale the fresh winter air--his favourite air. The Judge often accompanied him; it was then beautiful to see the powerful vigorous father supporting with his arm the pale but handsome son, whenever his steps became weary; to see him curbing his own peculiarly hasty movements, and conducting him slowly homewards; it was beautiful to see the expression in the countenance of each.

People talk a great deal about the beauty of maternal love--paternal love has perhaps something yet more beautiful and affecting in it; and it is my opinion that he who has had the happiness of experiencing the careful culture of a loving, yet at the same time upright father, can, with fuller feeling and with more inward understanding than any other, lift his heart to heaven in that universal prayer of the human race, "Our Father which art in heaven!"

Several weeks pa.s.sed on. A lady, an intimate friend of the family, was about this time undertaking a journey with her daughter to the city where Petrea was visiting, and desired greatly to take Gabriele with her, who was the dearest friend of the young Amalie. Gabriele would very gladly have embraced this opportunity of visiting her beloved sister, and of seeing at the same time something of the world, but now when Henrik was ill, she could not think of it; she was quite resolved not to separate herself from him. But Henrik was zealously bent upon Gabriele making this journey, which would be so extremely agreeable to her.

"Don't you see," said he, "that Gabriele sits here and makes herself pale with looking at me? and that is so utterly unnecessary, especially now I am so much better, and when I certainly in a little time shall be quite well again. Journey, journey away, sweet Gabriele, I beseech you!

You shall cheer us in the mean time with your letters; and when at Easter you return with Petrea, then--then you will no longer have an ailing suffering brother; I will manage it so that I will be quite well by that time!"

She was talked to also on other sides, especially by the young, lively Amalie, and at length Gabriele permitted herself to be persuaded.

Convinced that for the present all danger for her brother was over, she commenced the journey with a jest on her lips, but with tears in her eyes.

It was the first flight of "our little lady" from home.

Not a word was heard from Major R.; and although Eva continued reserved towards her own family, she appeared to be so much calmer than formerly that they all began to be easy on her account. The Judge, who, in consequence of her behaviour evinced towards her a grateful tenderness, endeavoured to gratify her slightest wishes, and gave his consent that in the early commencement of spring she should go to M----s. He hoped that by that time the Major would be far removed from the country; but it was not long before a painful discovery was made.

On a dark evening at the beginning of March, two persons stood in deep but low discourse under a tree in St. Mary's churchyard.

"How childish you are, Eva!" said the one, "with your fears and your doubts! and how pusillanimous is your love. If you would learn, lovely angel! how true love speaks, listen to me:--

"Pourquoi fit on l'amour, si son pouvoir n'affronte, Et la vie et la mort, et la haine et la honte!

Je ne demande, je ne veux pas savoir Si rien a de ton coeur terni le pur miroir: Je t'aime! tu le sais! Que l'importe tout le reste?"