The Lost Manuscript: A Novel

"Will you not come in, at least for a moment, as you know my godmother?"

"With pleasure," replied the Doctor.

Her godmother was sitting in her summer cottage, which was somewhat smaller, damper, and less pleasant than her lodging in the town. When the children of the hostile houses entered together-first Laura, still pale and solemn, behind her the Doctor with an equally serious countenance-the good lady was so astonished that she sat staring on the sofa and could only bring out the words:

"What do I see? Is it possible? You two children together!"

This exclamation dispelled the magic which for a moment had bound the young souls to each other. Laura went coldly up to her godmother and related how the Doctor had accidently come up at the time of her distress. But the Doctor explained that he had only wished to bring the young lady safely to her; then he inquired after the health of the old lady and took his leave.

While her godmother was applying restoratives and determining that Laura should return home another way under the care of her maid-servant, the Doctor went back with light steps to the wood. His frame of mind was entirely changed and a smile frequently passed over his countenance. The thought was constantly recurring to him how the girl had rested in his arms. He had felt her bosom against his; her hair had touched his cheeks and he had gazed on her white neck. The worthy youth blushed at the thought and hastened his steps. In one thing at least the Professor was not wrong-a woman is, after all, very different from the ideal that a man derives from the study of human life and the history of the world. It certainly seemed to the Doctor now that there was something very attractive in wavy locks, rosy cheeks and a beautiful form. He admitted that this discovery was not new, but he had not hitherto felt its value with such distinctness. It had been so touching when she recovered from her swoon, opened her eyes and withdrew herself bashfully from his arms. Also his having defended her so valiantly filled him with cheerful pride. He stopped on the field of battle and laughed out right heartily. Then he went along the same road by which Laura had come from the wood. He looked along the ground as if he could discover the traces of her little feet upon the gravel, and he enjoyed the brightness and warmth of the air, the alluring song of the birds, the fluttering of the dragon-flies, with as light a heart as his pretty neighbor had done shortly before. Then the recollection of his friend came across him. He thought, with satisfaction, of the agitations of the Professor's mind and the commotion which Thusnelda had brought into it. The result had had a droll effect upon the Professor. His friend had been very comical in the pathos of his rising passion. Such a firm, earnest being contrasted curiously with the whimsical attacks which fate makes on the life of earth-born creatures. When he came to the last bush in which rustled one of the little grasshoppers, whose chirping he had often heard in times of anxiety, he spoke out gaily, "Even these have their turn, first the sheep, then the grasshoppers." He began singing half aloud a certain old song in which the grasshoppers were asked to go away and no longer to burden his spirit. Thus he returned home from his walk in right cheerful frame of mind, like a man of the world.

"Henry," began Mrs. Hummel, in the afternoon, solemnly to her husband, "compose yourself to listen to a terrible story. I conjure you to remain calm and avoid a scene, and take pains to overcome your aversion. And, above all, consider our feelings."

She then related to him the misfortune that had occurred.

"As to the dog," replied Mr. Hummel, emphatically, "it has not been clearly shown that it was our dog. The testimony of the shepherd does not satisfy me; I know this fellow and require an impartial witness. There are so many strange dogs running about the city nowadays that the safety of the community is endangered, and I have often said it is a disgrace to our police. But if it should be our dog, I cannot see anything particularly wrong about it. If the sheep stretched out its leg to him and he bit it a little, that is its own affair and there is nothing to be said about it. As to what further concerns the shepherd, I know his master-so that is my affair. Finally, with regard to the young man across the way that is your affair. I do not wish to visit on him the evil conduct of his parents, but I must say once for all that I will have nothing to do with the people opposite."

"I must call your attention to the fact, Mr. Hummel," interposed his wife, "that the Doctor has already paid money to the shepherd."

"Money for my child? That I will not tolerate," exclaimed Mr. Hummel. "How much did he pay?"

"But father-" said Laura imploringly.

"Can you expect," exclaimed Mrs. Hummel, reproachfully, "that your daughter, in danger of death, should count the groschens that her rescuer paid for her?"

"That's just like a woman," grumbled the master of the house; "you have no head for business. Can you not incidentally ask him? The shepherd I take upon myself, but shall not trouble myself about the Doctor. Only this I tell you. The affair must be shortly settled and our relations with that house must remain as before. All I ask is to go on smoothly. I intend to take no notice of these Hahns."

After this decision he left the ladies to their feelings.

"Your father is right," said Mrs. Hummel, "to leave the principal matter to us. With his harsh disposition thanks would come very ungraciously."

"Mother," said Laura, entreatingly, "you have more tact than I. Can you not go over there?"

"My child," answered Mrs. Hummel, clearing her throat, "that is not easy. This unfortunate occurrence of the dogs has left us women too much at variance. No, as you are the principal person now concerned, you must go over there yourself."

"I cannot visit the Doctor," exclaimed Laura alarmed.

"That is not necessary," said Mrs. Hummel, soothingly. "There is one advantage our neighborhood possesses-we are able to see from our windows when the men go out. You may then rush over to the mother and address your thanks for the son to her. You are very judicious, my child, and will know how to act."

Thereupon Laura took her seat at the window, not well pleased to sit as watcher upon her neighbors; this lying in wait was repugnant to her. At last the Doctor appeared on the threshold; he looked the same as usual; there was nothing chivalrous to be seen in him; his figure was slender and he was of middle height-Laura liked tall people. He had an intellectual countenance, but it was concealed by his large spectacles, which gave him a pedantic appearance; when he did smile his face became quite handsome, but his usual serious expression was not becoming to him. Fritz disappeared round the corner and Laura put on her hat with a heavy heart and went into the hostile house, which she had never yet entered. Dorchen, who was not in the secret, looked astonished at the visit, but with quick intuition connected it with the return of the Doctor and announced, of her own accord, that neither of the gentlemen were at home, but that Mrs. Hahn was in the garden.

Mrs. Hahn was sitting in the Chinese temple. Both women stood opposite each other with a feeling of embarrassment; both thought at the same time of their last conversation and to both the recollection was painful. But with Mrs. Hahn the danger to which Laura had been exposed at once overcame this natural nervousness. "Ah, you poor young lady!" she began, but while overflowing with compassion, with delicate tact she drew away from the Chinese building, feeling that it was not an appropriate place for this visit and invited her to sit on a little bench in front of the white Muse. This was the pleasantest spot about the house; here the orange tree smiled upon its donor, and Laura could bring herself into a grateful mood. She told her neighbor how deeply she felt indebted to the Doctor, and she begged her to say this to her son, because she herself in the confusion had not properly fulfilled this duty. She then entered into the necessary business about the bad shepherd. Good Mrs. Hahn was pleased with her thanks and in a motherly way begged Laura to take off her hat for a little while, as it was warm in the garden. But Laura did not take off her hat. She expressed in fitting terms her pleasure in the garden, said how beautifully it bloomed, and heard with satisfaction of the splendid orange tree which had been sent anonymously to Mr. Hahn, the fruit of which was sweet, for Mr. Hahn had celebrated the return of his son by an artistic drink, for which he had taken the first fruit of the little tree.

It was altogether a diplomatic visit, not extended unnecessarily; and Laura was glad when, on departing, she had repeated her compliments and thanks to the Doctor.

In Laura's secret record, also, the events of this day were very shortly disposed of. Even an observation she had begun on the happiness of the lonely dwellers in the wood remained unfinished. How was it, Laura? – you, who write down everything; who, when an insect or a sparrow hops in at the window, burst forth into verse! Here was an event influencing your whole life-danger, unconsciousness in the arms of a stranger, who, in spite of his learned aspect, is a handsome youth! This would be the time to depict and indulge in fancy dreams. Capricious girl, why does this adventure lie like a dead stone in the fantastic landscape that surrounds thee? Is it with thee as with the traveler, who, weary of the Alpine scenery, looks below him and wonders that this marvelous nature so little impresses him, till gradually, but perhaps not for years, the scenes pursue him, waking or dreaming, and draw him anew to the mountains? Or has the nearness of the wicked animal who occasioned the outrage impeded the flight of your soaring wings? There he lies before your threshold, red and ragged, licking his lips.

CHAPTER XII.

THE DEPARTURE FROM THE ESTATE

Autumn had come. The trees about the house had assumed their colored dress of decay. White webs hung over the stubble, and the dew drops lay upon them till the wind tore the woven fabrics away and bore them from field and valley into the blue distance. A happy pair went hand in hand about the place. This year the fall of the leaf did not affect the Professor, for a new spring had begun in his life; and his happiness was written in his countenance in characters which might be read by the most unlearned.

Ilse was betrothed. Modestly she bore the invisible crown which, according to the opinion of the household and neighborhood, now encircled her head. There were still hours in which she could scarcely believe in her happiness. When she rose early from her bed, and heard the trailing of the plough, or when she stood in the dairy amidst the clattering of the milk pails, her future appeared like a dream. But in the evening, when she was sitting near her beloved one, listening to his words and conversing on subjects serious and trifling, she would lay her hand gently on his arm in order to assure herself that he belonged to her, and that she was thenceforth to enter into the life in which his spirit moved.

The marriage was to take place before the winter, and before the lectures began at the University. For the Professor had petitioned against a long engagement and the father had yielded.

"I would gladly have kept Ilse with me over the winter. Clara must assume a portion of her duties, and the guidance of her sister would have been a great help to her. But it is better for you that it should be otherwise. You, my son, have sought the hand of my daughter after a short acquaintance, and the sooner Ilse accustoms herself to the life of the city, the better it will be for you both; and I think it would be easier for her in the winter."

It was a time of happy excitement, and the necessity of providing for the new household brought down the feelings of the betrothed from their state of exaltation to earthly things.

The Professor made a journey to the University. He went first to his friend.

"Wish me joy," he exclaimed; "have confidence in her and me."

The Doctor embraced him and never left his side during his stay. He accompanied him in all his shopping expeditions and assisted him in the arrangement of the rooms. Gabriel, who, from the visit of the country gentleman, had anticipated coming events, and who had become doubtful of his own indispensability, felt proud when the Professor said to him:

"Between you and me things are to remain as they were. Do your best to make yourself useful to my wife."

Then came Mr. Hummel. In the name of the family he extended his congratulations, and of his own accord offered the use of two rooms in his house which he himself did not occupy. But Laura was more anxious than all the rest about the new inmate. She burst forth in verse thus:

"How will she be, of sweet or lofty mien?Proud, dignified, or charmingly serene?My heart beats fast and thoughts in chaos seem!Will fond anticipations prove a dream?"

When the Professor begged of her and her mother to receive his future wife with friendliness and help her in her arrangements, and when he added to Laura that he hoped she would be on a friendly footing with his bride, he did not guess how much happiness he had given that young heart, which felt an unquiet longing to attach itself devotedly to some one. The indefinite descriptions which he gave concerning the character of his intended made a very vague impression which to Laura became a frame in which she daily depicted new faces.

Meanwhile the women were occupied in the old house preparing Ilse's outfit. The approaching marriage of her sister had transformed Clara into a young lady; she helped and gave good advice, and in everything showed herself clever and practical. Ilse spoke of this in terms of praise one evening to her father and then threw her arms around his neck and burst into tears. The father's mouth quivered; he did not answer, but he held his daughter close to his heart. It fortunately happened that the last weeks before their separation were full of work and distraction. There was yet much to be done in the household and the father would not permit the betrothed couple to omit a single visit to his acquaintances in the neighborhood.

One of the first was to the family of Rollmaus. Ilse in a special letter had informed Mrs. Rollmaus of her betrothal; and this had created great excitement. Mrs. Rollmaus burst forth into a stream of triumph; but Mr. Rollmaus saddled his horse and rode to Bielstein, but not to the house. He inquired for the Proprietor at the gate of the court-yard and rode to meet him in the field. There he took him aside and began his congratulations with this short question:

"What is he worth?"

The question was answered numerically, and he seemed satisfied. For he turned his horse round, trotted up to the house and extended his congratulations to Ilse and her betrothed, whom he now looked upon as her equal, and this time he pressingly repeated his invitation to call. After his return, he said to his wife:

"I could have wished a better match for Ilse, but the man is not so bad after all."

"Rollmaus," replied the wife, "I hope you will behave properly on this occasion."

"What do you mean?" asked the Crown Inspector.

"You must propose the health of the betrothed couple at dinner, when they come."

The husband muttered a suppressed growl. "But I'll have none of your oratorical trash and sentiment; I will have nothing to do with that."

"The eloquence must be in the introduction," said Mrs. Rollmaus; "and if you will not do it, I will undertake it myself. You may merely propose the health."

The house of Rollmaus displayed its finest table linen and dinner service for the visit, and Mrs. Rollmaus showed not only a good heart but good cooking. After the first course she clinked her glass and began excitedly:

"Dear Ilse, as Mr. Rollmaus in proposing your health will express himself shortly and laconically, I take the occasion to mention beforehand that as old friends of your parents, we wish you joy from the bottom of our hearts. And as we have lived together as good neighbors, sympathizing both in misfortune and when there was an agreeable addition to the family, and as we have often rendered each other mutual assistance in household matters, it is very sad for us to think that you are going to leave our country. Yet we rejoice that you are going to a city where intellect and higher aims are appreciated. I will not be voluminous, therefore I beg of you both to remember us with true friendship."

She put her handkerchief to her eyes and Mr. Rollmaus expressed the family feeling generally, in four words:

"Health to the couple."

At departing Mrs. Rollmaus wept a little and begged the Proprietor to permit them to be at the marriage, though no other guests were to be present.

There was to be still another distraction. The Sovereign wished to stop on the way to his hunting castle and take breakfast in the old house.

"It is well. Ilse, that you are with us," said her father.

"But one does not know at all what such a person is accustomed to," rejoined Ilse, between pleasure and anxiety.

"His own cook will come over from the Forester's house; he will help. Only see to it that he finds something in the kitchen."

It was a day of busy preparation, and the children, the housekeeper and the workwomen sat among heaps of branches and autumn flowers, twining wreaths and garlands.

"Spare nothing," said Ilse to the old gardener; "he is the beloved father of our country. We, his children, bring him our flowers as a tribute."

Hans, with the help of the Professor, arranged immense emblems and monograms of dahlias.

The evening before the hunt the purveyor and cook, with their attendants, arrived. The purveyor begged leave to set the table in the garden. "The Sovereign will be accompanied by the necessary servants; the rest of the waiting may be done by the waiting-maids of the house. Country customs please his Highness."

On the morning of the chase the Proprietor rode in his best clothes to Rossau to receive the Sovereign, and the children thronged round the windows of the upper story, spying along the highway like bandits. Shortly before midday the carriage came up the hill and stopped at the door of the house. The Proprietor and Forester, who were riding on each side of the royal carriage, dismounted. The Sovereign descended with his suite, greeting them as he crossed the threshold. He was of advanced age and middle height; had a small delicate face, from which could be seen that in youth he had been considered a handsome man, with two intelligent eyes, beneath which were many small wrinkles. Ilse entered the hall and the Proprietor introduced his daughter in his simple way. The Sovereign greeted Ilse graciously with a few sentences and favored the Professor, who was presented to him as bridegroom of the daughter, with some attention; whereupon the Professor was invited by the master of the hounds to join the party at breakfast. The Sovereign stepped into the garden directly, praised the house and the landscape and recollected having been here with his father as a boy of fourteen.

Breakfast passed off admirably. The Sovereign asked questions of the Proprietor, that evinced a great interest in the condition of the country. When they arose from the table, he approached the Professor, asked various particular questions about the University, and knew the names of several of his colleagues. The answers and general demeanor of the Scholar induced him to prolong the conversation. He told him that he himself was somewhat of a collector. He had brought ancient coins and other antiques from Italy and any increase in his collection gave him much pleasure. And he was pleased to find that the Professor was already acquainted with several of the more important ones.

When the Sovereign, in conclusion, asked the Professor, whether he belonged to this country, Felix answered that accident had brought him there. It suddenly occurred to him that this was an opportunity, which might never recur, of making known to the highest power in the country the fate of the lost manuscript, and thereby, perhaps, gaining an order for further research in the residence. He began his account. The Sovereign listened with evident excitement. While cross-questioning him about it, he drew him further from the company and seemed so entirely engrossed in the affair as to forget the hunting. The master of the hounds, at least, looked at his watch often and spoke to the Proprietor of the interest, which the Sovereign seemed to take in his son-in-law. At last his Highness closed the conversation: -

"I thank you for your communication. I value the confidence which you have shown me. If I can be of any use to you in this matter apply directly to me; and should you happen to come into my neighborhood, let me know. It would give me pleasure to see you again."

When the Sovereign passed through the hall to the carriage he stopped and looked round. The master of the hounds gave the Proprietor a hint. Ilse was called and again made her obeisance, and the Sovereign in a few words thanked her for her hospitable reception. Before the carriage had disappeared from the farm-buildings the Sovereign again looked back to the house, and this civility was fully appreciated.

"He turned quite round," said one of the laborer's wives, who had placed herself with the working people near the evergreen arch by the barns.

All were contented and rejoiced in the graciousness and civility which had been given and received in good part. Ilse praised the Sovereign's attendants, who had made everything so easy; and the judicious questions of the ruler had pleased the Professor much. When the Proprietor returned in the evening, he related how well the chase had gone off, and that the Sovereign had spoken most kindly to him and had wished him joy of his son-in-law before everybody.

The last day that the maiden was to pass in her father's house came. She went with her sister Clara down to the village, stood by the window of the poor Lazarus, stopped at every house and committed the poor and sick to the care of her sister. Then she sat a long time with the Pastor in his study. The old man held his dear child by the hand and would not let her go. On departing, he gave her the old Bible which his wife had used.

"I meant to take it with me to my last abode," he said, "but it will be better preserved in your hands."

When Ilse returned she seated herself in her room and the maids and workwomen of the house entered one after another. She took leave of each of them separately and spoke to them once more of what each had most at heart, gave comfort and good advice, and a small keepsake from her little store. In the evening she sat between her father and lover. The tutor had taught the children some verses; Clara brought the bridal wreath, and the little brother appeared as a guardian angel; but when he began his speech he burst out sobbing, concealed his head in Ilse's lap and would not be comforted.

When at bed-time they had all left. Ilse for the last time sat in her chair in the sitting room. When her father prepared to retire, she handed him a candle. The father put it down and paced up and down without speaking. At last he began:

"Your room, Ilse, shall remain unchanged. Should you return to us you shall find it as you left it. No one can replace you here. No one can be what you have been to your brothers, sisters, and to your father. I give you up with sorrow to enter upon a life which is unknown to us both. Good night, my beloved child. Heaven's blessing upon you. God guard your noble heart. Be brave. Ilse, for life is full of trials."

He drew her to him and she wept quietly on his breast.

The following day the morning sun shone through the windows of the old wooden church upon the place before the altar. Again Ilse's head was surrounded by a heavenly radiance and the countenance of the man into whose hand the old pastor laid that of his favorite beamed with happiness. The children of the house and the workwomen of the farm strewed flowers. Ilse, with her wreath and veil, stepped over the last flowers of the garden, looking heavenward. From the arms of her father and sisters, amid the loudly expressed blessings of Mrs. Rollmaus and the gently-murmured prayer of the old Pastor, her husband helped her into the carriage. Another hurrah from the people, one more glance at the old home, and Ilse pressed the hand of her husband and clung closely to him.