CHAPTER VIII.
TRANSPLANTED.
Roland, meanwhile, was living quietly at the commercial town, industrious and happy. He resided in the Banker's house, and made friends with the children of the latter, particularly with a younger son, who, just returning from the University, had laid aside his books, and entered immediately upon the banking business. But for Weidmann's youngest son he cherished a genuine youthful friendship, very unlike that artificial intimacy with the cadet, which had been forced upon him by others. They were incessantly busy during the day, which closed with a late dinner, after which they had a game in the billiard-room, or attended some concert or play, or, more frequently, read or studied quietly, each by himself.
Roland often sat in his room till late at night, teaching English to his young friends Weidmann and Fassbender.
He, too, had now become a teacher, and derived a singular pleasure from thus imparting something of himself, and not merely of his possessions,—a pleasure which was exalted into the purest joy by the bright and cordial nature of young Weidmann.
Wherever Roland appeared, he was the object, first of remark, afterwards of kindly attention. He thought often of his winter at the capital, and how different life had been there. Here he found a circle of commoners, understanding itself thoroughly, and not without pride in its own strength. All the officials at the counting-house were particularly friendly to Roland. His beauty, his confiding disposition, above all his hard fate, seemed to recommend him to their especial consideration. The Banker praised him for having mastered, in so short a time, the essentials of the business; for he could now compute the price of any public funds by means of the exchange lists, and had a good insight into book-keeping.
So passed several weeks, until the elder Weidmann arrived, and invited his son, the cashier Fassbender, and Roland to visit him.
Weidmann first saw his son and Fassbender alone, and learned from them that the younger tradesmen had discussed the subject of the slave-trade, and had even held a meeting, and formally debated the question, but disagreed in their final vote. They stood twelve against twelve; it having been strongly urged that a man might lawfully carry on this traffic, provided he were not personally engaged in it; especially since others would be sure to carry on the lucrative business if he were held back by scruples.
Weidmann looked grave.
Roland came. He was very animated, and re-assured by Weidmann's encouraging glance, he begged to be allowed to return to Mattenheim.
The Banker assented readily.
With expressions of genuine affection, they bade Roland good-by. First of all, he revisited Villa Eden with Herr Weidmann. He had left it a boy; he returned a mature man.
In a few days, Roland's effects were all packed, ready for a removal to Mattenheim.
Eric accompanied him thither, and Roland turned crimson, when, on entering his room—it was the same that Lilian had formerly occupied—Knopf handed him a note from the latter. She had expressly requested that it might not be given to Roland until he returned permanently to Mattenheim.
The next day, Eric went back to Villa Eden, and announced to Manna and his mother his own intention of removing to Mattenheim.
A strange conflict ensued in Manna's breast; but, as she made no allusion to it, Eric thought it right to respect her reserve.
The Major, to whom Eric confided his plan, complained that he, too, had got to build himself a new nest in his old age; for his brother, the Grand-master, whose wife had died, had become engaged, and was to be married again in the spring. Now, Fräulein Milch had no mind to be tolerated, and patronized by a young wife; and when his Masonic brother, the Grand-master, had informed them that he should wish to reserve one of the rooms which the Major had formerly occupied, for a guest-chamber, Fräulein Milch had behaved in a most independent manner.
She thanked him, but declared her fixed determination to leave the house.
They had never had a quarrel before.
But when the Major perceived how sorrowfully Fräulein Milch repented her obstinate determination, he scolded himself for being too meek and yielding, and thanked the Fräulein for preserving her dignity as he ought to have done himself, but which he was so apt to lose sight of.
He proposed to Fräulein Milch the plan of removing to the castle, where there were fine rooms all in readiness, and where it must be very pleasant to live; but Fräulein Milch would hear nothing about living in a knightly castle. She set forth to the Major the bother it would entail: with the butcher, the baker, the grocer, the milkmaid, with all the various trades and callings, did she persecute the Major, until he was sore dismayed.
"We will say no more about it," he cried, "but pray don't let me forget to ask Captain Dournay how the old knights used to live."
Upon Eric's arrival, this had been the Major's opening question, and then, for the first time, he made known his own difficulty.
Eric did not regret it; for he hoped, that, in the spring, the Major would remove to the green cottage, while his mother would live with Manna at the Villa.
The Major laughed. "Did you ever hear," said he, "the story of the man who was a suitor forty years? Courting-time is very fine, I tell you; but even ten years is too long. And now away with you! There is something for you to learn yet. But don't tell a soul about that stale old suitor, will you? On your honor? He, too, was once young."
On the eve of his departure, when he and Manna were alone, Eric said,—
"Manna, we have no betrothal time. Our hearts are torn by sorrow and separation, we must comfort one another."
"And might I know why you, too, forsake me?"
"I shall be much with you and my mother; but I must be alone also. Just think, I have to become a new man, to change my scholarly vocation for some other, I know not what; but whether I am near you, or not, whether I hold your hand, and look into your eyes, or am far away, be sure that you are the inmost life of my heart: I bear you about with me like a blessed faith."
As Eric continued in this strain, a new and delightful understanding was established between the two, and Manna embraced him, saying,—
"I will not shed a tear to-morrow when you leave; and I will follow you in all your wanderings with trustful eyes. I know that I am with you and in you, as you are with me and in me. It seems inconceivable to me that I never knew you before that spring day. I cannot think what the world was like before I knew you; for I cannot imagine the world without you."
When Eric left for Mattenheim, the next day, he kissed his betrothed for the first time before his mother; and, after he had mounted his horse. Manna said to him,—
"I am glad you are going; and I will stay quietly with your mother, and be perfectly content. Thank you for letting me be a child once more before I become your wife. Ah! I had no childhood; but forgive me. I will never cease to be grateful for what has come to me, and I will not mingle sorrow with it all. And I promise that you shall have in me a strong and trustworthy wife."
So Eric departed.
Adams went with him. He, too, was to learn husbandry at Mattenheim.
The ladies were now alone with Professor Einsiedel and the Major, who was more at the Villa than ever.
The Villa itself, however, was silent and deserted; for they all lived at the green cottage. Many of the servants were dismissed, and the gardeners only were kept at the Villa.