CHAPTER IV.
Meanwhile Gustave Sandow had mounted to the higher story, where were situated his brother's private apartments.
"I began to think you would not condescend to come at all," was the remark, delivered in his sharpest and most unpleasant tone, with which he greeted the dilatory Gustave.
"I was talking to Miss Clifford," replied Gustave, as if fully aware that that fact would completely justify him. "It was impossible to break off our interesting conversation sooner."
The allusion did not fail of its effect. The projected marriage was too important to Sandow, and his ward's disinclination to it, too well known to him, to allow him to throw the slightest hindrance in the way of his brother's courtship. He therefore replied more graciously--
"I suppose it was one of your usual altercations; you amuse yourselves with this continual wrangling; but I do not find that you make much progress with Jessie. She is more reserved than ever towards you."
"Frank, you cannot judge of my progress,", said Gustave, with an injured air. "It is considerable I assure you."
"We will hope so," replied Sandow, significantly, "and now to business. I want to talk to you of the affair, which I, and some business friends in New York contemplate taking in hand together. Jenkins tells me he has already spoken of it to you, and yesterday I gave you the correspondence to look over, so you must now be pretty well up in the subject."
"Decidedly I am."
Gustave had all at once become serious, and the answer rang quite differently from his usual cheerful, careless tone. Sandow took no notice of the change, but continued--
"You know we possess in the West large districts which are not yet settled. The purchase was to be made under extremely advantageous circumstances; but the extent of territory was so enormous that Jenkins was not able to complete it with his own means alone. He therefore applied to me and won me over to his views. We were fortunate in obtaining the land for a very moderate sum, and what now concerns us is to have it occupied advantageously. This can only be done by colonisation, and German colonisation in particular seems most suitable. We have prepared all the necessary notices, and intend now to begin seriously."
"Only one question," said Gustave, interrupting the dry business-like narration. "Have you any personal knowledge of your possessions?"
"Why, I should not undertake such an extensive business without full information. Naturally I know all about it."
"So do I," said Gustave laconically.
Sandow started and drew back a step.
"You! How? When? Is it possible?"
"Certainly, and in the most simple manner. Mr. Jenkins, whom I looked up in New York at your express wish, explained to me when the conversation fell on this subject, that you reckoned greatly on me, or rather on my pen. I therefore held it necessary to make myself thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair. That was really the cause of my late arrival, and of my 'pleasure tour,' as you called it. Before all, I wished to know where my country people were to be sent."
Sandow knitted his brows gloomily.
"All this trouble was quite superfluous. We are not in the habit of going to work in such a circumstantial manner. But what seems to me very remarkable is, that you should have been here a whole week without giving me the slightest hint of your journey. But never mind. We certainly reckon much on you and your literary connections. Our agents will do their best, but that is not enough. People have become very suspicious about agents, and the outlay has been too great to let us run any risks. Our great wish is that one of the great influential German papers which stands above all suspicion of a puff, should open the subject in our interest. It is true that you are no longer on the staff of the K--sche Zeitung; but they regret having lost you, and would gladly receive your contributions from America. A series of articles written in your eloquent and brilliant style would secure our success, and if you use your other literary connections skilfully so as to make the thing widely known, there is no doubt that in a few years a great German emigration will take place."
Gustave had listened in silence without offering the least interruption; but now he raised his eyes and fixed them earnestly on his brother's face.
"You forget one trifle, which is that your territory is totally unfit for colonisation. The land lies as unfavourably as possible, the climate is in the highest degree unhealthy, indeed, in some seasons deadly. The soil is unproductive, and to the most gigantic efforts returns only the smallest results. All the aids of skilful cultivation are utterly wasted, and the few settlers who are scattered here and there are sunk in sickness and misery. They are exposed, utterly defenceless, to the rigour of the most cruel elements, and those who might follow them from Europe would share the same fate."
Sandow listened with ever-growing surprise, and at first words failed him, at last he exclaimed angrily--
"What absurd exaggerations! Who has put such ideas into your head, and how can an utter stranger judge of such circumstances? What can you know of it?"
"I have made the strictest inquiries on the spot. My information is authentic."
"Nonsense! And if it were what have I to do with it? Do you think that you, who have scarcely been a week in the counting-house, can give me instructions in the management of my speculations?"
"Certainly not! But when such a speculation costs the life and health of thousands we are accustomed to call it by a different name."
"By what name?" asked Sandow, threateningly, advancing close to his brother.
Gustave would not be intimidated, but replied firmly--
"Knavery!"
"Gustave!" cried Sandow furiously, "you dare"--
"Naturally that word applies only to Mr. Jenkins. The remarkable attention with which that honourable personage received me, the constant sounding of my praises, the popularity of my name, and the brilliant success of my pen, which were to work wonders here as they had done at home--all this roused my suspicions and induced me to undertake the journey. You don't know the place, Frank, or at all events have only glanced superficially at it. But now that I have opened your eyes you will seek for the proof of my assertions, and let the whole thing drop."
Sandow did not seem much disposed to profit by the means of escape which his brother offered to him.
"Who says I shall?" asked he harshly. "Do you think I can give up without an effort the hundreds of thousands already invested there, merely because you have some sentimental objections to urge. The land is as good or as bad as in many other districts, and the immigrants have to struggle with climate and soil everywhere. These difficulties will be easily overcome by perseverance. It would not be the first German colony which had flourished under most unfavourable circumstances."
"After hundreds and thousands had been ruined! That is enriching foreign soil with German blood at too great a cost."
Sandow bit his lips; he evidently controlled himself with difficulty, and his voice was hoarse and stifled as he replied.
"What business had you to go there on your own account? Such exaggerated conscientiousness is here quite misplaced, and also quite useless. And if I did not accept Jenkins' offer there are plenty of others who would; and I must acknowledge that he applied to me first."
"First to you--a German--that was certainly a sign of remarkable respect from an American."
It was singular that the same man who a quarter of an hour before, had shown himself so anxious to conceal the choice of his heart from his austere brother, since it might displease him, now boldly defied him, under circumstances in which he could not be so profoundly interested. Sandow, though ignorant of his conversation with Jessie, was astonished to the highest degree at this conduct.
"You seem to be now playing the part of moral hero," said he with bitter sarcasm; "that does not suit very well with the extremely material motives which brought you here. You should have first made things clear to yourself. If you want a share in my house you must set its interest before everything, and in that interest I require you to write this article, and take care that it appears in a suitable place. Do you hear, Gustave? Under any circumstances you will do that!"
"To bring my countrymen here to rot in that swamp of fever and misery! No."
"Consider the subject well before you give such a decided refusal," warned Sandow with an icy calm, under which lay a half-concealed threat. "It is the first demand I make on you; if you fail me now, any future accommodation is impossible. It is quite in my power to draw back from the proposed arrangement; think of that!"
"Frank, you would not force me"--
"I force you to nothing; I only explain to you that we part if you persist in your refusal. If you are prepared for the consequences, well and good. I hold to my conditions."
He bent over his writing table, and took from it some papers which he placed in his pocket-book. Gustave stood silently by, his eyes fixed on the floor, a dark cloud on his brow.
"Just at the moment when Frida is on her way here," murmured he. "Impossible. I cannot sacrifice that."
"Well?" asked Sandow, turning to him.
"Give me time for consideration. The thing has come so suddenly, so unexpectedly. I will think it over."
The elder brother was quite contented with this partial submission; he had certainly not doubted that his threat would produce its effect.
"Good! a week sooner or later does not matter. I hope you will have sense to see that one must act according to circumstances. But come now, it is high time that we were at the office. And once more, Gustave, give yourself up to my guidance for the future, and undertake no more extravagances like this journey. You see, it only gives rise to differences between us, and increases the difficulties of your position."
"Decidedly," said Gustave, half aloud, while he prepared to follow his brother. "My position is tolerably difficult, worse than I had anticipated."
It was afternoon of the same day, and Jessie awaited with some anxiety and a great deal of curiosity the arrival of the young visitor. Gustave had told her in the morning that he should try to leave business earlier than usual, in order to meet Miss Palm at the station, and bring her to the house before his brother came home. At the appointed hour, then, he entered the drawing-room, leading a young girl.
"Miss Frida Palm," said he, introducing her. "My protégée, from this moment our protégée, since you are so good as to afford her an asylum in your house."
Jessie felt painfully impressed by this mode of introduction. So he did not even venture to introduce the girl to her as his betrothed. "Protégée," that was a word open to so many interpretations. He intended evidently to leave himself a means of retreat, should his brother show himself unyielding. Miss Clifford pitied with her whole heart the young creature who had given herself to such an egoist, and consequently her reception was warmer than she had at first intended.
"You are very welcome, Miss Palm," said she kindly; "I have heard all about you, and you may confide yourself to me without fear. I am not accustomed to neglect my protégées."
The "I" was slightly but distinctly accented, but he, at whom the remark was directed, remained, alas, totally unmoved. He seemed extremely pleased that his plan had succeeded, and the young stranger replied in a low, rather trembling voice--
"You are very kind, Miss Clifford, and I only hope that I may deserve your goodness."
Jessie placed her visitor beside her, and while the usual remarks on the weather, her journey, and arrival were made, she took the opportunity of examining her more closely. She was certainly a very young girl, almost a child, who had evidently scarcely reached her sixteenth year, but the delicate childish features bore an expression of seriousness and decision, astonishing at such an age. The large, dark eyes generally rested on the ground, but when they were raised for a moment, they gave a glance full of shyness and restraint which suited ill with the energetic features. The dark hair was simply drawn back from her face, and the deep mourning dress made the young stranger appear even paler than she naturally was.
"You are an orphan?" asked Jessie, with a glance at the dress.
"I lost my mother six months ago," was the short, touching answer.
That touched a kindred string in Jessie's bosom. She still mourned too for her beloved parents, and by the recollection came an expression of pain in her face.
"In that our fates are alike. I am an orphan too, and it is only a year since my father was torn from me. Yours is, no doubt, much longer dead."
The girl's lips trembled, and she replied almost inaudibly--
"In my childhood. I scarcely knew him."
"Poor child," said Jessie, with overflowing sympathy. "It must indeed be sad to stand so alone and desolate in the world."
"Oh! I am not desolate. I have found a protector, the noblest and best of men!"
In these words lay a truly affecting devotion, and the look which at the same moment was cast upon Gustave, betrayed an almost enthusiastic gratitude; the latter, however, received it all with enraging indifference, with the air of a sultan, as Jessie angrily considered. He appeared to look upon it as a richly deserved compliment, and replied in his usual jesting manner--
"You see, Miss Clifford, what my reputation with Frida is. I should be happy if you would come round to this opinion too, which, alas, I dare not hope."
Jessie ignored this remark. To her the manner in which he received the devotion of his future wife, and treated it as a subject for jesting was quite revolting, and she returned to Miss Palm.
"At present I must welcome you alone. You do not yet know my guardian, but in a short time you will meet him, and I hope with all my heart that you will succeed in gaining his sympathy."
Frida made no reply; she looked in the same timid manner at the speaker, and then dumbly at the ground. Jessie was rather surprised at this strange reception of her kindly meant words, but Gustave joined in the conversation, with the remark--
"At first you must have great consideration for Frida. It will be difficult for her to accustom herself to her new surroundings, and the part which she is forced to play in the house oppresses and terrifies her."
"Forced at your desire!" Jessie could not refrain from adding.
"Yes, that cannot now be altered. At all events she knows the conditions, and also that there is no other way of reaching our end. Frida, you confide entirely in me, don't you?"
Instead of answering, Frida stretched her hand towards him, with an expression which would have excused any lover for pressing the little hand to his lips. But this one calmly held it in his own, nodded protectingly, and said--
"I was sure of it."
"I will do all in my power to relieve what is painful in your position," said Jessie, reassuringly. "And now may I keep you with me?"
"We had better wait till to-morrow," said Gustave. "It would very much surprise my brother to find a complete stranger, of whose arrival he had not even been warned, established as a member of his household. That might at once arouse his suspicions. It would be better for Frida to return to the hotel where I stopped with her and left her things. In the course of the evening some opportunity of speaking of her is sure to arise, and then the removal can be effected without any trouble."
Jessie was annoyed at the suggestion, in proportion as she recognized its justice.
"You are incredibly prudent, Mr. Sandow! I really admire all these precautions, and this clever calculation of all possible emergencies."
Gustave bowed as if he had really received a compliment.
"Yes, yes, Frida," said he, in reply to the look of surprise with which the girl listened to this perpetual bickering. "Miss Clifford and I have an excessive mutual admiration. You see already, what great respect we show each other. But now it is time to start, or my brother will surprise us here."
Frida rose obediently. Jessie felt a deep sympathy with the poor girl who resigned herself so completely to the selfish plans of her lover, and bade her a hearty farewell.
Gustave accompanied Miss Palm to the carriage, which waited to take her back to the hotel; but just as they were descending the steps a second carriage drove up, and Sandow, whose office hours were now over, stepped out.
"My brother," said Gustave in a low voice.
Miss Palm must have stood greatly in awe of this terrible brother, for she suddenly turned deadly pale, and made an involuntary movement as if to fly, while the arm which rested in her companion's trembled violently.
"Frida!" said the latter, in an earnest, reproachful tone.
Frida struggled for composure, but her timidity this time was not the cause of her agitation. It was not the look of a startled dove which met the new arrival, but one in which lay gloomy, almost wild resistance, and the energetic side of her nature was shown so distinctly in her features that it seemed as if she were rather beginning a struggle with a dreaded enemy than trying to conciliate him.
Sandow had meanwhile entered, and met the pair face to face in the vestibule. He bowed slightly, but seemed surprised to see his brother accompanied by a perfect stranger.
Frida returned the greeting, but instead of stopping hastened anxiously forwards, and thus prevented the possibility of an introduction.
Gustave saw that it would be useless to try to effect it, so placed her in the carriage, closed the door, and directed the coachman to the hotel.
"Who is that girl?" asked Sandow, who had waited for his brother.
"A certain Miss Palm," said he lightly, "an acquaintance of Miss Clifford's."
"And to whom you act as cavalier."
"Not at all; my service is paid to Miss Clifford. At her wish, I fetched the young lady, in whom she is much interested, from the station, and brought her here. You know I left the office earlier than usual."
"Ah, indeed! Are you already on such good terms with Jessie that she entrusts you with such commissions?" said Sandow, much gratified to find his brother had made such decided progress, while they re-ascended the stairs and walked along the corridor together.
As they entered the drawing-room, Gustave took the thing promptly in hand.
"My brother has already seen your protégée, Miss Clifford," he began. "We met him in the hall."
"Who is this new acquaintance, Jessie?" asked Sandow, with an interest not usual to him. "I have heard nothing about her."
Jessie felt now, when the moment for the first equivocation had arrived, the whole weight of the responsibility she had undertaken; however, she had gone too far to be able to draw back. She returned hesitatingly,
"She is a young German, who has been strongly recommended to me from New York. She has come here to look for a situation as companion, and I thought--I wished"--
"Yes, you have gone pretty far," interrupted Gustave. "This Miss Palm seems to have taken your sympathies by storm; just think, Frank, Miss Clifford has offered her her own house, and seriously intends to give her to us for a companion."
Jessie cast an indignant glance at him, but was obliged to accept the proffered help.
"I have certainly invited Miss Palm for a few weeks," she said. "At least, if you have no objection, Uncle Sandow."
"I," said the latter absently, while his eyes already sought the evening papers, which lay on the table on the garden terrace. "You know, I never interfere in your domestic concerns. No doubt you would like a companion for a time, and if this young girl has been well recommended, pray arrange the affair as you like."
With this he stepped on to the terrace and seized the newspaper.
"I saw that I must come to your help, Miss Clifford," said Gustave aside to Jessie. "You are evidently very inexperienced in deception."
"You seem to think it a reproach," said Jessie, in a voice equally low, but trembling with anger. "Certainly I have not yet brought the art to such perfection as you have."
"Oh! that will come in time," said Gustave encouragingly. "When you are in difficulties that way, only turn to me. I am quite at home there."
"Gustave, have you read the evening papers yet?" came from Sandow on the terrace. "The German Exchange is very lively; prices are rising considerably. Here is your own journal; you will find a notice of it."
"Ah! prices are rising? really?" asked Gustave, stepping on to the terrace and taking the German paper which his brother offered him.
Sandow immediately buried himself in another sheet, and so did not see the air of sovereign contempt with which Gustave turned over the page containing the money article, and bestowed his whole attention upon the leading article, which was upon the political situation.
Jessie followed him with her eyes, and, as she beheld him bending so eagerly over what she supposed to be the money article, she curled her lip contemptuously, and thought--
"That poor, poor child! What will be her lot at the side of such an egoist?"