An Old Story of My Farming Days Vol. 1 (of 3). / (Ut Mine Stromtid)

by Fritz Reuter

CHAPTER XI.

The three years since his father's death which Alick had spent with his regiment, and which he had filled with agricultural study, heroic deeds and a love-affair, had been equally well employed at Pümpelhagen, for these three occupations had taken as prominent a part in the life of our old friends there as they had in his. Of the farming there is no need to speak; but the heroic deeds and the love-affairs might never have become known, had it not been for Fred Triddelfitz's conduct on one of the feast-days of the church. The friendship between him and Mary Möller had changed from that of a mother and son to that of a sister and brother; but on her side there was a very tender affection, which she showed in the way she kept him supplied with ham and sausages, indeed Mary was sometimes guilty of building up insecure castles in the air about priests and rings, bridal-wreaths, farms and self-government, so that the change in her sentiments was not a little alarming. Then Fred gradually took fright lest Hawermann should discover his secret luncheons, &c., and that his aunt, and mother, and father would, when they heard of what he had been doing, lecture him by the hour, tell him how silly he was, and--in short make it very disagreeable for him, Taking his love-affairs all together it must be confessed that though he did not dislike a talk with the twins, or--if his aunt were well out of the way--with Louisa Hawermann, his greatest happiness was caused by his friendship with Mary Möller. The heroic deeds done at Pümpelhagen during these three years were all performed within his own sphere of action. At first he had only shown his courage and enterprise secretly to the farm-lads, for if Hawermann had discovered what he was about, the great glory his cane had won him on the farmboys' shoulders would have been quickly dissipated. As time went on he grew bolder from not being found out, and on Palm Sunday morning he ventured, in an evil hour for himself, to treat one of the grooms in the same way, but the man was impertinent enough to forget the respect due to him, and seized him by the collar, and beat him so hard across the back and shoulders with his own cane, that Mary Möller had to spend the greater part of the afternoon in applying damp towels to his shoulders they--smarted so terribly. The worst of it all was that every time Mary Möller laid a cool piece of linen on his back, she made his conscience prick him by recapitulating all the kindnesses she had shown him, and in spite of the pain and discomfort from which he was suffering, asked him point blank what his intentions were, taking care to assure him at the same time, that she believed in his love, and that he would be true to her. He did not like that sort of talk at all, for he himself believed far more strongly in his love for good eating than in his love for her, and as for his intentions, he would rather not tell what they were. He stammered a few words of no particular meaning, and the better his back felt, the less inclined he was to tie himself down in any way; he tried to turn the conversation to another subject, but she would not allow that to be done, and laid the damp linen on his back less gently than at first. "Triddelfitz," she said at last when she found that she could get no satisfactory answer from him, "what am I to think of you?" And then, having finished arranging the linen on his back, she came round in front of him, and putting her arms akimbo, stared him full in the face. He was rather afraid of what might follow, and said deprecatingly: "What do you mean, Polly?"--"What do I mean? Shall I have to tell you more distinctly?" she cried, her eyes losing their former sweet and loving expression, "am I always to be led by the nose?" So saying she came dose up to him, and slapped him right between the shoulders on the top of the bandages.--"Ugh!--Hang it all!" he shrieked. "That did hurt."--"Ah, that hurt you, did it?" she asked. "And do you think that it doesn't hurt me to see the man to whom I have shown so much kindness treating me so deceitfully?"--"Oh, Polly! What do you mean?"--"What do I mean? This is what I mean!"--thud, came her hand down on his back.--"Confound it! It's burning like fire."--"I'm glad to hear it. It's only what you deserve for making a poor girl believe all your fine speeches and promises."--"Bless me, Polly, I'm only nineteen!"--"What has that got to do with it?"--"And then I'd like to take a situation as bailiff somewhere first, and then----" --"Well, and then what?"--thud, came another slap on the back.--"For Heaven's sake, mind what you are about! You're hurting me frightfully."--"Mind what you are about with me. Well, and then?"--"And then I shall be ready to take a farm, and that will be in about ten years time, I suppose."--"Well, and then?" she asked with a determination that was dreadful to him.--"Yes--and then," Fred stammered, with a nervous dread of the consequence of what he was going to say, "you will be too old."--His Polly Möller stood for a moment as though rooted to the spot, her eyes blazing with anger, then, bending forward, she struck him on the mouth with the wet bandages she had in her hand, and as she did so, the water in the linen fell upon his neck and ears in spray: "Too old? You fool! Too old, did you say?" then snatching up the basin of water she dashed it over his head and shoulders, and ran out of the room. While Fred stood there puffing and blowing, she pushed the door a little open again, and cried: "You'd better never show your face in my kitchen again."

That was the end of this love-affair, at least for the present, and it was also the end of the dainty little luncheons eaten in secrecy. Fred Triddelfitz stood motionless where Mary Möller had left him, and thought over the change in his circumstances, and of how essentially this love-affair of his had differed from all his preconceptions and from all the novels he had read, and then he made use in his ill-humour of the same expression that he had used when, soon after his arrival at Pümpelhagen, he had been sent road-mending on a rainy day in November: "I never thought it would be as bad as this!--What a blessing," he added, "that the governor is out, otherwise he'd have been certain to have heard the row she made."

Hawermann and Frank had gone to church at Gürlitz that morning. The farmer walked on silently, his heart full of love and gratitude to God for all His fatherly goodness to him and to his child who was to be confirmed on that Palm Sunday morning. As he went down the dry foot-path--there had been a slight frost during the night--his eyes rested on the bright scene before him, the snow was still lying in white patches beside the ditches, and under the shade of the dark pines, while the rye-fields with their tender green carpet on which the sun poured down its golden light, announced that Easter was nigh, and quietly awaited the promised resurrection. The smoke rising from the chimneys of the small villages round about was gilded by the sun's rays, showing how little the aspect of nature is affected by the cares and troubles of man, and from the church-towers on every hand was to be heard a solemn peal ringing over woods and meadows.--"Ah, if she had only lived to see this day!" said the old man aloud, forgetting that he was not alone.--"Who?" asked Frank with some hesitation, and fearing lest he might be thought intrusive.--"My poor wife, the mother of my dear child," the old man answered softly, as he turned his honest face and looked kindly at the youth at his side, as much as to say: My face and my heart tell the same tale, as you would know if you could only read my thoughts.--"Yes," he went on, "my good wife. But what am I saying? She sees our child better than I can, she does more for her than I can, and her thoughts are higher than the blue heavens, and her joy purer than the golden sunlight."--Frank walked on in silence not wishing to disturb the bailiff; he had never before felt such a deep reverence for his dear old friend, and now as he looked at him, and saw his white hair lying on his broad forehead as white and pure as those patches of snow on the ground, and read in his expression a full assurance of hope, and a calm faith in the resurrection, such as was also to be seen in the face of nature, for while his countenance was irradiated with the sunshine of love, the earth was bathed in that of the golden sun. At last he could resist the impulse no longer, and seized the old man's hand, saying: "Hawermann, dear Hawermann, you must have had a great deal of sorrow during your life."--"Not more," was the answer, "than other people have, but enough for me to remember as long as I live."--"Will you tell me about it? It is not curiosity that makes me ask."--"Why not?" he said, and then he told him his whole story, but without once mentioning Pomuchelskopp's name; "and," he said in conclusion, "as my child was once my only comfort, she is now my only joy."

While thus talking they reached the parsonage. Little Mrs. Behrens had grown rather older and rounder in the last few years, and did not trot about the house quite so restlessly as she used to do. To-day she sat perfectly still, leaving her duster to lie idly in its drawer, where it found life as dull as a pug-dog in a toy kennel; for the solemnity of the act to be performed that day in church forbade her attending to matters belonging only to the work-a-day world, above which she was raised for the time being by reason of her position of clergyman's wife, which made her the "nearest" to those taking part in the ceremony. Still, try as she might she could not keep quite motionless, and though she did not bustle about from place to place as usual, she could not resist going to see how her pastor was getting on, and then tying his bands for him and giving him a glass of wine; after that she went in search of Louisa, straightened her ruffles and whispered words of love and encouragement in her ear, and now that young Joseph, Mrs. Nüssler, the little twins and Bräsig had come, she was just about to resume her customary ways of going on when the church-bell rang out its last peal. The twins were also to be confirmed, and when Mrs. Behrens saw the three pretty children--Lina and Mina on either side of Louisa, who was a head taller than her little cousins--walking up the church-yard path, her eyes filled with tears: "Hawermann," she said, "our child has no gold chains and brooches such as it is now the foolish fashion for girls to wear at their confirmation; and, dear Hawermann, that black silk is thirty years old, I wore it last on the first Sunday I went to church after my marriage, and a happy heart beat within it I can assure you, for it was full of love to my pastor--I never wore it afterwards for it soon grew too tight for me, I was always rather stout, and so you see it is as good as new, and no one would ever find out that a bit had been added to the bottom of the skirt to lengthen it. And, Hawermann, I have put the money you gave me to buy a new dress into Louisa's purse. You are not angry with me, I hope? I wanted so much to see my gown in all its old glory again."--When they got to the church-door Bräsig pulled Hawermann back by the coat, and then said, looking at him with great emotion the while: "A confirmation such as this is a remarkable thing, a very remarkable thing, Charles. When I saw the three little girls going on before us I suddenly remembered my own confirmation which put an end to that dreadful work of herding sheep which I hated so at my father's, and permitted me to do some real farming. Just as these three little girls are going to church, I went with my companions, Charles Brandt and Christian Guhl, only that we did not wear black silk gowns; no, Christian had on a green coat, Charles, a brown one, and mine was grey; and instead of the nosegay of flowers that the little girls are carrying in their hands, we had each a small green sprig in our button-holes, and then we did not walk in a row like these children, but followed each other in single file like geese on their way to the pond.--Ah yes, it was just like this."

When the congregation had sung a hymn, Mr. Behrens preached his sermon. He had grown much older looking, but his voice was strong, his thoughts were well and clearly expressed, and his words were uttered with a gentle dignity. Age is less injurious to a clergyman's influence than to that of any one else, if only the man is worthy of his office. His people not only hear his words but look back upon the course of his long, true and honourable life and see in him a living example of goodness, as well as a mere preacher of it.--And that was the case with parson Behrens.

Now was the time for the examination, and the young girls took off their shawls. Louisa clasped her arms round her father and foster-mother with tears in her eyes; and Mrs. Nüssler kissed her twin-daughters lovingly; young Joseph wanted to say something, but said nothing after all, and then the three children left the parsonage pew and took their places at the altar.--"I wonder," said Bräsig to Frank, who was standing beside him, "how the little round-heads will get through their examination, I'm afraid that my god-daughter Mina will break down completely." And then he blew his nose and wiped his eyes.

Frank made him no answer, he had lost sight of all but one face, and that face which he knew so well had a look on it to-day that he had never seen before; he saw but one form, usually so graceful and active, but now slightly bent with a feeling of solemnity and awe, and the hands which had always given him such eager welcome were now raised in devotion, and it seemed to him as if God Himself were standing by the bending figure in the simple black dress, within which Mrs. Behrens' heart had once beat so happily, and showed him the purity of the heart that was now within it and told him to see that his heart was fit to take its place by hers. He felt as if he had been accustomed to see a beautiful landscape brilliant with sunshine and had had no thought awakened by its beauty but one of careless enjoyment, but now he felt as if he had returned to the same place after a long absence, and saw it bathed in the calm, pure light of the moon, and lo, all was changed. It seemed to him as though there were a weight upon his heart, and he were begging for mercy with supplicating hands raised to heaven, and he was filled with a deep compassion for himself, for he felt what a poor, miserable gift his heart would be were he to presume to offer it to such loveliness. And this deep compassion for oneself, this secret craving for a better heart, which comes over us when our eyes are opened to see that moonlight loveliness, we children of men call "love."

Bräsig stood beside him and every now and then whispered a few words to him which he did not hear, and which, if he had heard, he would have thought great nonsense. Perhaps he might even have been angry if he had listened to what was said to him, and yet the old bailiff only spoke as he felt, for he had lost the rose coloured spectacles of youth, and saw everything through a greyer medium. Bräsig underwent a frightful martyrdom while the examination was going on; he was so terrified lest his god-daughter Mina should break down, and every time she answered a question rightly he gave vent to such a tempestuous sigh, that if Mr. Behrens had been a clergyman of the new school, he would have imagined that he had brought some miserable sinner to repent in dust and ashes.--"God be praised and thanked!" murmured the sinner, "Mina knows her catechism." Then going up to Frank: "It's coming now, only listen." And getting round to the other side of Hawermann: "Do listen, Charles. Mina will have it. Mina will have to answer the great water question. I knew it quite well, but Christian Guhl couldn't answer it, so I was made to say it instead. I've forgotten all but the beginning now: 'For water truly accomplishes nothing, but only the spirit of God.'"--While Mina gave the answer without hesitation the old man repeated it after her word for word. The churchwarden now came up with the collecting-bag, and Bräsig dropped half-a-crown into it with a bang, as though he expected his donation to buy him freedom from the weight of his anxiety. He then turned round, and seizing Mrs. Nüssler by the hand, exclaimed almost aloud: "Did you hear our little roundheads?" after which he blew his nose so loudly that Mrs. Nüssler had to remonstrate with him for disturbing the congregation.

If anyone had examined the tie that bound Bräsig to little Mina, a tie which was founded on the memory of his old affection for her mother, it would have been found to be quite as strong, although much calmer than that by which Frank wished to bind Louisa to himself.--Love is manifold, and reveals itself in the most unexpected forms. It flies up to heaven on rosy pinions, and walks the earth clumsily in wooden shoes; it speaks with "tongues" as the apostles did on that first Whitsunday-morning, and again it sits by our side like an innocent child; it gives the loved one diamonds and coronets, or acts like old bailiff Schecker, who paid his court to my aunt Schäning by presenting her with a fat capon.

When the confirmation ceremony was over and the Holy Communion had been for the first time received by the young people, Mr. Behrens retired to the vestry, and Samuel Pomuchelskopp, whose son Tony was one of those confirmed on that day, stalked past the clergyman's pew, in his best blue coat, and followed him there. Instead of going into the room he merely put his head in at the door--"To show everyone what a noodle he is," whispered Bräsig to Hawermann--and in a loud voice, as if he had been at market instead of in church, invited the parson to come up to the manor-house and have some broth, roast-beef and a bottle of red wine with him.--"That everyone may hear what a confounded Jesuit he is," whispered Bräsig.--The clergyman regretted that he could not accept the invitation, as he was not only rather tired, but also expected some friends to dinner at the parsonage. As Pomuchelskopp went away he glanced over his shoulder at the occupants of the parsonage pew, and was about to bow with such condescension that it would have been a pleasure to look at him, when he caught sight of the quizzical expression of Bräsig's face. Our old friend was what Mrs. Behrens, if she had seen him at that moment, would have called too bad a Christian to keep his evil thoughts from showing themselves in his face even when he was in God's own house.--How different he looked a few minutes later when the three young girls came up to receive his kiss and blessing after they had had those of their parents and foster-parents. He raised his eyebrows as high as he could, and frowned solemnly, so as to make himself look as paternal as possible. And he succeeded very well as far as Louisa and Lina were concerned, but when his little Mina came to him, he felt as if he himself were a child again, and caught her in his arms, saying so that she only could hear: "Never mind, Mina, never mind. I'll give you something nice." And because he could think of nothing suitable on the spur of the moment, and chanced to have his handkerchief in his hand, he added: "I'll give you a dozen pocket-handkerchiefs--nice bright ones too." For he wanted to do the thing well when he was about it.

All of the company had now offered their good wishes and had kissed the children, but two of their number had come off badly in this respect. Young Joseph only got half a kiss, and Frank got none at all. As far as young Joseph was concerned it was his own fault, for he had squeezed himself into a corner of the seat in such a way that the girls could only get at the small right side of his mouth, while the left, and larger half was completely hidden by the wood-work of the pew. And Frank--he had not yet come down to earth, he was raised in thought far above all sublunary things, and it was not till they had reached the church-door that he took Louisa's hand in his and said something to her, but what it was he could not have told five minutes later.--He was in love. That beautiful face with its look of rapt devotion had conquered him--and for ever.

It is possible that some punctilious matron, or perhaps some very strict maiden lady--whether old or merely come to years of discretion--may be displeasured with this part of my story, and ask me: "Why did the young man not look out for a suitable wife elsewhere if he must needs do such a worldly thing as fall in love?"--To which I can only reply: "Honoured Madam, or most respected Miss so and so, the young man was so new to those little affairs, of which you, from your earlier experience, have such a thorough comprehension, that he did not regard falling in love as at all a worldly action. And when and where ought a young man to fall in love? Is such a thing only allowable at a garden party in summer, or during the cotillon at a ball in winter? If there are many roads leading to Rome there are far more which lead to marriage, and he who can date the beginning of his journey along one of these roads from a meeting in church, is much wiser than he who sets out from a ball-room. In the first instance the altar is near at hand, and in the second there is often a long and miry lane to be traversed before the lovers can reach the altar, so that thin shoes and boots are sometimes worn and travel-stained when they enter the holy estate of matrimony. Do you not agree with me, honoured Madam. Am I not right, most respected Miss so and so?"

A simple repast was set out in the parsonage. Bräsig was in high spirits and beamed upon every one like sunshine after rain. The old clergyman was also cheerful, for like Solomon he knew that there is a time for every purpose, "a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;" but still the remembrance of what had taken place that morning was strong upon them all, and neither Mrs. Behrens nor Mrs. Nüssler recovered the full use of their tongues until they were sitting over the coffee-table. Immediately after dinner the old clergyman went to lie down on the sofa in his study to rest after his exertions, and enjoy a quiet nap. Hawermann went out for a walk with his daughter and his two nieces, for he thought that the calm beauty of the spring-day would soothe the excitement in their young hearts, and Frank went with them, his heart full of the influence of the spring of love newly awakened within him. Joseph Nüssler found a corner which was almost as comfortable as his favourite seat at home, and Bräsig paced up and down the room with a long pipe in his mouth. Since he had had his pension he had entirely changed the character of his walk, and turned out his feet far more than of old, indeed it may be said that when his face was turned to the north his feet pointed due east and west. He did it to show that he was his own master, and to prove that long years of walking over ploughed fields had not destroyed his grace of movement, or prevented his appearing worthy of his new position, that of a gentleman at large. The two ladies seated themselves on the sofa above which the pictures were hung.

"Yes, dear Mrs. Nüssler," said Mrs. Behrens, "thank God, the children have done well so far. Louisa is now sixteen and a half, and your girls are six months older than she is. My pastor says, and I know that he is right, that they are well educated, and so if ever they have to work for themselves they are quite able to do so. They might get situations as governesses any day."--Bräsig came to a standstill, raised his eyebrows, and blew such a thick cloud of smoke towards the sofa that even young Joseph was amazed.--"Ah, yes," replied Mrs. Nüssler, "and the children have to thank you and Mr. Behrens for that," here she seized her friend's hand. "Brother Charles and I have often agreed that though we were quite able to provide them with their daily bread, to see that their dresses were neat and suitable, and to teach them to be honest and truthful, and everything that relates merely to domestic life, still we were not capable of teaching them such things as make human beings worthy of the name. Am I not right Joseph?"--A comfortable grunt of acquiescence came from behind the stove, it was a sound resembling that which a faithful old dog would utter when his back was stroked by a friendly hand.--"Did you hear, Mrs. Behrens? Joseph quite agrees with me."--"Don't say that please," remonstrated Mrs. Behrens, not wishing to be thanked, "I've done very little for your girls after all, it was different with Louisa of course, for I was the nearest to her. But--what I was going to say was this--we've never spoken of it before--do you intend one of your children, Mina perhaps, to go out as a governess?"--"What?" cried Mrs. Nüssler, staring at the clergyman's wife in as great astonishment as if she had just announced that Mina has serious intentions of having herself elected pope of Rome, but when Mrs. Behrens began to explain her meaning more clearly, Bräsig interrupted her by bursting into a hearty fit of laughter: "Ha, ha, ha! What a joke! What a joke! Did hear, young Joseph? Our little Mina a governess! ha, ha!"--Mrs. Behrens sat stiffly back in her corner like a doll that had had its ears bored, her rosy turned purple with anger, and her lilac cap-rib vibrated with every word as she said indignantly: "What are you laughing at, Bräsig? Are you laughing at me, pray? Are you laughing because I thought that Mina might become a governess? Perhaps, Mr. bailiff Bräsig," she continued drawing herself up proudly, "you are not aware that I was a governess once, and that teaching children is a very different thing from beating farm-lads?"--"Ah, but--don't be angry, Mrs. Behrens--ha, ha, ha!--our Mina a governess."--But Mrs. Behrens had lost her temper too completely to be able to remain silent, so she went on excitedly: "There is a great difference between educated and uneducated people; a person like you could never governess!"

As she uttered these words her parson, who been wakened by Bräsig's laughter, entered the room. He was struck by the comicality of the idea, and being too short-sighted to see his wife's angry face, laughing: "Ha, ha! Bräsig a governess!"--A great change came over Mrs. Behrens on her husband's entrance; although she had been boiling over with wrath the moment before, the mere fact of his presence seemed to cast oil on the troubled waters, and she grew calm and quiet. She was sometimes guilty of uttering a hasty word, or of reddening with anger when he was in the room, but she had never yet given way to a regular fit of passion in his presence, and so her honest round face, which only a moment ago was flushed with anger, now glowed with a deeper blush of shame at the thought that she, a clergyman's wife, had so far forgotten herself, and on such a day too. The feeling of shame drove away the last remnants of her anger, and when she heard her own words repeated, that Bräsig could never be a governess, she hid her face in her handkerchief and laughed heartily though silently.

Mrs. Nüssler had been sitting on thorns during the scene between Mrs. Behrens and Bräsig, and when the parson came in, she sprang to her feet, exclaiming: "Oh, reverend Sir, I am the innocent cause of the quarrel. Bräsig, have done with your stupid laughter. Bless me, if Mrs. Behrens thinks that my Mina ought to be a governess--I have no objection. If you and Mrs. Behrens really think it better for her, I will give my consent, for you've always given me good advice. Don't you agree with me, Joseph?"--Joseph came out from behind the stove as he answered: "Yes. It all depends upon circumstances; if she ought to go, let her go." As soon as he had finished speaking he left the room, most probably to consider the matter in solitude.--"What is the meaning of all this?" asked the clergyman, "are you in earnest, Regina?"--Mrs. Nüssler approached the little lady anxiously: "Never mind, Mrs. Behrens.--I hope you're ashamed of yourself, Bräsig?--Dear Mrs. Behrens, don't cry any more," and as she spoke she drew the handkerchief away from her friend's face gently, but on seeing the laughing face raised to hers she started back a step or two, exclaiming: "Why, what's all this!"--"Only a misunderstanding, neighbour," said the old gentleman smiling. "No one ever thought seriously that Mina ought to be a governess. No, our children shall never swell the number of poor unhappy girls who are knocked about from place to place in the world, and earn their bread as dependents. No, our children shall, please God, become good wives, and notable mistresses of households, and in course of time they may with our full consent become governesses--to their own children."--"Reverend Sir--dear Mr. Behrens," cried Mrs. Nüssler, looking as if she were relieved from a terrible dread, "God bless you for saying that. Our Mina shall not be a governess. Joseph--where are you, Joseph? Ah, he must have gone out to hide his grief. Yes, Mr. Behrens, she shall learn to be a good housekeeper. You shall see that I'll do my best to teach her thoroughly."--"Yes," cried Bräsig, "and she must be able to cook a good dinner."--"Of course, Bräsig. Ah, Mr. Behrens, I found all the governesses that I tried such a handful! And last week I went to call on the wife of the new deputy sheriff--she had once been a governess--and I found her a weakly sort of creature who moves about the house as listlessly as if she couldn't be troubled with anything, and then she's one of those sort of people who always wants what she can't get. She's a poor white-faced thing, and looks as if she thought herself a sweet holy martyr--interesting looking, she calls it."--"Bosh!" said Bräsig.--"And, Mrs. Behrens," continued Mrs. Nüssler, "she always has the eggs hard boiled, and the roasts burnt in her house. Good gracious! I'm not one of those who say that women ought not to be educated, and well educated too, so that they may be able to read the newspapers, and may know all about old Fritz and his people, and may even be able to tell in what countries the orange and quinine-trees are to be found; still, these things are only pleasant to know, they are not necessary; and, Mrs. Behrens, I always say that if any woman doesn't know that sort of thing she can always wait till she meets some one learned enough to give her the information she requires; but, Mrs. Behrens, knowing how meat ought to be roasted is a different thing altogether! There can be no question of waiting in such a case, for dinner comes at a regular hour, and, living in the country as I do, Mrs. Behrens, there is no one I can trust to look after these things, except a stupid servant who'd be sure to make some dreadful mistake if she were left to herself."--"You're quite right, neighbour," said the clergyman, "the girls must learn to be good housekeepers."--"That's what I say, reverend Sir, that's just what I say. Goodness gracious me! That poor little woman, the deputy sheriffs wife, knows nothing about house-keeping. Only fancy! She asked me how many pairs of shoes my children wore out in the year when they were seven years old; she asked me how we milked the pigs at Rexow, and she asked me what the chickens said. Ah, reverend Sir, Louisa must not be a governess either."--"No, we don't want her to be one, and as Hawermann thinks as we do on the subject, it is arranged that she should remain here and learn housekeeping. Regina is beginning to take things too easily, and," seating himself on the sofa beside his wife, and putting his arm round her waist, "she is growing too old to have so much on her hands, so she is glad to have a young girl to help her to manage the house, and besides that, she could not bear to part with Louisa."--"You would like it even less than I should, pastor. I'm beginning to feel myself quite shelved, I assure you, it's 'Louisa bring me this,' and 'Louisa get me that' from morning till night."--"Well, well, I don't deny it, I should miss the child terribly if she were to go away."

Hawermann now came back with the children and Frank. When they had nearly reached the door they saw young Joseph walking excitedly up and down the garden. As she approached him, he went up to his daughter Mina, and taking her in his arms, kissed her and said: "It isn't my fault, Mina," and when Hawermann asked him what was the matter, he merely answered: "Brother-in-law, what must be, must be." When the party was separating to go home, and Joseph was seated in the carriage, he felt as if he were driving a victim up to the sacrificial altar. Although his wife explained the whole matter thoroughly to him, and told him that Mina was not to be a governess, the conversation at the parsonage had made such an indelible impression on him, that he could never get over the idea that Mina had a sorrowful life before her. From this time forward he always made her sit beside him at dinner, and gave her all the little titbits in the dish before him, as if each meal were to be the last before her sorrows began.