CHAPTER XIII.
THE MOTHER CONFESSOR.
So the day passed in preparation for Sister Benigna's funeral, as well as for the congregation festival.
Mr. Spener had given out yesterday that the workers in the factory should have a half holiday, and, in conformity to his orders, at twelve o'clock Loretz dismissed the weavers for the day. The various performers met in the hall and rehearsed their several parts, and the programme, it was decided, should be carried out precisely as Sister Benigna had designed.
Leonhard looked on and listened, wondering. Mrs. Loretz, who had only to sing in the choruses, had a little time on her hands during the day, and was glad that the young man was there to be talked to. True, he was busily at work over his drawing, which he wished to have ready to show Mr. Spener in the morning, but he was glad to listen, and the talk was in itself not uninteresting. Dame Anna had a great deal to say about Sister Benigna—not much to tell, really: the facts of her life as they were known to Mrs. Loretz were few. Benigna had come six years ago to Spenersberg, and had been an active member of the church there since that day. What everybody said was true: she had been the Genius of Music there, and in the true Moravian spirit had rallied every musical thought and all musical skill to the standard of religion. At first there had been a good deal of talk about founding a Sisters' House, but that had been given up: it was thought that the ends to be accomplished by it could be obtained at less cost and with less labor. She had lived in their house since the day she came: she was like a daughter to them, and a sister and more to Elise.
Then by and by the communicativeness of the good woman, as well as her confidence in Leonhard, increasing with her speech, she began to talk about Mr. Spener, and to hint his "intentions;" and she ended by telling this stranger what was not known outside her own family except to the minister. And when she had explained all it became clear to her that she must justify the method of proceeding in matrimonial affairs which had given to herself a good husband, and had been the means of establishing many happy households which she could name.
The only trouble that could possibly arise from the turn affairs had taken was a trouble that did look rather threatening, Leonhard thought. Spener had consented to abide by the decision of the lot, but now—would he?
After she had told all this, Mrs. Loretz asked Leonhard what he thought about it. He said he thought it was a hard case: he could feel for Mr. Spener. He was afraid that under the circumstances he should not behave well.
The good woman nodded her head as if she quite understood the force of his remarks, but, though it seemed hard, wasn't it better to be disappointed before marriage than after? Undoubtedly, he answered, yet he should prefer to feel that in an affair like that he could make his own choice, with consent of the lady.
Mrs. Loretz thought to herself he spoke as if he had already chosen for himself, and knew what he was talking about; and the cheerful fancies which she had entertained last night with regard to the beneficent care of Providence in sending Leonhard to Spenersberg disappeared like a wreath of mist. She must now mourn the loss of Sister Benigna more heavily than before, since she found herself without support on the highway of sorrow.
Had an unhappy marriage never come within her knowledge, Leonhard asked, which the lot had seemed to sanction?
She had been thinking of that, Mistress Anna acknowledged. There had, certainly—she could not deny it. But it was where the parties had not seriously tried to make the best of everything.
Was it necessary, then, he asked—even when the lot decided favorably—that people should put up with each other, and find it not easy to keep back sharp words which would edge their way out into hearing in spite of all efforts to keep them back? Must people providentially yoked together find themselves called upon, just like others, to make sacrifices of temper and taste and opinion all through life?
Wasn't that going on everywhere? she asked. Did he know of any people anywhere who agreed so well about everything that there was never a chance of dispute? And where was there such an abundance of everything that there was no occasion for self-sacrifice?
Leonhard laughed at these questions, and Mistress Anna looked wise, but she did not laugh. Leonhard might not be the providential substitute for a lover providentially removed, but at least he was a pleasant companion for a troubled hour. He had thought so much on this subject, possibly he had some experimental knowledge. Had he a wife?—Not yet, he said. But he would have.—Oh, of course: what would a man do in this world without a wife? Perhaps it would not trouble him to think of the one he would like to marry if he might.—No, not in the least.—And he would be satisfied to decide for himself, and not ask any counsel?—Was he not the one who must live with the lady? and was it likely that anybody would know as well as himself what he wanted?—Only, she suggested, how could he feel certain that he would have what he wanted, after all?—What! hadn't a man eyes?—That can be trusted, my dear?—If he can't trust his own, will he trust another man's?—But can he feel sure that what he wants would be best for him?—Is the best he can imagine any too good for a man, if he can get it?
But she has been thinking, How happened it that father should have found his very name in the birthday book? She has been thinking of it nearly all the morning. When she first set eyes on him—did he know?—she felt sure that he belonged to them.
Leonhard did not know about the name. He felt very grateful to her for her kindness. He hoped the book had shown him the writing of his ancestor, but he did not know. His parents died when he was a little boy, and if he had any relatives alive, they were unknown to him. He should be glad to believe that the Herrnhuter was his grandfather or great-grandfather. But they must not ask him to run the risk of losing his chance if there should be a young lady whom he might wish to marry: he could not trust any voice in such a matter except hers.
"Loretz and I have had our share of trials," she answered solemnly. "It has helped us to bear them, I am sure, dear youth, to think that God had brought us together and united us, for the lot decided how it should be. There have been times when I knew not how I could have endured what was put upon me but for remembering—remembering that in the counsels of a better world our marriage was decreed. See, Sister Benigna brought the ink home with her this noon! Now write your name in Frederick's book, and think whether it would not be best to stay with us."
Leonhard appeared to be intent on his drawings: he bent over his work, but in truth his eyes could not see quite distinctly the lines which he drew. "I will not forget the book," he said: "as to staying in Spenersberg, I am only a probationer wherever I am."
"And who knows how happy you might be among us!" said Dame Anna, who was quite clear now on a point somewhat cloudy before. The stranger had brought with him some secret sorrow and trouble, poor dear!