CHAPTER XXIV. “THE HERR ROBERT”
I will not attempt to describe the welcome that met me on my return, nor the gratitude with which my mother overwhelmed my kind protector. The whole school, and no inconsiderable part of the village itself, had gone forth to meet us, and we were conducted back in a sort of triumph. Over and over again was I obliged to recount my story, of which the mystery still remained unexplained. Who and what was the strange recluse who so long had inhabited the castle of the Forlorn Glen, and who now stood before them, old and simply clad, but still bearing unmistakable marks of having been a person of some condition?
As Mr. Robert he desired to be known by me, and as such was he received by my mother. He declined the offer she freely made him of a room in her own small house, and hired a little lodging in the toll-house on the bridge, and which he said was convenient to the garden of the château, where he obtained the liberty of walking. If the interest which he manifested in me was at first a cause of anxiety to my mother, not knowing what it portended, nor how far it might contribute to withdraw my affection from herself, it was clear that she soon became satisfied with whatever explanation he afforded, and that those long conversations, frequently prolonged to a late hour of the night, which they held together, had the effect of reconciling her to his views and intentions.
Thus was a new individual introduced into the little circle of our family party, and each Sunday saw him seated at our dinner-table, of which his conversation formed the great charm. It was not alone that his mind was stored with varied information the most rare and curious, but his knowledge of the world itself and of mankind seemed more remarkable still; and frequently, after he had left us of an evening, have I overheard my mother express her wonder to Raper who and what he had been, and by what strange events he was reduced to his present condition. These remarks of hers at first showed me that whatever revelations he might have made in his long interviews with her, he had told little or nothing of his own story. Such was indeed the case, and I can remember well a little scene, in itself unimportant and of no consequence, which can both portray my mother's intense curiosity on this theme, and display some traits of him for whom it was excited.
It happened that at the period when her little quarterly pittance came due, my mother was confined to home by a slight feverish cold, and Herr Klann, the banker and moneychanger of the village, was condescending enough to come in person and hand her the amount. In spite of her narrow fortune, my mother had always been treated with a marked deference by the village, and Herr Klann demeaned himself on the occasion with every show of courtesy and politeness. He indeed did not scruple to display that he was the great depositary of riches for miles and miles around; that all the relations of trade and commerce, all the circumstances of family fortune,—the dowries of brides, the portions of younger sons,—were in his charge and keeping. He talked much of the responsibility of his station and its requirements, and, like many others, while encomiumizing his secrecy, he exhibited the very opposite quality. There was not a house in the village or its neighborhood of which he did not incidentally relate some story or incident. He became, in fact, candor itself in his confessions. It is but fair to own that my mother looked most becomingly in her half invalid costume, and that the little straw-wrapped flask of “Sieben-berger” with which she regaled him was excellent. Herr Klann was a man to acknowledge both such influences. He possessed the Hebrew weaknesses both as regards gold and beauty. He therefore became largely confidential,—taking a survey of the whole neighborhood, and revealing their circumstances with the minute anatomy that a surgeon might have employed in displaying their structure. My mother heard him with no peculiar interest till by accident he alluded to the “Herr Robert;” it was a mere reference to the toll-house where he lived, but the name at once awakened her attention.
“With him, I conclude,” said she, “your money dealings are few. He does not appear to be wealthy.”
“He is a mystery in every way, madam,” replied Klann, “his very cash does not come through a banker or an agent; he has no credit, no bills—nothing. He comes down to me at times, say once a month or so, to change a few gold pieces,—they are always 'Louis.' I remark, and sometimes of the time of the late reign. They are good money, and full weight invariably, that I must say.”
“And what may be your own opinion of all this?”
“I can form none,—positively none, madam. Of course I need not say that I regret the vulgar notion in the village that he is in communication with supernatural agencies; neither you nor I, madam, are likely to fall into this absurd mistake.”